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seeingivy · 2 months

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obsessions

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends (older brother) series

previous part linked here

sukuna always considered himself an entirely different entity, especially when he was comparing himself to you. labels were something he learned quick and fast – that he was gifted, that he was juvenile, that he was his mother’s angel boy, but he could never seem to do right by her, or anyone else for that matter, besides it.

he doesn’t understand it. sukuna wasn’t quite gifted, school just seemed to be something that functioned without requiring any effort from him. that the connections formed in his head, that he was athletic, that people just wanted to be around him.

that deep down, he wished he could have had the struggle, something that would help him relate to his peers – just so he could be a little bit more touchable. a little more human.

that sometimes without explaining, he would have this tensing energy in him, that always culminated in him pulling a girl’s hair or punching one of his classmates when they made him too angry. that sometimes it was the only way he could relieve that tension that had been building for days.

that he was an angel boy to his mother, who was too spineless to stand up for her sons, and instead left him to do it for the group of them. it didn’t matter if he was eleven, if he was cowering in fear or sixteen and grieving, because someone had to stand at the plate and he had to be the one to do it when no one else would.

that despite the selflessness it took, it made him angry. that deep down, as an eldest son, as an older sibling – he should have been overjoyed. he should have been happy that no one else did it for him, because it meant he was spared the pain.

he should have been glad he got to protect them. that at the end of the day, it was his job.

but no matter how hard he tried, it would still never be enough. the expectations were high and he would never be tall enough to reach them.

it’s why it sends him into a spiraling hole when he fails to deliver for you. quite possibly, the only person he’d want to fill that role for.

“sukuna?”

“hm, dollface?”

he watches as you pace around the room, clasping your necklace around your neck, and smiles at the light pink ribbon in your hair.

“were you able to wash my sweater? the pink one?” you ask.

sukuna bites hard into the softness of his cheek, the pit in his stomach rolling in waves.

the pink sweater, for valentines day.

he walks closer to you, as you plate the little heart shaped cookies and grab your bouquet of flowers as you look up at him, expectantly. there’s a certain franticness in your demeanor, like you’re ready to bolt out the door in his old college sweatshirt that you were wearing over your skirt without giving it a second thought.

there’s pink glitter smeared over your eyelids, a sweet flowery smell from your freshly sprayed perfume, and a white ribbon in your hair – you’re so perfect and it makes him feel like a failure.

“baby, i’m so sorry. i can go throw it for a wash right now.” he murmurs.

you wince.

“honey. i’m already running late.” you groan.

you shake your head, locking your phone as you place your cold hand on his cheek and press a kiss to his skin.

“no problem, s’my fault anyways. i’ll yank something from kugi’s closet and see you after bestie-tines, okay?”

sukuna gives you a halfhearted nod, something you don’t notice as you rush out to your little party, and he can’t help but feel his heart sink.

there’s only one reason that sukuna’s able to read you so well – so keen, so aware about how obsessive you can really be.

it’s because he’s the same way.

for you, the comments regarding your looks, the perceived slights of awkwardness you seem to experience, they send you tumbling. make you meticulously brush your hair multiple times, vigorously rub your skin till its nearly pink.

and for him. the small things he fails at, that he can never seem to do anything right – by his parents, his brother, his beloved girlfriend.

it nearly drives him crazy. and makes it unable for him to stop.

bestie-tines is a simple tradition that was established three years ago, on february 13th.

valentine’s day, originally, was always a day that you and yuuji reserved for one another. it started out simple – that the two of you could bond on this holiday, be a soft place for each other when other people couldn’t.

it was always your friends – who felt smarter, prettier, more intelligent and more interesting than you. it was like there was a secret, that there was something fundamental about them that you lacked. that you could pin it to that inherent thing that you would never really possess, which is why you always ended up alone on this day.

or begging for a text back.

and for yuuji. it was the teasing comments. from his dad, a classmate, something said in passing that would never leave his mind. and really, the deep rooted despair – that this holiday, in its entirety, would never be one that he would get to enjoy. that even if he was happy, he wouldn’t ever be normal, that maybe he’d always get a weird look or turn a head just for being how he was.

and when kugisaki came along, it was nearly perfect. you’d each plan a little activity together. you’d get the two of them to bake with you – or more appropriately, stick their fingers into the batter and watch you bake – and kugisaki would make you participate in some ear-splitting karaoke.

yuuji always liked the warmth of it all, that you’d both fall asleep on his shoulders halfway into the stupid rom-com he picked, and that in the confined walls of his room, he could pretend for one second that things weren’t as they were.

and years later, megumi was added to the bunch and by translation, whichever girl nobara seemed to be talking to at the time, ended up tagging along too.

it dampens the mood a little bit. that yuuji and megumi will be holding hands and making the batter together – in a way that seems entirely romantic and antithetical to what the point of bestie-tines was. and nobara’s partners were always in that stage, that stage of talking where the chase became so intoxicating, that other people didn’t seem to exist anymore.

it didn’t bother you much. the underlying theme was still there – and being the person barring partners from a valentine’s day event seemed to be too pathetic of a hole to crawl into.

yuuji swings the door open after your first knock, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. you nearly cowering at the touch and wiping the wetness away from your cheek.

“i haven’t seen you in forever, dude. where have you been?” yuuji asks, nearly pulling you in by the arms and taking the little platter from your hands.

you tuck the ends of your hair behind your ears, giving side hugs to both nobara and megumi as you respond.

“just around. you know. senior year, thesis stuff.”

“i feel like i could usually find you holed up in the library somewhere. d’you find some new secret spot that you aren’t telling me about?” yuuji asks.

yes. your brother’s apartment.

and you would tell him – you have every intention to let all of them know that you were dating sukuna by the end of the night, because at this point, it was almost stupid not to.

because really, at the core of it, it’s not like you're embarrassed of him. actually quite the opposite.

and it’s not that yuuji can police who you date. and if it’s something that makes you happy, it should be something that makes them happy too.

and deep down, you know it will. that the fact that you were finally, almost being rewarded with what you were given – someone who was patient, was understanding.

someone who would be able to love you.

“university of reading? who goes to the university of reading?”

you look down at your sweatshirt, biting down on your cheek, as you give megumi a peachy smile.

“sukuna did. like back in the day.” yuuji answers, halfheartedly, into the conversation as he and maki, nobara’s guest for this bestie-tines, set up the karaoke machine.

megumi gives you a weird look, before leaning against the counter and nobara joining you at your side. she leans her head against your shoulder, one of the little heart shaped cookies trapped in between her lips, as she mumbles through the crumb.

“are they stale? i had to make them yesterday.”

“nope. s’perfect.”

you hum in response.

“are you bringing anyone, y/n?” maki asks, flipping all the little strobe lights on the little machine.

“oh-”

“y/n doesn’t bring anyone to bestie-tines.” yuuji answers, unwrapping the coil of the microphone.

“our little baby. y’know, she’s always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” nobara states, pinching the side of your cheek before she reaches forward to flip in through the little catlog of songs.

you pinch your lips into a straight line – swallowing down that acidic feeling in your throat.

the jokes don’t work the same anymore. not that you were going to be sukuna’s bride, but the implication is entirely different.

and maybe the phrasing was a little weird. it’s not like you would never bring someone to bestie-tines, it’s just that it had to be someone who was an established partner of yours. and at the core of it – it was always about friends, not romantic partners, and you never felt the need to front.

not that you would ever say that. it almost felt wrong to – to police something for yuuji when what he got to experience, at least in the romantic sphere in public, was always going to be met with some level of scrutiny.

but it was always wrong. what you used to reach for – lipstick on a pig, always an angel never a god, the poet but never the poem.

but…but it didn’t ring true. at least not anymore.

and it goes fine and well. yuuji – and a megumi who takes a little convincing – sing lover and nobara gives you her annual loving serenade to the song one less lonely girl.

and it all comes crashing down when they ask you to sing all by myself by celine dion.

“oh, c’mon. you sing it like every year! it’s like your anthem!” yuuji whines, pressing the microphone into your hand.

you shake your head, bringing your hands up in protest.

“no singing from me this year. i’ve retired.”

“dude, it’s like a tradition!” nobara adds, a hand lazily slung over maki’s shoulder.

you swallow down the retort. that actually, the tradition was that ALL of you sang all by myself together. not you alone, while they sat there and watched you. and that you all baked the cookies together, not you alone the night before in your apartment.

“not this year!” you respond, getting a resounding group of boo’s before maki takes her place.

if they really cared about traditions, megumi and maki wouldn’t be there right now – they’d celebrate tomorrow. on valentine’s day, like intended.

yuuji comes out at your side, megumi distracted by recording the god awful mess coming out of maki’s mouth, and places his hands on your shoulders – leaning his chin right against the top of your head.

“you okay?” he asks.

“mhm.”

yuuji pauses, before digging his fingers into your muscle and forcing you to spin around to look at him. it’s gives you a weird twinge for a split second – how similar he looks to sukuna – before you muster your best smile for him.

“we’re good, right?”

“yeah! yeah, of course. still on for friday?”

“yeah.”

you hum in response, the two of you giving each other tight lipped smiles in the awkward silence, before yuuji leans against the counter, the two of you watching maki and nobara make their attempts to strangle megumi.

“maybe next year we can keep bestie-tines to just you and me.” yuuji states.

you frown.

“no! no, it’s always fun with the group. plus, it’s nobara’s karaoke machine. doubt she’d let us use it without an invite.”

yuuji smiles in response, an airy laugh leaving his lips. he leans his head against yours, his cheek smushed against your head before squeezing you hard.

“i like the group too. but, we rarely get any me and you time anymore. so, just our thing. i can live one day without megumi.”

you grin.

“i find that hard to believe. and don’t worry. i’m really not upset or anything, you-you don’t have to change plans and stuff. i just…didn’t want to sing the song. for my own reasons.” you state.

yuuji gives you a nod.

“yeah, i know. but still – just feel like i barely know what’s going on with you anymore. what rom-com are you going to watch tomorrow?”

this is your segway.

yuuji knows that you always spend valentine’s day the same way. that you make the ten minute sheet valentine’s day cookies, light your peony and rose candle, and pick a rom-com before you head to bed early.

“ah. i’m having an early brunch before class.”

“fancy. it’s always nice to treat yourself.” yuuji states.

you bite your tongue.

“yeah, yeah it is. but…i’m going with my boyfriend.”

yuuji leans off of your body, eyes pinched in confusion as he looks down at you. the rolling wave of embarrassment, of nerve-wracking doubt courses through you.

“you have a boyfriend?”

you swallow hard.

“yeah. um, we’ve been seeing each other since after christmas. he’s um…really good to me and stuff. i really like him – well actually i told him i was falling in love with him and he said he was too and-”

“woah. that’s kind of fast.” yuuji states.

“yeah. but, i’ve also known him for a long time, so…so we kind of skipped some of that like – are you a murderer? talking stage.” you state.

“the odds are low, but never zero.” yuuji jokes.

the two of you laugh, as you dig your nails into the hardness of your palm.

“you should have brought him. though in hindsight, that probably would have scared him off.” yuuji states.

“it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before though. but i couldn’t exactly bring sukuna here without telling you first. or everyone else too.” you murmur.

yuuji pauses, before fully turning to face you.

“you…you’re dating sukuna?”

“yeah. that’s where i’ve been, i guess. he gave me a key to his apartment since mai is mai and i just kind of stay there a lot.” you state.

yuuji’s nodding, like he’s rolling over the information on his mind.

the immediate hesitation, the silence – it speaks volumes.

he doesn’t approve.

“is he going to come on friday?”

“no. not if you don’t want him to.” you state.

“yeah. s’just…the mix of the parents. and him and you and sammy stuff. just give me a second to get used to all of that.” yuuji states.

you bite down on your cheek.

“you’re okay with it?”

yuuji smiles, the sentiment not meeting his eyes.

“not like that’s going to stop you, right?” he asks, an almost jeering tone in his voice.

“yuuji.”

“i’m kidding! if he makes you happy, then good for you. just don’t want it to change things between us. don’t go forgetting all about me because you have him.”

that’s rich coming from him.

“of course. you and me, first. always.”

yuuji gives you an affirmative nod, before pushing off the counter and leaving you alone.

you’re tipsy when you get on the train. and by the time you’re pushing the key through sukuna’s doors, the tears that have been streaming down your face for the past twenty minutes are obstructing your vision.

you’re not sure when it was that you started crying. somewhere between fifteenth street and your stop and that overwhelming feeling with no real source – of the embarrassment, the bleakness, the disappointment – it’s enough to bring everything coming to a head.

and the thing that pushes you right over the edge is the fact that you can’t slide the key into the lock. it's so frustrating that you give up and lean against the door, the wood of the frame surely indenting your forehead as you heavily pant.

after five minutes, you nearly collapse into sukuna’s arms when he opens the door you were leaning your entire weight against. he’s fast with it, his hands at your sides holding you up against him.

“jesus fuck, y/n. i thought someone was trying to break in.” sukuna utters.

you instinctively wrap your arms around his frame, burying your face into the warmth of his neck. you can tell that he’s confused by the gesture – his arms not coming up around yours immediately.

“sorry. didn’t mean to scare you.” you sniffle, leaning your burning eyelids against his cold skin.

“are you crying, doll?”

“maybe a little.”

your voice comes out all muffled against his shirt, as he wraps his hand around your neck and lolls your head back with his fingers. the sparkly glitter is spread all over your face now, accompanied with black streaks running down your cheek.

sukuna immediately frowns, thumb rubbing against the wetness as his eyes soften.

it nearly makes you start crying all over again.

“do you want me to kill someone?” sukuna jokes.

sukuna can see the smallest makings of a smile on your face.

“your key hole. i couldn’t open the door.” you whisper.

“done. fuck the door.”

sukuna watches as you laugh, bringing the palms up to your face as you wipe away at your cheeks. he watches as you eye the mess of glitter on your hands, trying to wipe it away, before you look back up at him.

“you smell like detergent, sukuna.” you murmur, wrinkling your nose.

his eyes go wide, an almost pink flush creeping up his neck as he shakes his head. he tries to change the subject

“why are you crying?”

you heave, the tiredness sitting in your limbs as you frown at him.

“sukuna, honey. i’m really tired and i…i just want to get into bed. just tell me why you smell like you rolled around in the laundry detergent for an hour.”

you watch as sukuna pinches his lips in a line, before bring his hands down to lock them with yours. he lifts them briefly just to press a kiss on top of your knuckles, his eyes downcast, before he murmurs against them.

“let’s get ready for bed. i’ll tell you, okay?” he murmurs.

you give him an affirmative nod, the two of you shuffling around each other in the bedroom and bathroom as you wordlessly go through your routines. the two of you brush your teeth together, sukuna pulling a piece of floss for you, and sukuna carefully helps you change without sparing a second glance.

the smell of detergent is almost worse in the bedroom – overwhelming at first before your nose adjusts and you crawl under the sheets with sukuna. you watch as he swipes his shirt over his neck with one hand, necklace hanging loosely around his neck, as he digs one of his arms underneath you.

sukuna leans over to your side, as he reaches for your hair and he twists one of the loose strands in his fingers.

“your stupid thing didn’t go well?”

you sigh.

“no. i told yuuji i was dating you. guess it wasn’t the reaction i was expecting.”

“you told him?”

in the pale light, your eyes having adjusted to the darkness, you reach forward and press your fingers against his dimple.

“course i did. i’m serious about you…and i don’t want to hide that.”

sukuna can feel the sweet ache blooming in his chest, his eyes nearly squinting with a soft joy.

“i just feel like it’s weird. i think they got used to my whole…personality being that guys treat me bad, that my love life is lame that…maybe they don’t know what to do when that doesn’t apply anymore.” you murmur.

your palm is flesh against sukuna’s lips and he uses it as an opportunity to press a kiss to your skin.

“and it’s not just them, i guess. i feel that to some extent too. i feel like…i held onto everything that happened and that it became a part of me. but now that i have no reason to feel that way and sometimes it feels like i don’t know anything. i don’t know what music to listen to because the sad songs don’t really hit anymore. spending time alone isn’t a curse, it’s actually really enjoyable sometimes. and it’s weird to try to figure out who i am when i’m not sad, especially when it feels like…people might not like me if i change.”

it comes out quietly when sukuna says it.

“i’ll love you regardless.”

you hum in response, the words making your chest ache, as you lean forward and tuck yourself into his arms. you bring up one of your hands to his bare pecs and squeeze and you can hear the disdain in his scoff as you can’t help but quietly giggle.

“i’m going to break your hands if you do that again.”

“just so comforting, y’know? really helps me feel better.”

“right. me telling you i’ll love you forever pales in comparison.”

you smile.

“you said you’ll love me regardless. like you will, in the future. now you’re saying you’ll love me forever, which kind of insinuates that you do right now.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, one of his warm hands enveloping your cheek.

“do you want to hear me say it, brat?”

you grin.

“maybe a little.”

your heart beats faster as you wait in anticipation, for the three words leaving his lips.

“i love you, pretty girl.”

sukuna watches as you smile wider, the sweetness in your face as you press a kiss to his lips. he can feel you smiling into him, your hands featherlike around his neck as you pull him closer.

“i love you too, stinky.”

“you ruined it.” sukuna groans.

you press your cheek against his shoulder, before you mumble again.

“now tell me what happened with you today?”

sukuna groans, before ghosting his hands under your his shirt.

“princess.”

“you could never say anything that i’d find weird, y’know? i’m never going to pass judgment on you, i just want to know so i can help you if need be.” you whisper.

sukuna gives you a quiet nod, before talking.

“i took every piece of clothing you had here and threw it in the laundry.” sukuna states.

“huh?”

that had to have taken hours. you’ve nearly transferred your entire wardrobe over here at this point.

“you…you asked me to wash the sweater for your party. and i know that you take time to pick out your outfits and match your accessories and, and themed parties like this are like your shit or whatever.”

his voice gets quieter.

“i’d hate to think i ruined something for you, y/n.”

“sukuna. it’s just a shi-”

“it’s not just a shirt to me. because i’ll forget to wash your shirt but then i’ll be to tired to help you do dishes. won’t be able to tear myself from work to pick you up from school when you ask. forget to respond to your emails and become neglectful. i’d hate to have you be disappointed at me when i can’t do these things for you.”

you’re quiet. you can tell that there’s something he’s trying to say, at the tip of his tongue, but he won’t let it go.

“c’mon, baby. keep going for me?” you whisper.

the gentleness in your voice feels like a promise. and maybe if there wasn’t something so intoxicating about baring himself to you, giving you his secrets to keep, he wouldn’t be so keen on doing it all the time.

“i’ve disappointed my mom time and time again. been able to mediate fights between her and my dad, but barely control my temper at school. and yuuji – i know he needed me, but sometimes i was…it was too much for me that i couldn’t do it for him. i’ve failed them in more ways than one and i can’t do that with you. you…you have to be the exception when it comes to this.”

the desolate tone in his voice is nearly enough to bring tears into your eyes as you tuck his head into your neck, his breaths labored, as you run your hands through his hair.

“i…i can’t promise you that it won’t be weird. when i get like this, my mom would almost get pissed sometimes because i’d try to do everything to make it up to her. open the door for her, answer her phone. one time i even tried to make her drink water while i held the glass. i-i know it’s weird but i-”

you dig your fingers into his scalp, feeling the pulsating near his temple.

“okay, sukuna. i’ll be more than thankful if you decide to help me with the little things. but, sweetheart. please don’t think you have some debt against me. you don’t owe me anything.”

“i know it’s not a normal habit and i-”

“that’s not what i meant, sukuna. i know that you’re aware of that. but…but just let me say these things till they sink in for you, okay? you’re my boyfriend and that doesn’t mean you have to be the end all be all. i can wash my own shirts here and there and help you out too. i love that you want to be helpful honey, but lean on me too, okay?”

sukuna feels small. not in the infantile, reductive kind of way. in the rare kind of ways he’s felt only a handful of times. like when he got sick and his mom had to take care of him. or when yuuji had to help him out by carrying his books after he broke his arm.

“what’s that weird shit you told me about once? about the little you inside you or whatever?”

“oh. an inner child?”

“yeah.”

“what about it?” you ask.

“you just kind of…remind me of it sometimes.” sukuna states.

“in a good way or a bad way?”

sukuna smiles.

“good. sometimes i forget that’s in there. s’nice that you see that part of me. bring it out of me sometimes.”

the earnestness almost makes you cry. you love him so much.

“me too, baby.”

next part linked here

an: no one look at me. this is for me and me only. (the headspace goes crazy at the current moment) the next chapter gives me second hand embarrassment but also its for the plot so im excited

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yuujispinkhair · 1 year

Text

Tease

You get caught up in a game of seduction with your new housemate Solomon. A game you never announced publicly. But the rules are clear. Whoever can make the other give in to their desires first is the winner. In more ways than one. Who will it be? The sexy sorcerer or you?

Pairing: Solomon x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut, sexual teasing, mentions of mutual masturbation through the bedroom wall, mirror sex, nipple play, fingering, praise, dirty talk, slight over-stimulation. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

It's a game. A game of who can seduce the other one first. A game of who will give in first to their desires. It has been going on for weeks now. Ever since you moved into Cocytus Hall with Solomon. You can always feel his eyes on you, following you everywhere you go. And you do the same, unable to keep your gaze off the silver-haired sorcerer, who somehow has become even more attractive now that you are so close to him all the time.

Yes, it's part of the game when Solomon flirts with you openly. When he smiles that charming smile and calls you love and darling, and compliments you whenever he can.

Just like it's part of the game when you grin like the Cheshire Cat and call him your boyfriend in front of the demon brothers, with a teasing wink in Solomon's direction and a friendly pat on his thigh.

Solomon tells everyone during dinner that you are very special to him and that the two of you have a very deep relationship, making it sound as if you are fucking on every surface of your shared home. His words are accompanied by a soft touch of his fingertips on your hand that's resting next to your plate. Under the table, you have to press your thighs together as heat throbs in your core.

In turn, you pretend to stumble over the carpet in your living room the next day, landing conveniently in Solomon's lap, where he is man-spreading on the couch, looking so sexy that your panties are already sticky with wetness.

His reaction is a low, breathy whisper,

"Careful, darling. Don't hurt yourself. You're lucky I was sitting here to catch you."

You almost moan when you nuzzle your face into his neck and let your lips brush teasingly over his sensitive skin as you whisper thanks to him. However, your smile is victorious when you feel a tell-tale hardness press against you.

But he resists you, just like you resist him too. No winner is declared tonight. You go to sleep in separate rooms, listening to each other's soft moans carrying through the thin wall, as both of you have a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of the other.

You start dressing in your tightest clothes and shortest dresses, making sure to give your sexy sorcerer something to fantasize about every day.

But you aren't the only one making this game move.

You chuckle softly when you realize that anytime Solomon enters your shared home, he immediately takes off his flowy coat. Revealing his tall, lean muscled figure to you in his tight-fitting black pants and the long-sleeved shirt that shows off his body. You can see every firm muscle. He looks good!

You know he is doing it on purpose. You know it by the way he cocks his head and smiles as if daring you. As if saying, 'Come here and put your hands on me, darling. Don't you want to touch me?'

Your fingers twitch with the almost irresistible urge to just lunge at him and grab those sexy muscles. But you refuse. Balling your fingers into fists and smiling back at him, angelic, sweet, innocent. You will not lose this game!

And so the game continues without any player ever mentioning that it is taking place.

You and Solomon are teasing each other and flirting 24/7, filling the room with so much sexual tension that it is almost touchable.

But never more than that.

Neither wants to lose, it seems. Both of you are ambitious players.

You turn your head to the side and laugh before you are too caught up in Solomon's blue eyes and seductive voice while he caresses your cheek under the guise of brushing away a breadcrumb.

And he gently but firmly pushes you off his lap and off his hard-on with a soft laugh and a good-natured,

"I suggest you get some rest, love, if you are so unsteady on your pretty feet that you trip and fall into my lap.

You know that he knows what you are doing. And he knows that you know too. Both of you seem to enjoy this game of slow seduction immensely. You definitely do. It's addictive to tease and flirt and see how far you can go until Solomon snaps. Until you win.

Ironically, when it finally happens, it isn't even part of your elaborate plan to get some sexy sorcerer dick. It is just you being a forgetful idiot.

You have just finished your long luxurious bath when you realize you forgot to bring fresh clothes.

You are too busy cursing under your breath about having to walk down the cold hallway stark-naked that you don't even see him until a graceful but firm hand closes around your arm.

"Enough is enough, you little tease. What do you think you're doing? You're the naughtiest apprentice I ever had."

Solomon's voice is low, talking slowly, pronouncing every word clearly. The tone of his voice is a seductive mix of stern and amused. His words and the firm grip on your arm leave no doubt. Tonight the two of you will cross that invisible line that you have been tiptoeing around.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"S... Solomon."

You can feel his tall body pressing against your back now. Firm muscles and potent magic. It's arousing to have him this close. To stand here stark naked while he is fully clothed. A shudder washes over you, accompanied by a pulsing sensation between your legs. You can feel yourself getting wet just from this.

And it only gets more intense when you feel the luxurious fabric of his clothes brush over your skin. When you feel the firmness of his body and his warm breath on your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear,

"I admit defeat. I can't keep my hands off you any longer. But just so you know, sweetheart. You aren't playing fair."

A light gasp escapes your mouth when the grip of his strong hands tightens on your arms, and he steers you back into the bathroom you just left.

Your heart is beating up to your throat, your mind is spinning, and your pussy is very, very wet. You feel light-headed, almost dizzy from excitement.

Solomon is so strong, so powerful, easily maneuvering you through the vast bathroom. He stops walking, and the firm grip on your upper arms loosens, replaced by his long fingers gently running down your arms. His thumbs graze the sides of your naked breasts, sending shock waves of pleasure through you.

You lift your head and blink. Your breath comes out shakily when you realize where you are. Your reflection is staring back at you from the full-length mirror, eyes heavily lidded, pupils blown wide, and lips parted almost dumbly. Your breasts are enticingly squished together from the way you press your arms to your sides, your nipples erect and so sensitive that even the brush of air makes you moan softly.

You look slutty. Aroused and naughty, standing here in front of the mirror, naked in the arms of the man you desire so badly.

Blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. Solomon's gaze is deep and intense, desire burning unguardedly in those beautiful blue and brown irises. Yet, underneath the desire, you can still see a cheeky twinkle. The same sparkle you have seen every day since your little game started.

You return his intense gaze, sure that he can see how turned on you are. And then his eyes leave yours to slowly trail down further, taking in the sight of your naked body, your full breasts, and all your curves. You gulp when his gaze lingers on the place between your thighs.

Your pulse is fluttering nervously. It's humiliating to be so fully exposed to Solomon's lustful gaze, To be completely naked while he is still dressed, knowing that he is looking at your pussy. The thought alone makes more cream coat your pussy lips.

You make an embarrassing noise, a soft squeak, and turn your face to the side, too ashamed suddenly to look into the mirror and see Solomon's hungry gaze on your exposed body.

A soft laugh fills the room, and strong arms wrap around your waist while warm lips leave a barely palpable trail of kisses over your neck.

"Don't act shy now, darling. Isn't this what you planned? Didn't you want to seduce me? Didn't you want to drive me crazy with your body? It certainly worked."

He pulls you closer to him until your body is flush against his. And you can feel it. You can feel how crazy you drive him. How much he wants you. You can feel his hard cock press against your back, large and hot even through the silky fabric of his neat black pants.

A whine escapes your lips. A sound so needy that it's embarrassing. But you nod and answer him with a breathy,

"Y... yes. That was my plan."

"I have to congratulate you on your win, then. I couldn't resist your charms any longer. Well played, sweetheart."

His voice is velvety soft, warm, and deep, arousal clear in it. But there is also a teasing tone to it.

Soft, warm hands come up to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently.

"Ah, yes, just as I thought. You feel so good under my hands."

Solomon's touch is loving but firm. Long fingers sprawl over your tits, playing with them, squeezing them lovingly, making you moan and let your head fall back against Solomon's shoulder.

Technically you have won. But have you really? You aren't sure who is seducing who at the moment. Solomon took full control over the situation, even though you are the one who was proclaimed the winner. But there is no doubt about who is in charge at the moment.

Maybe it's his natural dominance. Maybe it's his height and strength. Maybe the powerful magic exuding from him. No matter what it is, you are putty in his arms. Your breath comes out in short gasps, your body is melting against Solomon's firm muscles, heart racing wildly, and pussy throbbing with need, so wet that you can feel it on your inner thighs.

Solomon's fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching them between two fingers, rolling them gently, teasingly tugging on them until you moan loudly and your eyes close in pleasure.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at yourself."

Solomon's breath is warm on your neck, and his voice is dripping with desire and smugness. He loves the power he has over you. And you love it too, love being under his spell, trapped in his strong arms.

You sob as you obey his command and open your eyes. What you see in the mirror makes you moan loudly. You see yourself squirming needily in Solomon's arms, lips hanging open as moans spill from them, eyes clouded over by lust. And your nipples are stiff and erect, tits plump in Solomon's strong hands where he squishes them together.

He presses a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, blue eyes watching you admiringly in the mirror.

"Yes, keep looking, darling. Look how beautiful you are. I want you to watch closely. Watch me play with you, my pretty girl."

You whine when his warm, loving hands let go of your sensitive tits. But they only wander further down your body, caressing your sides slowly, while hot kisses trail up and down your neck and the thick hardness trapped in Solomon's pants throbs against your back.

You would make a pact with him right this second just to get his cock inside you. But the only thing you can do is shiver and exhale shakily as skilled fingers caress your hips.

Somehow you know Solomon won't give you the whole package tonight. The game isn't over yet. But you will take everything he is willing to give you. You will collect your prize for your victory by letting yourself fall apart under Solomon's magical fingers.

Those fingers brush teasingly over your inner thighs. They graze lightly over your wet slit. And you gasp loudly, pussy creaming up even more, hot and slick against Solomons exploring hands.

"Let me see all of you, my love."

Your gaze is glued to where Solomon's firm fingers spread your pussy lips open, exposing your glistening wet clit and folds. You are dripping with arousal, your cunt giving away just how much you crave the gorgeous sorcerer.

A low sexy moan is coming from him, and he rolls his hips against your ass, pushing his large cock against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

"Oh fuck, look at you. Look at my pretty girl and her pretty pussy. So beautiful and so wet. Let me take care of that pretty pussy for you."

Two fingers find your puffy clit and rub slow circles around it, spreading your cream over it, making your hips buck and your mouth part with loud moans.

Solomon's breath is hot on your neck as his soft low moans join yours. His fingers keep flicking your swollen bud, gentle and slow. And maybe he is really working magic on you because nothing has ever felt so good as Solomon's hands on your body, on your tits, and your pussy.

You gulp hard as you observe yourself in the mirror, watching yourself spread your legs sluttily for Solomon. Watching him rub your needy pussy so expertly that you are a shaking, whining mess.

"Yes, just like that, darling. Look how beautiful you are. You're doing so well. You're such a good girl for me."

You don't know whether it's the praise coming out of Solomon's mouth in that sexy raspy tone or whether it's the way he rubs and pampers your clit, that makes you sob loudly. You are already so embarrassingly close to cumming.

Solomon pushes two fingers inside you, making you see stars. It's like he is using his magic on you, like it is inside you, filling your pussy, making it throb with a kind of pleasure you haven't known before. He fucks you with his fingers, deep and good, while his other hand massages your clit.

Your eyes close as you give yourself completely to the sexy sorcerer, leaning on him, your head resting against his firm chest, legs spread for him, moaning his name while your cream is dripping down his long fingers.

"Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Watch me pamper that cute pussy of yours."

What you see is a total horny wreck. Your tits bounce sluttily from how hard you ride Solomon's fingers, so desperate to cum. The noises that fall from your parted lips are obscene, loud, needy mewls and sobs, but they almost get drowned out by the loud squishing noises of your overly wet pussy.

Solomon's fingers push against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your hips buck wildly. You are almost crying by now from how good it feels, getting on your tiptoes, body so ready to cum all over those gorgeous fingers, needily chasing after your high.

"Solomon!! Oh yes, yes, right there! Ah!! I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

"Mmmh, I know, darling, I know. Show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers."

You fall apart right then and there, crying out brokenly as your hands grab Solomon's arms, digging your nails into them as your orgasm overtakes you, long and hot, with a dizzying force. Your pussy spasms around Solomon's fingers, body shaking, loud cries falling from your lips. You feel hot all over, your face, your whole body, but most of all, your pussy. It's almost too much, too intense.

You are trembling and sobbing, clawing at Solomon's wrists, but he stops you,

"Shh, let me take proper care of you, just like you deserve."

And he keeps fucking you with those talented fingers, slower now, while his thumb plays with your over-stimulated clit, gradually slowing his movements to slow, gentle caresses. But he doesn't stop until he has rubbed every last wave of orgasm out of you.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, he lets them trail over your puffy clit, making your hips buck one last time before you collapse bonelessly against Solomon, resting your full weight against his firm body, but he doesn't even stagger.

Your breathing is ragged, and your pussy is pulsing with the heavy aftershocks of your orgasm. You lift your head to look at Solomon's beautiful face in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his blue eyes are dark with desire. But the teasing smile is still on his face as he brings the fingers you just came on to his lips and slowly licks them clean, rolling his eyes in pleasure as if your taste is the most delicious thing the self-proclaimed gourmet ever tasted in his long life.

A delighted smile spreads over his face. And with that, Solomon steps away from you, strong hands steadying you, making sure you can stand on your own before he lets go of you.

"If you will excuse me now, please. I have to take care of an urgent matter."

He winks at you and gestures to the big bulge in his tight black pants.

"I can help you with that, darling."

"I know, but not today, sweetheart. Some dishes get even better when you let them simmer for a while."

He grins at you, and you find a matching smile tugging at your lips. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out,

"Hey, Solomon?"

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"I didn't plan this... I really forgot to bring a change of clothes."

Blue eyes blink at you for a moment, and then loud laughter fills the room. Solomon is shaking from it, holding his stomach as he grins broadly at you.

"Still, congrats on your win! But don't think the game is over yet. This was only the first round. Who knows, maybe I will win the next one."

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing for Solomon. I just couldn't resist anymore!! He has been one of my faves for a while already, and ever since we moved in with him in Nightbringer, I am constantly spinning more and more out of control aaaaaah I want him so bad!!!

I hope you enjoyed this little story and that my characterization was ok. I decided that as a fellow Sagittarius, Solomon surely loves a little game where he has to chase the object of his desires and gets chased in return. It makes things so much more exciting :) There might be another part someday. I mean, as Solomon said, the game is still on, and we still need to get that sorcerer dick ;)

Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs make me happy!

#solomon x reader #solomon smut #solomon x mc #solomon x you #obey me smut #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #solomon obey me

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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hii! could u write headcanons of Alastor x Male (preferly) Overlord Reader who is the opposite of him? Rarely smiles, isn't very chatty and is rough? and since Alastor loves dancing and singing, maybe Reader is shy about it and doesn't like the way he dances and sings?

You know what! I am gonna kill two birds with one stone and make us an Ink Demon! Overlord. So, we’re basically like Baby Bendy from the second BATIM game. Don’t know it? Look it up. One side is harmless and adorable and the other side is monstrous and vicious— however. Here, it’ll just be causal demon form than evil demonic Ink Demon form! Anyway. Let’s goooo. I’ve been doing a lot of GN for Alastor, this time we got a man! I don’t know if you want us to be romantic, I am just gonna guess platonic

Alastor- Follow Me

You look pretty cute and friendly. Black and white, cartoony, with adorable stereotypical demon features like arch-like horns and a long-thin tipped tail. Most importantly, your entire body is made of ink. Only your clothing is touchable, otherwise, your ‘skin’ is so soft, liquidity and stains anything it touches. For that reason and one more, you harden yourself up and avoid conversation

Alastor, the Radio Demon, is not a fan of making friends with men. He prefers women, they are just easier to talk to. However, you’re not as vile and unlikeable as most men with your personality is. You’re the strict, stern, responsible one of the Overlords, ordering the other Overlords to pay attention to Camilla Carmine

Alastor doesn’t know why but he finds you interesting

Your uncontrollable Ink Demon side is extremely violent and merciless so you had to develop a thick shell, in order to make sure nothing can make it trigger at random. It’s too much of a risk, hence why you behave in the way you do. It’s a self-defence mechanism and it’s a protection method to everybody else around too

Alastor doesn’t even care that you’re untouchable. He will touch you anyway, getting annoyed by the black ink forming your body in a in-fact, solid fashion, getting onto his sleeves or hand but he ignores it to converse with you

Alastor also ignores the gruff warnings you give out when he approaches you. That you’re dangerous and that the Ink Beast will try rip him to pieces if it’s let out. If anybody thinks Alastor would be scared of the Ink Demon, they have another thing coming. He’d actually like to face off this Ink Beast one day

It looks like, to every other Overlord, that Alastor is talking to a brick wall when he talks to you. Since you’re not responding not even looking at him, just focusing on Camilla and her statements with the most bland and rough expression, not a single hint of a grin. You’re the opposite of Alastor and yet, he’d like to befriend you

Alastor keeps trying and trying without even halting. He’s quite the persistent man and when he wants to befriend somebody, he won’t stop until he gets what he desires and at this moment, it’s to make friends with you, rather you shut him down and bark at him to stay away

Alastor finds your overall appearance cute. You look like you were drawn for a kids cartoon in the early 19th century. Possibly around his own time of the 1920s-1930s. You’re bendy and mendable, you defy all laws of logic and have cartoon physics on your side. You’re like if a kids cartoon demon tried to be a big bad mafia boss and ruled a part of Hell itself, and he isn’t filtered when it comes to this opinion. He straight up tells you all that

Alastor, overtime, ends up succeeding like the little I don’t take no for a answer brat he is in getting you to agree in joining him out to the Hazbin Hotel and accompanying him for a nice little tour. Throughout the tour, he notices that some music in the Lobby is blasting and without even hesitating, he drags you over to join him into a dance

“Come, my dear sir. Let us dance this tension away!” Alastor chimes out rather excited, immediately leading you into a half-messy dance performance with him as the head. You just stumble along, slightly gritting your fangs in discomfort but it won’t be acknowledged by Alastor in the slightest. All he cares about is putting a smile on your face

Alastor laughs warmly as you attempt to try keep up with him during this dance he had dragged you into. You’re clearly quite timid, not enjoying the way the Deer Overlord dances and sings but you either don’t care enough to shut him up or you are too kind to try shut him up

Alastor likes to tease you about your behaviour and your looks. He isn’t frightened or intimidated at all by your beast side and you’re too colourless and squishy to be scary, he does actually view you as a wonderful friend. Even whilst you’re cold and dismissive, he can get you to acknowledge him and be polite to him so it’s a win for Alastor in the end

It’s been a long time since Alastor got a male friend so he can be more crude and snarky with you, without actually needing to be sensitive, like with his women friends

“My good fellow. You don’t need to act so broody. Smile now, you’re safe and whatever you are worried about, it’s not going to do anything to you or me or anybody in this Hotel”

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princessbrunette · 6 months

Text

kinktober : oct 19th

modern!anakin x phone sex

anakin wasn’t really one for phone sex. if he wanted you, he’d drive the distance just to have you squirming beneath him — but sometimes, life happens. in this case, you were on vacation with your friends, and you could feel yourself growing needy.

it had only been a few days and you’d missed him. you were having a great time with your friends, sipping cocktails and hanging around all day in a bikini, but seeing couples at the beach, canoodling in the ocean together would occasionally etch a pout onto your face, wishing you had your own man here with you.

you’d said goodnight to your friends four nights in, a little tipsy from the hotel cocktail bar, skin warm from being in the sun all day. you finally reenter your lone hotel room and lock the door, readying yourself for your nightly bedtime phone call. he’s an hour or so behind, so he’s usually a lot more awake than you are.

it doesn’t take long for the conversation to shift, only one thing on your mind.

it starts when you’re forwarding the pictures you took that day across to him, images appearing on his screen of you looking soft and touchable in your bikini, the colour glowing against your skin — and if you squint, nipples pebbles beneath the triangle bra.

“pretty baby. that’s a nice bikini.” you hear the smile in his voice when he receives them. at the praise, and the remaining alcohol still buzzing around your body you snuggle down further into the bed, biting your lip feeling warm and affectionate. you can hear him moving about his room, perhaps tidying or looking for something and you close your eyes, trying to imagine him at home.

“wish you were here to take it off me.” you groan quietly, and you hear his movement stop — a few seconds of silence as he registers your mood. after a beat, he speaks with a slow smile and something of a cautious tone.

“you feeling good, sweet girl? you had a lot to drink tonight?” he questions, never wanting to take advantage.

“not a lot, i swear — i just miss you ani… and i miss your…” you cut yourself to giggle, not quite brave enough yet to say something so vulgar. you can practically hear the amused expression in his tone when he retaliates, and you hear the bed creak as he drops back onto it, halting his tasks to focus on you.

“miss my what? go on.”

you bite your tongue to stifle your giggle before responding. “miss your cock.” you brave, wedging your fingernail into your mouth. he relaxes, taking control of the situation as usual.

“yeah?” he cooes before tsking at you through the phone. “on vacation with your friends and all you can think about is getting dicked down? c’mon baby, what would they think?” he pretends to scold you and you roll onto your front, feeling your body get hot in embarrassment at the fake scolding regardless. you whine into the pillow before lifting your head to respond.

“its not like thaaaat, i just keep seeing couples at the beach and… s’not fair— just want you to be here so you can pull my bikini bottoms to the side in the ocean and — and no one would have to know—”

“shh, shh— alright baby. gonna work yourself up.” he chuckles, adjusting himself in his grey sweatpants he was just lounging in at home. “are you laying on your back for me?” he soothes and you huff, breathing suddenly a little shaky as you roll back to where you were facing the ceiling.

“mhm.”

“good girl.” he speaks slowly, giving your body time to react. you sigh hard at the praise, melting into the hotels bedsheets. a little whimper leaves you, but you’re unsure of whether or not the mic picks it up. “are you wearing anything?” he knows he’s greedy, but he’s already palming himself a little.

“no, just had a shower and got on the bed when i came back to my room.” you huff, eager to get to the good stuff.

“mm,” he thinks. “i think it’s a good thing i didn’t come on this trip, y’wanna know why?”

“why?”

“because the room next door would be making complaints to the reception about our headboard banging against their wall all night. all your friends would find out they invited their sweet little friends nasty boyfriend along just for him to fuck her silly every night. would be so embarrassing for you, baby.” he speaks so softly, so sympathetically your stomach twists and pussy aches.

“ani.” you whine, fisting at the sheets squeezing your thighs together. you don’t even think about touching yourself yet, it’s so ingrained in your brain that you need direct permission.

“dont tell me that’s making you horny, pretty girl.” he smiles wide, pretending to be scandalised. you wished he’d stop teasing you, but at the same time you enjoyed every moment. “am i getting that pretty pussy all wet? hmm?”

“mhm, want you to… ugh.” you sigh in frustration. luckily, he finishes the sentence for you instead of forcing you to repeat yourself coherently.

“want me to come and fuck it? wish i could baby, wish i could. we’re gonna have to make do tonight, think you can do that?” he asks like you’re dumb and you nod for a few seconds before realising he can’t see you.

“mhm, yes.”

“thats my clever girl. want you to spit on your fingers, can you do that now?” he directs and you waste no time, bringing your pointer, middle, and ring finger to your lips and drooling on them sloppily. you make a noise to signify it’s done, and he speaks again. “open up those legs for me and rub yourself just like i do. can you remember how i do it?” he speaks calmly, tugging his sweatpants down and letting his cock spring up against his stomach, spitting in his own hand.

“i think so.”

“i think you can too. you’re my smart girl, remember?” he praises and you shudder, doing as he says. you bring your wet fingers to your clit and hump against them, spreading your saliva through your folds and mixing it with your arousal. you whimper, and wince through your teeth. “yeah? how’s that baby? talk to me.”

“feels nice. not as nice as your fingers.” you comment wistfully, wet noises filling the room as you stroke your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i know, sweetheart. it’s not gonna be.” he hums, fisting at himself as he listens to you moan and breathe, deciding to help you along a little more. “you wanna know what i’d be doing if i was there with you?” he offers and you jerk against your own hand, already growing sensitive from your need.

“tell m-me.”

“please.”

“please.” you correct.

“well, i’d have your knees up by your chest, have you on your back letting me do all the work just like i know you like it. just slowly fucking you deep like that, letting you feel that little bulge in your tummy. remember the first time i made that happen, beautiful? had you crying and soaking me so fast, was so sweet.” he reminisces and you speed your movements, panting as you grow more desperate.

“want that so bad!”

“only a few more days and you can have it. you gonna try and put some fingers in now, baby?”

of course, you do as you’re told.

requested tags : @hanasnx @jellydodger

#modern!anakin smut #modern!anakin #modern!anakin drabble #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin au #kinktober 2023

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thedreamlessnights · 8 months

Text

Someone to shed some light - pt. 1

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone you've never met. He's more than he seems. AKA: An arranged marriage AU with everyone's favorite vampire.

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood, death, and minor injuries. Mentions of sex, but nothing particularly graphic. Very brief, not graphic suicidal ideation.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This idea possessed me and did not let me go. I don't know where it came from, or how on earth it's already 6k. I'm feral for Astarion, and it just... happened. Anyway. The royalty aspects are not remotely lore-accurate to the Baldur's Gate games, for which I apologize. Sometimes you just have to make shit up.

If reality is meant to be believable, then you must be in a dream.

No one ever said what kind of dream, though. Not a dream you’d wanted, that’s for sure. Most days, this all feels like some horrible nightmare. But maybe, just maybe - if you close your eyes and stay exactly where you are, thinking about nothing at all - it could be a nice one.

The palace gardens are beautiful, after all. Even this place can’t ruin that.

Silver moonlight shines on the earth below, giving everything a ghostly cast. Soft, silky wind brushes against your skin, and the faint aroma of flowers fills the air. Honeysuckle. Roses. Lilies.

Yes. If you shut your eyes tight and pretended everything else away, it would be a nice dream. But you know better. Beyond the lovely gardens and the ornamented walls, this place is a prison. And never, not in a thousand years, could you have pictured anything like this happening to you.

Not even in a dream.

You’ve never been one to fantasize about being royalty. Riches and power simply don’t appeal to you that way, especially not when comfortable clothes and the freedom to be yourself are traded in for the sake of discomfort and diplomacy.

Still, the reality of it is somehow even worse than you’d thought. The clothes pinch at your sides and itch at your neck, and you can’t move in them the way you want to. Everything you’ve worn is stiff and tight and ridiculously heavy, as if all your outfits were made for a doll, not for someone alive. Then again, maybe that was the intention. You certainly feel like a puppet.

If only none of it was real.

You still haven’t accepted any of it, not really. It’s as if you’re waiting for someone in the shadows to jump out at you and laugh, telling you it was all pretend. Of course you aren’t royalty, they’d say. Of course you don’t belong here. And you’d go back to your home, where everything is right, where you belong.

You can still see it all in your mind, so real that it’s practically touchable. The thought of it never fully fades. Just as soon as you’ve closed your eyes, you find yourself reliving that day once more.

The smell of baking bread floods a warm room. The heat of the fire sears the air. Customers bustle in and out, laughing and drinking and picking fights. Home. The way you’ve always known it. The way you’ve always loved it.

Then the room slowly goes silent. Wary. Palace guards lurk in the doorway, their eyes sweeping over the crowd, and your fingers immediately itch for your knife. The crown hasn’t any business in this place - what could they want?

When one of them steps inside, gazing at the crowd like they’re dirt beneath his feet, it takes everything you’ve got in you to stay calm. You can practically hear Cal’s voice in your head, telling you to take some deep breaths.

As the guard stalls in front of you, he stares. His gaze runs over you slowly, like you were less than he’d expected - a disappointment to him without even trying. “You,” he says. “You’re coming with us. Queen’s orders.”

Every pair of eyes in the inn land on you. Your heart starts beating so fast and rough that you’re sure it’ll burst straight through your ribs and fall out of you. The room spins. You’re biting your tongue, resisting the urge to pick a fight, because Cal is shaking his head and tugging at your sleeve. The single voice of reason in this place. Blood slowly fills your mouth with the taste of iron.

And you go with them. For some godsdamned reason, you go.

As soon as you’ve left, you know it was a mistake. There’s a whole troop here - enough men to tell you that you’re considered a threat, somehow. Enough men to keep your arms folded into you, wondering what in the hells you could have done to warrant this attention.

Despite everything, you force yourself to maintain some dignity, keeping your shoulders squared until you get to the palace. You suck in deep breaths and try to hide your shaking hands. This place… it won’t get the better of you, if you can help it. But it’ll all depend on why you’re here, and furthermore - what they want.

As you approach the throne room, they stand back to let you in. When you hesitate, the leader shoves you through the open door, and it slams shut behind you with a sound that echoes throughout the room. You’re left in a large, empty place with two shadowy figures that become clearer as you step further in. You recognize only one of them.

The queen is entrancing in the flesh, all dark hair and flashing eyes. She says nothing, but her gaze analyzes you from her throne as the man - who, from the look of things, must be her court sorcerer - approaches you. A needle pricks your finger and leaves a dull throbbing in its place.

Silence. A nod.

“It’s true, then,” the queen says. Her voice is like wine, dark and smooth in your ears. “You’re a child of Calthir. Royal blood flows in your veins.”

You’re standing in front of her, squinting in the bright light. Her words seem a million words away. Some other dimension. Some other reality.

“I - I don’t…”

“You poor thing. You didn’t know?” she asks. “Well. Perhaps they were clever to keep it from you. Or perhaps not.”

“It isn’t possible,” you blurt out. “What you’re saying. I can’t be… that.”

She raises a brow. “But you are.”

This time, your nails draw blood when they curve into your palms. Stinging pain floods your senses. “Then what do you want from me?” you ask, unable to mask the frustration brimming your words. “Calthir fell when I was a child. I don’t even remember it.”

“Where are your parents?” she asks.

You swallow hard. “Dead. Just after I was born.”

For a long moment, she stares down at you, her dark, intelligent eyes gleaming in the light. “Calthir has fallen, yes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t alive.” Her words are measured, carefully chosen for the most impact. “Every day, more of my soldiers are lost to Calthirian dreamers. They want their kingdom back, their so-called rightful ruler placed on the throne. You. They’ve been searching for you. Do you understand?”

You do. “You’re going to kill me.”

She clicks her tongue. “And make the problem worse?” With a graceful movement, she gets to her feet, towering over you from her throne. “No. Their search is thorough, aided by magic. They’d discover your fate, sooner or later.” She pauses, lifting two fingers to her temples as if sensing an oncoming headache. “You’d become a martyr. Mass kindling for the zealots. I won’t have that.

“Then what?” you ask weakly. “Prison?”

She laughs hollowly. “And what good would that do?”

You can’t think of an answer.

“No,” she sighs. “Prison would be pointless. A waste. I still have use for you.”

Fear floods your gut, thick and dark. When you speak, your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. “Which is?”

She tilts her head. “I’m sure you’ll find it simple enough. You’re going to marry my son.”

In the gardens, the crickets are singing. It’s the first thing you notice when you come back to yourself, ears ringing. You’ve gone through that memory a hundred times, but it seems more real now, sharper, somehow. Your stomach churns with the urge to be sick, but the feeling fades quickly.

It’s starting to settle in. That this is your life now. You’ll likely never see your home again. Your friends. All of your ambition, gone - thrown away for some petty diplomacy. You’re engaged to a man you’ve never met, and for the rest of your life, he’ll be tied to you.

More than anything else in this place, the prince doesn’t seem real. Even his name feels foreign in your thoughts, a muddy figure you can never put a face on. Strangely enough, the palace doesn’t have any portraits of him - which doesn’t put you any more at ease - and none of the servants will talk to you about him. You’ve been here over a week and still haven’t seen him, not even for a moment. Not even a glimpse.

Maybe you’ll never meet him. That’d be nice.

You doubt you’ll get so lucky.

The rest of the night passes by slowly, oozing along like syrup. You’re more than happy to sit in relative silence and enjoy the peace while it lasts. After all, this kind of freedom will be a rare thing, soon. Your eyes start to grow heavy, but you have no desire to head back inside. Not yet.

When it’s long past midnight, the sound of a snapping branch behind you startles you to your feet. Your knife is gone, taken by the guards, but you reach for it all the same, cursing when you come up empty . But there’s nothing when you turn - nothing dangerous, at least. Just a squirrel, scurrying up a tree.

Just as you��re about to return to your seat, a man comes stumbling out of the woods, scaring you half to death. He halts in his tracks as he sees you, eyes widening as he looks at you. He must not have expected anyone to be out this late at night, and you can’t blame him. It is absurdly late. And yet, here you are, and there’s nothing stopping you from taking in every inch of his clearly guilty appearance.

The first thing you see, because it would be impossible to miss, is the blood. It’s all over him, splattered across his face and tattered clothes, staining his hands. His silky white hair curls around his pointed ears, dirtied with dirt and leaves. His dark eyes that you can’t quite make out the color of lock onto your every move.

He’s handsome. And, from the look of things, he’s probably going to kill you.

You aren’t quite sure whether or not you want him to, considering everything. You wouldn’t have to go through with the sham of a marriage if you’re dead. Then again… are you really ready to let go?

For a moment, neither of you move. Your heart is thrumming under your ribs, and your feet are frozen where you stand. His fear turns into something else - puzzlement. His head tilts ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he takes a step back. You don’t move, because what could you do? Chase him? You’re not that much of a fool.

He chances another step away, and when you still don’t react, a third. And just like that, the man vanishes into the night, and you’re left alive and unscathed, staring out into the darkness of the woods he’d come from.

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed he hadn’t killed you, or at least tried. It would have been exciting, at least.

After a few more minutes of nothing but silence, you turn on your heel and head back inside. The next time you see him is three weeks later, and until then, there’s not a moment he’s not in your thoughts.

As the days pass, you soon come to realize that the worst thing about this place is the boredom. It should be a thousand other things - the pinching clothes, the ache of your old life that never stops throbbing in your chest, the soon-to-be husband you haven’t even seen - but it isn’t. It’s the never-ending, constant boredom.

Gods, is it ever boring. You read every decent book in the library. You walk around the gardens at least five times a day, looking for something new. You linger around the courtyards, hoping for a bit of gossip. And every day, it’s all the same, and there’s nothing. And every day, you think of the strange man in the woods and wonder who or what he possibly could have killed. You’d checked the woods the next morning but came up completely empty.

As the wedding approaches, the air around the castle grows thick and tense. Arguments ring out from the halls about this or that - flowers, invitations, food. You’re shoved into at least twenty different potential outfits to see how they look, pinched and prodded. Servants scrub your skin raw despite your protests, even though it’s still a week away.

The queen is almost as rare a sight as her son is, though you do catch her slipping through the main hall once. She hasn’t spoken to you since that first day. Perhaps isolation runs in the family.

Which is why it’s so surprising when, three nights before the wedding, you hear her voice coming from a passage down the hall. It’s late. You should be sleeping, but your thoughts have kept you awake, and you’re roaming the halls like an aimless ghost. Your feet stall when you hear the echoing of words - something shouted not far from you.

From the sound of it, she’s in the east wing, an off-limit portion of the castle you’d been told was dangerous and in dire need of repair. You’d only listened at the time because no one else went in there, not even the servants. But now…

You chance edging in a little closer, keeping your steps quiet and your body in shadow. When you manage to sneak a look, Queen Erelin is standing in the midst of floors so clean that they shine, shouting at one of the closed doors.

“Every time I do anything for you, you fight with me,” she snarls, pacing up and down the hall. “I am doing what is best for you! Making you better! Why can’t you understand that?”

When no answer comes, she stalls in front of the door, lets out a long, heavy sigh, then throws her hands into the air and mutters something final under her breath. She leaves without so much as a glance toward your hiding spot. Your breath comes out in a whoosh of relief, tension flooding out of your shoulders.

When the fear is finally gone, curiosity takes its place. The east wing is silent and open, practically begging you to take a look, and you’re not in a place to resist. When you move closer, you can see warm light flooding out from underneath a door - the one she’d been shouting at. It’s not difficult to guess who must be in there, considering the facts. Would he answer, if you knocked? Would he talk to you?

A long moment passes in silence as flickers of movement spill their way under the door. Well, if you’re going to spend your life with him, you might as well find out what he’s like in advance. But just as you’re about to take a step forward, something stops you - a sensation you don’t recognize. The feeling trickles down your neck, plants itself deep into your chest as if it’d sunk straight through your skin - icy and dark and making you shudder as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.

After one final look toward the hall, you head to bed. The feeling fades. And, for the next few days, every time you look at the east wing, it’s shut tight.

Part of you is glad for it.

Despite your best efforts, the wedding rolls closer and closer, and as a horrible result, you get hardly any time to yourself. You’re escorted around, forced into fittings and rehearsals and who knows what else. The prince still never shows, but the queen is absolutely everywhere. She floats from room to room, dark circles under her eyes as she approves or denies things entry. She glances at you when she notices you, then shakes her head.

“I’d be the happiest woman in the world if I never had to plan a wedding again,” she says.

You resist the urge to point out that she was the one who’d wanted this.

On the day of, you’re ripped out of bed at a miserable hour, scrubbed clean, slathered in creams and fragrances, forced into yet another torturous outfit, and shoved out into the halls. People filter around you, carrying flowers and pastries and various trinkets. You stand there feeling like you can’t breathe until an arm loops around yours and starts pulling you through the crowd.

“Come,” the queen says. You don’t argue with her. She’s looking much better than before, well-rested and her cheeks rosy, porcelain skin glowing in the light. Her dress, light-blue, weightlessly flutters around her. “Given these last few weeks,” she starts, her eyes fixed in front of her. “Well. You must be curious about your husband-to-be.”

You are curious, yes. But you keep your lips shut tight.

She shoots you a piercing look. “I expect you to be polite,” she says. “He is your prince, after all. And one day, your king.”

Only then do you realize she’s leading you straight into the east wing - but not to the door she’d shouted at before. Further down the hall, into a giant room filled with books and servants and a tailor, fussing over some clothes. A man stands in the corner, and when he turns to look at you, you stop dead in your tracks.

It’s him. The one you’d seen that night, covered in blood. His eyes widen when he sees you, and all you can do is stare at him like a fool. You don't know how you hadn’t put that together - the mysterious prince, never showing his face, and the stranger in the woods, covered in blood. But then…

The way you’d seen him then is the complete opposite of everything he is now. The opposite of everything in this place, every spotless, perfect little thing that makes you feel so wrong being here. He’d been dirty, clothes simple and torn, hair mussed and covered in leaves. Here, he’s clean, dressed in extravagant clothes, so pristine and put together that not an inch of him looks out of place.

Of course you hadn’t considered it. Just like you, he hadn’t seemed like he belonged here. But you were wrong. He fits in the same as everyone else.

His eyes, as it turns out, are a dark, gleaming red.

“Astarion,” the queen says, letting go of your arm and stepping away. “I trust you remember your manners?”

His gaze doesn’t leave your face, even for a moment. “But of course,” he says, his tone sultry and smooth. He steps closer, taking your hand in his, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he presses a kiss to the skin. Your stomach flutters at the action even though you should know better.

His touch is ice-cold.

In his eyes, you see exactly what you are: a threat. Maybe he’ll kill you after all. Then again - he can’t. They need you alive. That’s why they’re doing all of this in the first place.

“Prince Astarion,” you greet. That touch has put some danger into you, a spark that won’t settle in your veins. You can’t help yourself, can’t hold your tongue. “It’s nice to see you again,” you find yourself saying. “I hope you’ve recovered from the incident in the gardens?”

For the barest moment, his eyes narrow. But just as quickly as his distaste is there, it’s gone, tucked under a pasted-on smile. “Why yes, I have,” he says, tilting his head. “Healthy and clean as ever.” He takes another step toward you, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he leans in close, so near that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

“Not another word,” he murmurs, his voice dark and low. He smells clean and herbal - you catch notes of bergamot and rosemary, enticing and dizzying. A light hint of something else: wine, perhaps. He’s stepped away before you can fully place it.

“I didn’t realize you’d met,” the queen says, her eyes flickering between you and Astarion.

“It was rather brief,” he answers.

She looks like she’s about to ask something else, but a loud crash from the main hall distracts her. “Shit,” she curses, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’d better go see what that was.” Then she turns her gaze to you, nodding for you to join her. “Come along, now. It’ll be starting soon.”

You look back at Astarion. “Well, then. Goodbye, Your Majesty,” you tell him. “I suppose I’ll see you soon.”

The corner of his mouth flicks into a smile. “That you will,” he replies.

Everything else turns into a blur.

You’re rushed from place to place, forced to recite the stupid vows over and over again until they’re convinced you’ve got them down, preened over and prodded until you’re raw. Your feet start to ache along with your head, and all you can think about is wanting to be home and… well, as much as you hate to admit it, you think about Astarion. He might as well be a plague for how much he’s infected your thoughts.

You think of him, covered in blood, then spotlessly clean. You think of his voice, low in your ear, and his touch, and the smell of him that still lingers somewhere on your skin. Had he planned this, somehow? A ruse to get into your head? No. You’re being ridiculous. He hadn’t known you were the one who’d seen him - of course he hadn’t planned it.

If only it had been anyone else.

“Quick!” someone says. “It’s starting!”

Your heart drops straight down to your stomach as the drone of an organ hits the air. Nearby hands scrabble around for various items, clawing like animals. A stranger grabs your arm and drags you around like a doll, throwing instructions at you.

And just like that, you find yourself in front of the prince again.

This time, instead of a dozen people or so, there are hundreds of people in the room. You needn’t have worried about being here with him. Nothing has ever felt less intimate.

Your vows are rehearsed and devoid of any emotion, even though you really are trying. His are more convincing, perhaps, but they’re coached all the same. Still, when he takes your hand and slides on the ring, your stomach flutters. You slide his ring on with shaking fingers and just like that - you’re married.

“You may kiss,” the priest says, and your soul instantly exits your body. Gods, this can’t be real. None of this.

But it is. Astarion leans in, his hand settling on your cheek, and kisses you.

It’s clearly meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but his lips are soft, and he smells so very nice, and the chill of his touch on your cheek is both soothing and strangely intoxicating. It’s as instinctive as breathing when the kiss deepens, when you find your fingers fisted into his shirt and his hand curls a little tighter around your jaw.

That is to say, the kiss is neither quick nor chaste, and when you pull away, there’s no small amount of cheering from the crowd. You want to melt into the floor.

When you finally muster up the ability to look at him again, Astarion tilts his head and raises his brows - a question you don’t at all want to decipher. You simply shake your head in response.

He loops his arm through yours, takes you down into the crowds, and escorts you through the room, effortlessly witty, devilishly charming. You don’t know how he does it. When people start talking to you, you can hardly get the words out of your mouth. You’re still half in shock, and Astarion’s presence isn’t helping.

The smell of him you couldn’t place earlier reveals itself to be brandy.

How incredibly pretentious.

After what seems like hours of forced conversation, Astarion leads you over to the tables of food and drink, placing a glass of wine in your hand that you gratefully start to gulp down.

He sips at his wine, pasting on a smile when people wave at him, then turns his gaze to you. “You know, darling,” he murmurs, quirking a brow, “it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort.”

You grip your wine tighter, shooting him a scowl. “I am making an effort,” you hiss.

He gives you another one of his false smiles. “As passionate as that kiss was, I’m afraid that doesn’t count.”

Shutting your eyes, you take in a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. Not all of us are good at this like you are. Talking to people.”

“Well, my sweet,” he replies tightly, and for the first time, you can hear frustration lining his words. “I appreciate the compliment, but we still need to convince everyone here that we are madly in love. And that takes more than a kiss.” He takes the glass from your hands - much to your dismay - and places it on a servant’s tray, interlocking his arm with yours again. “So try a bit harder, won’t you?”

Gods, you can’t stand him.

When you go back to speaking, you try your best to be charismatic - but only because you can feel Erelin’s eyes on you, and you don’t dare upset her. Not that your best efforts make you succeed, unfortunately. Astarion has to swoop in several times to save you from the awkward turn of things.

When you finally get another moment to breathe, he guides you to a silent corner, puts an arm around you, and leans in close. “For the love of the gods,” he says. “You’re driving us both into the dirt with your horrid conversational skills.” He inhales deeply and sighs, collecting himself for a moment. “How about this - I will take on the heavier conversations, and you can just… pay compliments.”

“Pay compliments?” you ask incredulously, taking care not to be too loud. “How in the hells am I supposed to do that? I don’t know any of these people!”

“Oh, it’s easy,” he says, waving his free hand dismissively. “Tell the women you like the dress they’re wearing, or their necklace, or… I don’t know - their perfume. They’ll go on about it for ages, and you won’t have to do anything but smile and nod.”

This sounds much too easy to be true. “You’re sure that it’ll work?”

“Trust me,” he replies. “The more we keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, the better off we’ll be.”

Anger flares in your chest at his words, red-hot. “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?” you ask.

“That I am,” he says, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you noticed.”

Anywhere else, you’d have elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. Unfortunately, you’re in front of hundreds of people, and it would lead to a large number of very awkward conversations. So, instead, you paste on a smile and think of home.

You aren’t in a palace. You’re in your tavern, talking to customers. This is easy, and you definitely don’t hate it. At all.

When the next couple approaches you, Astarion takes the lead, and you smile wordlessly and nod. When a null in the conversation arrives, you tell the woman you like her dress. Which, luckily, you do. It’s masterfully made, gold embroidery along a shimmering turquoise fabric.

Her face lights up. “Isn’t it just gorgeous?” she asks. “I searched for days when I heard about the wedding. Only the best for me, I always say. Anyway, there was this girl who ran a shop I went to - Martha, her name was - and she told me she had just the thing. And I tried it on, and it was perfect, only, well… it didn’t quite fit. But I knew I’d never want anything else now that I’d seen it, and I thought to myself, oh gods, I can’t turn up like this to the wedding! So I told my mum about it, and she said, ‘Don’t you worry! I’ll take care of it!’ And then, when I went to get it, clumsy me, I spilled half a glass of wine on it! I was just thinking it was lost forever when my neighbor came, and…”

And… what her neighbor did, you’ll never know. It’s completely lost to you, because when you look over to Astarion, he looks ridiculously smug. You can practically hear his voice in your head, saying ‘I told you so.’ You resist the urge to elbow him once again and turn your attention back to the girl, who is just now finishing her story.

“...and then, we arrived here, and saw you! And the wedding! My gods, what a sight. You two really do suit each other, you know. But Thom and I really should be going. There’s a lot of people for you to meet, and we wouldn’t want to keep you from tonight, if you know what I mean.”

She winks at you, and your cheeks go as hot as Avernus.

“Well,” Astarion says quickly, “thank you both for coming!”

“Oh, of course,” she replies. “Enjoy yourselves, you two!” She gives a sly grin and then she’s off, leaving you feeling like you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

Tonight. How could you forget?

It isn’t that you hadn’t thought about the fact that sex would be expected of you - it’s just that… well, it’d seemed so far away before. Back when you’d been thinking about it, you hadn’t known who it would be with, and it had all seemed like it was going to be a dream. Something that would never actually happen.

But here you are.

You can’t say Astarion isn’t handsome, because he very much is. You can’t say you aren’t terribly attracted to him, because, infuriatingly, you are - no matter how much you hate the fact. But whether or not you’re comfortable with him touching you that way is a completely different matter, and, honestly? You have absolutely no clue how you’re going to tell him that you’ve never been with anyone. Or how he’ll handle it.

Gods help you.

“You see?” Astarion tells you, slowly walking you over to the next group. “I told you it would work. Just keep that up, and all of this will soon be over.”

And over it soon is, much quicker than you’d like. You’d stay out chatting all night if you could avoid what comes next, but there aren’t many others to greet, and eventually there’s no one left to talk to. There’s hardly any food remaining either, which makes you want to cry. You’re starving. Your feet hurt. You want to crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity.

Astarion, as if he can read your mind, finally leads you out of the room and heads straight to the kitchens, releasing your arm when you arrive. “Here we are,” he says. “We wouldn’t want you going to bed hungry, now would we?”

You try not to think about the implications of that statement as you eat. You try not to think about the way he leans against the wall next to you, seemingly not interested in the food. In fact, you try not to think about anything at all.

It doesn’t work.

The food is a welcome distraction, at least. That’s one good thing about this place. The gardens are nice, the beds are soft, and the food is delicious. You never have to go to sleep without eating, which is a new feeling. You just wish it didn’t all come with a cost.

When you’re finished up, Astarion raises a brow at you and straightens up. “Well,” he says, “we’d better go find my mother.”

Erelin looks exhausted after the celebrations. She doesn’t bother with any formalities, just nods for you to follow.

“I’ll show you to your new room,” she sighs. “Don’t forget - tomorrow, the two of you are off for the honeymoon. I’m trusting you both to keep up appearances, yes?” She gives you a pointed look.

“Right,” you reply.

She sighs again. “This way.”

She leads you back into the east wing, this time to a large room around the corner - one you haven’t seen before. It’s gigantic. You’d thought your bed was huge when you arrived, but this? It practically takes up half the room. Bookshelves line the walls, the windows glisten in the moonlight, and there’s a large vanity in the corner, presumably for you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Erelin says, leaning against the doorway. “Just remember: you’ve done a great service for this kingdom.”

The door closes, and for the first time today, you and Astarion are completely alone. There are no servants, no guards posted along the walls, no crowds of adoring citizens. Just you, and him. And you have no idea what comes next.

In truth, all you want to do is to jump into the huge, fluffy-looking bed and sleep. But, of course, it isn’t that simple. For one, your clothes are intricately laced. There’s a privacy curtain in the corner, but you can’t remove the lacing by yourself. Then there’s the matter of what’s expected of you. What you’re dreading. And that’ll have to come before sleep, too.

Astarion isn’t exactly paying attention to you, though. He’s mulling around the room, examining the books, looking over the vanity. You’re relieved, but you know it won’t last. And, honestly? If it comes down to it, you’d rather just get it over with.

“Would you mind giving me a hand with this?” you ask.

He finally looks at you, gaze focusing on the lacing you’re helplessly trying to undo. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says.

By the hells, he’s irritating. Still, he comes over to help you without complaint, deftly pulling apart the lacing until the ribbons finally come free. You’re expecting him to go further - to start undressing you, or touching you, or… anything, but he just steps away.

“There you are,” he says.

Your throat goes thick. “I… Thank you,” you say softly.

He hums in response. “I’d make for a poor husband if I didn’t help undress you, wouldn’t I?”

The word husband sends electricity through your veins. He really is your husband, isn’t he? It feels incredibly strange.

When you turn to scowl at him, Astarion is already gone, returned to his place by the books. You suck in a deep breath to compose yourself, then grab the change of clothes they’ve left for you and slip into it, folding up your old outfit as neatly as you can.

As soon as you take a seat on the bed, your heart starts beating thickly against your ribs. It’s an unsteady pattern, the thump of it. It gets faster when Astarion moves, then goes quiet when he simply grabs his sleep clothes and changes behind the curtain. It drums hard and rough when he emerges, but settles down when he crosses over to his side of the bed and blows out the candle.

The room goes pitch dark.

“You’d better get your rest while you can,” he tells you. “I’m sure they’ll wake us at a horrendous hour tomorrow.”

You stay motionless in the dark for a moment or two before what he’s saying hits you. As if his words have broken a dam inside you, all the tension floods out of your body. You climb into the sheets, weightless in sheer relief, and find the bed incredibly soft. You can hear him tucking himself into the space near you, shifting around to get comfortable, and it’s strangely intimate. Still, with the size of the bed, there’s not much danger of accidentally kicking him in the night.

The room is peaceful and the crickets chirp outside, and it doesn’t take long before your eyelids are closing and the pull of sleep comes. Just as you’re drifting off, you realize one thing:

You’d forgotten to ask him about the blood.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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thisfanisgonesorry · 9 months

Text

ironhead — hobie brown

i got possessed and had an epiphany because to me this just makes SO MUCH sense. also i HATE writing accents fuck off. kinda mid i lowkey struggled w the dialogue idc the main point is that brother ties you up. i promise ill write him better if i write him again im just. THOUGHTS THOUGHTS THOUGHTS.

🕷

tags: smut, bondage, shibari, light dom/sub, i dont think hed like power dynamics, however; mutual light teasing (not a huge amount of dialogue, bros mouth is busy). tit play (i dont usually write this one, oh god), aftercare duh, lots of kisses cos holy fucking shit his lips look so nice SJAJAJA

(my reqs are open pleasepleasepleaseplease, ill write most of the guys from spv, pleasepleaseplease)

guys my beta reader died while reading this.. i hope its okay

🕷

“How does tha’ feel? Not dodgy?” He asked, tugging on the webbing. I was sitting on the bed, leaning against a pile of pillows as he made sure the web-ropes were secure and done up properly.

“Good.” I spoke, and he gestured for him to keep talking so he could make sure everything was going to go smoothly. “Uh, not too tight but not too loose. It’s fine, I think. Feels sticky.”

"Want me to walk you through this?” He asked, his hands resting on my knees. “This is a spiral futomomo, can y’move y’legs?”

“No.” I spoke, trying to move my legs, only able to shut my thighs together.

“This is just a basic star harness, usually don’t have the arms tied up. This one does ‘cause y’can’t keep your ‘ands to y’self.” He speaks briefly, his main goal is to get the point across to keep this all safe, and his secondary goal is to push my buttons as frequently as he can. He slapped the side of my tit, watching it bounce slightly. I took a sharp inhale at the unexpected feeling, and he used it as his chance to pinch my nipple harshly. “Then there’s a dragonfly sleeve to make sure y’stay still. Can you move?”

“No..”

“Good.” He spoke with another harsh tug and another slap, his eyes were glazed slightly as he admired the slight red hand print forming on the squishy flesh, forming very quickly — faster than he anticipated, the skin was just so delicate.

He repositioned us slightly, kneeling closer to me and trying to pull me to sit on his lap despite my efforts in keeping my legs shut.

“Darlin’, show me that pretty li’l cunt.”

I reluctantly spread my legs and he pulled me to sit on his thighs, nuzzling into my neck and pressing soft kisses into the skin.

“Can I get a snog?” I teased slightly.

“Don’t be cheeky.” He said firmly, ignoring me completely and lowering himself to my chest; making keen eye contact with me as he pressed a kiss on the reddening hand print, wrapping his plump lips softly around the areola.

He nipped at the skin slightly as his hand reached up to the other. He groped it for a moment, before pinching the nipple in his hand. There wasn’t an abundance of volume besides the wet sounds his mouth was making, though he noticed the way I writhed in his touch, groaning silently and breathing heavily.

His other hand dipped to between my thighs, feeling the wetness before rubbing his fingers in circles around the clit.

“That’s it.” He praised slightly, whispering into my flesh. “Good girl.”

I began to grind down onto his hand, feeling him enjoy his time with my tits. I sighed, throwing my head back and struggling against the sticky ropes.

“Baby..”

“Stop squirming.” He warned.

I knew I had no hope of getting out of his webs, and if I did, there’d probably be a consequence to fucking up what he wanted to do but god, he looked so delectable. So touchable. I helplessly tried to grind myself on his fingers, trying to distract myself from the way my arms were tied to me.

“C’mon, ask nicely. I know y’want more.”

“Pretty please? Need more.” I asked sweetly.

His own need began taking over him and it was blatantly obvious; I could feel his rock hard dick pressing against my thigh through his pants.

“Y’sound so nice like that.”

He slipped his fingers inside me. groaning and bucking his hips as he felt the soft, wet walls. His thumb slowly rubbed my clit as his index and middle worked in a ‘come hither’ motion. He worked me slowly, planning to drag this out as long as possible for his own enjoyment. His movements were meticulous, extremely preplanned, like he’d been sitting on this fantasy for a long time, but that strategic energy didn’t last long.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, love.” He groaned, trying to pronounce his words clearly despite his lust filled slur. He could feel the slight clench around his fingers, and the rest of his body got greedy with want.

“Keep doin’ that, right there, Hobes.”

He pressed his tongue flat against the nipple, opening his mouth enough to look erotic; He sat like there for a moment, catching my attention to watch him, a low groan crawling its way out of my throat. He had a smug grin as he moved to bite and suck on the flesh, his other hand no longer methodical, all it portrayed was an incessant need.

I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

Feeling the tight, squishy walls of my insides sent him into a desire filled stupor, doing nothing but greedily grabbing what he could as he worked me closer to orgasm. The feeling of his talented hands moving against my nerves was doing wonders, and it was doing those wonders quite fast.

He began grinding his hard dick against my thigh. “Y’so..” He groaned. “Bloody hell, you’re wretched.” He tried to joke.

“Coming from you.” I bit back, throwing my head back again as he kept fucking his fingers into me and torturing my tits.

“Wanted.. Had it all planned out. You’ve fucked it, yeah? So fuckin’ hot. Can’t resist.”

“Not my fault you got worked up so fast.”

“Don’t.” He grunted with a harsh bite. “You’re so tight, love, need to bury my cock in you. Need..” He groaned.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna cum.”

“Need’a feel y’cum around my fingers. On my prick. Let me feel that tight cunt, baby. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He rambled, pressing soft kisses on the flesh, watching the flowering bruises form.

He could sense the impending orgasm as my breathing got heavy and rapid, grinding against his hand messily and squirming at the restraints.

“Shit..”

“You’re so close.” He taunted. “Let me feel it.”

My mouth opened and closed like I was gasping for air, his mouth trailed from my tits, up to my collarbone, neck, jaw and eventually landed intoxicatingly sweetly on my mouth.

“Hobes.” I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it with a welcoming groan.

“Y’re so pretty like this ‘n we still ‘ave all night.” He spoke, pulling my body closer to his as he moved his mouth to the other breast, planning to mark it up too.

“Mhm. I’m gonna—”

“Please.”

That was it. I couldn’t survive much longer, I tried to tug on the ropes but to no avail as I began clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Hobie, Hobie..” I moaned.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He moaned back in an attempt to mock me.

I slumped down, resting my head on his shoulder as I moaned loudly, letting myself unwind and cum all over his fingers. I kept struggling against the ropes and he grabbed my wrists, trying to hold it in place as he groaned at the feeling of my spasming cunt. He kept trying to fuck into me as I came down from the high.

I gasped and panted for air, leaning against him and he pulled his drenched fingers out, sticking them in his beautiful mouth before whispering. “Keep strugglin’ and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke, not as a warning but as a statement.

“Wanna touch you.”

“That’s why the ropes are there, love.” He breathed heavily, grinding his aching cock against the wetness, ruining his jeans slightly. “God.” He grunted. “You’re so sexy.”

“Go on.” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, leaning forward to kiss him.

— When he says ‘all night’, he really means it.

🕷

BONUS ROUND:

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darlin'.” He spoke as he quickly cut the webbing around my arms, before struggling to take off the harness without moving me around too much, laying me down on the soft pillows.

“Rope burn.” I mumbled tiredly, rubbing my wrists the second they were free.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t squirm so much.”

I let out a hum as an indirect response to let him know I acknowledge it. He removed the harness and began kissing my wrists slightly, looking up at me with soft eyes. He placed quick kisses on my neck where the rope dug into the skin as he lazily sliced open the fotomomo knots.

The second that one of my legs were free, he gently grabbed my calf and pulled the leg out so it laid straight

“Move around, stretch ‘em out.” He directed.

I moved my legs around, trying to get the stiffness out as he held my calf, pressing soft kisses into the skin before quickly untying the other and doing the same.

“Keep stretchin’ it, good girl.”

Once both legs were stretched out and he was satisfied with the amount of kisses littered over them, he raised back to my body, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Can you get me a shirt?” I asked weakly with a grin.

He sucked his teeth as he got up, looking for one of his shirts that I could put one on and comfortably sleep in.

“Next time, I’m tying a vibrator between your legs.” He joked as he dug through the wardrobe.

✰ pt 2 >> LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

*wrote this for @vecnuthy's birthday, so here you go babe! i baked you a word cake 🥰🎂* *ao3 link here*

Nobody gets cool shit on their birthday after the age of sixteen - Steve stands by this statement firmly. That year, he got his permit. And by yuppie parent default-mode, he also received his first car.

He almost, almost had a quarter-life crisis on his twenty-fifth birthday. Steve was seconds away from buying a motorcycle. Robin was very dramatic about this decision, kept threatening to order his gravestone if he followed through on an impulse purchase.

This, however, would’ve nullified his Adults Get Lame Birthday Gifts theory entirely. So Steve apologized to the salesperson, and tucked his credit card back into his wallet. Robin canceled the order on his gravestone as well, thank god.

Gifts have continued to be lackluster every year since then. And his 30th birthday is no exception to this rule.

A gift card from his parents. A pair of athletic socks from Dustin. And a t-shirt from Robin. Essentially, the starter pack of Welcome to Adulthood.

Except for one minor detail:

The shirt from Robin is exceptionally soft. Bamboo fibers or something, he wasn’t really listening to her description. Even the color is soft. Muted red, almost pink. Everything about it is soft. Airy.

Touchable.

Okay - that’s not an observation Steve makes upon receiving it. But it’s one that Eddie Munson will never let him forget.

The first time it happens is a week after Steve’s birthday. The two of them hit up a bar on the outskirts of town. A place Eddie frequents a lot, occasionally dragging Steve along as his Token 9 to 5 Friend.

“Welcome to the Dirty Thirty Club, man!” Eddie crows, already diving into Steve’s atmosphere for a hug.

“Thanks! Good to see you, Munson.” Steve chokes out, returning the massive hug with a single pat on Eddie's back.

The guy always gives the most suffocating hugs, fucking cages Steve into his arms and steals the breath of out his lungs with one squeeze. Steve has to inhale through his nose, smells the soapy steam rolling off Eddie’s skin.

Shower. Eddie just showered before meeting him here. It’s so fucking clear by the way he feels damp, smells clean.

Steve hates that he notices that. Wishes he didn’t care about Eddie’s hygiene schedule. But the scent of shower gel is addictive, breathing it in fast. Big gulps of fresh air. Lungs extending like they can capture Eddie's atmosphere and keep it there.

Okay, seriously. Steve thought his Eddie Munson Crush had been buried with the rest of his trauma back in 1993.

“Dude. This shirt is so soft, holy shit.” Eddie is rubbing his hand all over the back of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pushing into the fabric.

“Uh yeah. Sure is.”

Eddie must’ve blazed up back at his place, it’s the only reasonable explanation as to why they’re hugging for this long. Gotta be some strong shit too - strong enough to make him sound completely blissed out over a damn shirt.

He’s is humming now, both hands petting Steve’s shoulders, one on each side. Pinching the material, twisting it till it curls around his index finger.

“Gotta get me one of these bad boys.” Eddie chuckles, turns it into a playful growling sound. “Could touch this all day.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Steve does an awkward wiggle out of the embrace. He looks down at his shoes, cheeks growing warmer as he continues to take Eddie’s words entirely out of context.

Look, the sensible part of his brain knows that Eddie is talking about the shirt. That’s it. But the insufferably needy and more prominent part of his brain wants Eddie to be talking about himself in general.

That he could touch Steve all day long - shirt or no shirt.

Right. Steve needs a splash of water on his face. Could use a splash of water on his goddamn imagination too. Dilute the delusion for christ’s sake.

It happens again about four months later. Lucas invites the whole crew over to throw a surprise party for Max’s promotion at work.

Of course, Eddie is running late - he didn’t fail senior year twice solely from his shitty GPA. But showing up late to a surprise party? That’s a new level of risky. Not everything has to be a thrill-worthy adventure. Ugh.

“Max should be getting off work right about now.” Lucas explains, peering around the living room. “So everyone should head to your designated hiding spots.”

Nobody budges, just carrying on with their conversation.

“Alright, asshats - you heard Sinclair!” Steve snaps at each of them, glares for good measure. “Find a hiding spot or get the fuck out.” He gives a quick nod to Lucas, who still looks severely stressed, eyes ready to bust out of his skull any minute.

The coach-esque threat does the job. Everyone, ducks into place, voices descending into whispers. Whispers descending into shushes as the minutes draw closer to Max’s arrival. Steve is folded up behind the couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

There’s a small creak coming from the front door. A few people yell 'surprise.' Steve peaks to the side to see Lucas shaking his head at them.

“No, nobody move.” He instructs, voice caught between a yell and whisper. “I was just letting Eddie inside.”

Instinct takes over. Steve twists around the corner of the couch, needing to see for himself that Eddie is here. That he really came.

Clearly, he didn’t move fast enough. Although he could’ve sworn he moved so embarrassingly fast that the vertebras in his back sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies (post-milk).

But no one is there. No Eddie. No Lucas. No one.

“What the-” Something grabs the back of Steve’s shirt, pulling at his collar. A few people start aggressively shushing him.

“Chill out, Stevie.” Eddie is right there, meeting Steve’s face with a lopsided smirk. He’s close, way too close. Still holding the collar of Steve’s shirt with one hand, stretching it out. Keeping them close.

“Just trying to check the tag,” He releases Steve just an inch or so. His voice is so hushed, the quietest Steve has ever fucking heard it. “Wanted to see where I might be able to purchase such a godly article of clothing.”

“Ever heard of a thing called boundaries?” Steve hisses, swatting a strand of Eddie’s hair out of his face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

They haven’t talked much since that night, barely any interaction for four months. But watching Eddie lean in, angling his head lower to study the tag on Steve’s shirt, hot breath on his neck…

It resets the clock. Flips the hourglass on Steve’s feelings for him.

He’s infatuated all over again, and all it took was Eddie invading his personal space. Just like he always does.

“You’ll have to ask Robin.” Steve whispers. Tries not to flinch when Eddie smooths Steve’s shirt collar back into place. “She’s the one that bought it for me.”

“Damn. Buckley has good taste.”

“Sure does.”

No distance is created. Neither of them move away. Eddie’s eyes continue to sketch over every stitch in Steve’s shirt, every hemline. He seems hyper fixated on it, too fixated to notice Steve’s pink-ish cheeks, thank god.

If it weren’t for the shirt, Steve would assume Eddie is checking him out, looking him up and down with a heavy gaze. Dark pupils, casted darker by the dim lighting.

“Can I?” Eddie raises a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He pauses, lifts an eyebrow at the end of his question.

Steve’s jaw is too tight to answer or counter back with a joke about how Eddie never asks permission before popping personal bubbles. All he can do is nod a little too eagerly.

Eddie reaches into Steve’s sleeve, rubs the material from the inside. A small grin forms on his face. He looks so pleased, purely amused. That’s enough to untangle Steve’s muscles, relaxing under Eddie’s light touch.

But that’s the other thing. He’s barely touching Steve. Every now and then, his knuckles roll over Steve’s skin. Really, that’s it, that’s all he’s doing. And god, Steve craves more.

Eventually, Eddie switches it up, pinching the material between the pads of his fingers. He scoots closer to Steve’s side to do so.

Time feels paused. Time feels rapid. It’s going nowhere and already slipping through his grasp. All Steve can think about is placing his hand underneath Eddie’s chin, bringing his lips up to his own. Kissing him till the clock stops ticking. Till the sand stops running.

“Softest shirt ever.” Eddie gives the material a slight tug. Smiles wider.

Steve gulps. “If you say so.”

“I mean, seriously - it must be made from the glow off an angel’s halo or something, cause damn.”

“You’re a trip, Munson.”

Steve has to keep telling himself that Eddie is obsessed with touching his clothes - he’s not thinking about taking them off of Steve. No matter how much he wants that to be the reality of the situation.

It’s not.

They stay like this till the doorknob clicks, turns. Steve almost forgot that he was at a party, surrounded by other people.

Immediately, all of his senses flip back into Extrovert Autopilot. Everyone jumps out, yells a combination of surprise and congratulations (because they failed to coordinate that apparently).

He stays in this zone for the rest of the party. Talkative and breezy. Charming the pants off Max’s coworkers with silly little anecdotes about her as a kid.

Steve is damn good at hosting. It’s probably in his white-collar bloodline or some shit. Still, anytime Eddie walks by, he glitches up. Temporarily out of sync.

He doesn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Eddie ducks out early, waving broadly before slipping through the front door.

Time does that weird thing again. Feels paused and rapid all at once as he watches the door shut behind Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Lucas nudges him.

“Yeah.” The gentle gesture returns time back to normal. Brings Steve back into this moment.

“Doing just fine.”

It’s all he thinks about for weeks. Anytime there’s a lull at work or a commercial break on television, Steve drifts. Pictures Eddie is in his shirt, the one he’s so obsessed with.

At first, it’s just that. Basic. Eddie standing in front of him, wearing that muted red, almost pink, shirt. Sometimes smiling, sometimes expectant. Either way, it’s always enough to make Steve’s neck feel flushed, creeping up to his cheeks.

Gradually, it evolves into something more complex. A fantasy, almost dreamlike. He imagines Eddie running his hands all over himself, his torso, his chest. The thin material of the shirt moving and shifting under his palms. His head tipping back, lips plush and red from where he’s gritting down, biting hard. Holding back sounds.

Those images get Steve in trouble. Panting on conference calls and boners at his work desk.

He’s alone in his apartment when it grows, branches off into darker urges. Desires. Steve glances down at the floor, can’t help but wonder what Eddie might look like down there, staring up at him. Wearing Steve’s clothes. Begging Steve to take them off. Rip them, ruin them.

“That fucking does it.” Steve scolds himself, scolds his dick too. He’s calling Eddie Munson right now - before he has time to overthink it.

His hand is trembling as he picks up the house phone, dials out the number he didn’t even know he had memorized. The trembling thing is kinda embarrassing, but it's still better than sticking it down his pants and jerking off while the Cooking Network plays reruns in the background.

Every ring feels drawn out. Stretching time like taffy.

Eddie picks up on the fourth taffy-length ring. “Eddie here.”

“Hey, man.” His voice comes out all strained, bone-dry.

“Shit. That really you, Harrington?”

Apparently his voice comes out unrecognizable too.

“The one and only.”

Eddie snorts loudly into the phone speaker. “Doubt that very much - seems like a common enough name.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, smartass.” Steve rubs his neck, scratching his skin. Working his way to extracting the words out of his throat. “So um… you busy tonight?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers.

“Cool. Me neither.”

There’s silence after that. Well, almost silence. Just a slight hissing sound from the phone line can be heard. Not enough sound to make things less awkward though.

Steve has no good reason to be so antsy, so wired with anxiety. They’ve been friends since metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan back in ‘86. So being outwardly weird around Eddie? It’s too damn fishy.

“Is that it?” Eddie says. “Did you just want to bond over our empty schedules?”

Of fucking course, Eddie would call Steve out on his weird bullshit. Doesn’t know subtlety if it bit him in the ass.

Bad time to think about Eddie’s ass.

“Come over.” Steve blurts out. Needs to say something before a parade of ass-centric images start back up in his mind. “I ordered way too much takeout and there's a stack of movie rentals that I need to binge to minimize those late fees, so yeah… come over.”

No response, even the background hissing from the speaker cuts out. Maybe the phone line went dead. Or maybe Eddie hung up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abruptly ended a conversation, perpetually flouncing to whatever is new and shiny. Always distracted.

“What kind of takeout?” He finally responds.

“The Greek place with the kickass tzatziki sauce.” Steve smirks, already knows the answer before Eddie can utter another word.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Eddie arrives in less than an hour, actually. Knocks on Steve’s door exactly 51 minutes after Steve gets off the phone with him. It’s slightly disturbing that Steve suddenly turns into a math whiz when he’s fawning over someone.

Someone that fawns over his clothes more than him, but who gives a shit about logistics?

“Fucking starving.” Eddie says, slamming the door behind him.

Steve smiles, motions his head toward the kitchen. “Help yourself, dude.”

The plan is so stupid. Half-baked at best: get Eddie out of his shirt (and jacket), and into Steve’s shirt instead. That’s it. That’s all Steve’s got so far.

But it’s better than nothing. So what the hell? It’s worth a shot.

He waits until Eddie has stuffed his face with a decent amount of spanakopita, fully reclining on Steve’s couch. Looks incredibly comfy, too comfy to move.

Good.

Steve grabs the strawberry sorbet from his freezer, the one Robin forced him to buy after going vegan last spring. He scoops a bowl for himself and a bowl for Eddie. Exhales the last bit of his self-respect before returning to the living room with the most boring dessert option ever.

“Here you go.” Steve says.

Eddie scrunches his nose at it. “The fuck is this?”

“Sorbet.”

“Why am I not surprised that the former rich kid prefers sorbet over ice cream?”

Steve sputters, takes the bowl back before it further offends Eddie somehow. “That’s not… I didn’t… it’s actually-”

“Deep breath, Stevie. I’m just teasing you.” Eddie yanks the bowl back, shovels a brain-freezing amount into his mouth. “Far too easy, by the way. Give me a bit of a challenge next time. Makes it more fun… for one of us, at least.”

“Fun. Sure.”

“The one of us being me.”

“Got that.”

Steve decides to take Eddie’s ‘challenge’ remark as the perfect cue to set his stupid plan into action.

Steve pretends to shift around on the couch cushion, getting situated. Does this until he ‘accidentally’ fumbles the sorbet. Spills it all over Eddie’s clothes, his distressed black shirt, his dark gray sweatpants. All of it. Makes a much bigger mess than he intended to.

Eddie jumps up. “Goddamnit, Harrington!”

“I am so sorry!” No he’s not. If anything, his apology is more smug than sincere.

“This shit is sticky as hell.”

“Really sorry, man.” Steve hands Eddie a few stray napkins, like that’s going to make a difference.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one of the most juvenile tactic that Steve has ever pulled. Truly, it tops the overused movie theater-yawn tactic.

“Here - let me get you a change of clothes.” Steve offers, already heading to his bedroom. He’s walking and talking and fucking fidgeting. Suddenly paranoid that Eddie can see right through him, see all his desperation on display. Splattered everywhere like strawberry sorbet.

He turns back around for a split second. “I’ll throw those in the wash. Have them dry and ready to wear again by the time you head out.”

“Oh…” Eddie keeps patting down his clothes with a sopping napkin, barely listening. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His acting performance is fucking dismal. Over the top. Porno-level obvious. Must be karma for all of those times he gave Robin and Eddie shit about being in an improv club. Makes a mental note to never mock their nerdy hobbies for the rest of his life.

“Well, it must be my lucky night.” Eddie calls out from the bathroom door, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume.

“What makes you say that?”

“Bestowing the holy grail of shirts upon me? Allowing me even one hour in downy-soft paradise?” Eddie is using that tone, the one that’s boozy and savory. Borderline mean. Equally hot and annoying. “Possibly the greatest of olive branches you could’ve offered up.”

“Christ, you’re dramatic.” Which is so hypocritical after the stunt he just pulled.

The bathroom door swings open and nothing could’ve prepared Steve for how good Eddie looks in his clothes. The shirt is snug through the sleeves, loose through his chest. Makes Steve realize how differently built they are. The waistband on the athletic shorts is sitting low on his hips, maybe a size too big. If they were any bigger, they’d slip right off. Landing all tousled around his bare feet…

Okay, Steve has got to snap the fuck out of it. He rubs aggressively at his eyes. Needs soap or military-strength detergent to fucking cleanse whatever is going on with him lately.

“We could watch something.” Steve says, even though that’s exactly what he’s already doing.

Watching.

Eddie shrugs. Leans against the wall. “We could.”

“Or… I don’t know.” Steve can’t rip his gaze away from Eddie’s arms. His pale skin looks even lighter against the reddish tones. The waves and curls of black ink look even darker. Just a splash of color has turned him into a landscape of extremes.

“You don’t?”

“Um…” Steve flops, flounders. Scrambling for an idea. A coherent thought. Anything. “Cards. We could play cards.”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkles, then quickly straightens back out. Nodding politely. “Sure, we can do that. If that’s what you want to do.”

Steve mumbles something about grabbing a card deck from the storage closet, although he’s pretty sure it’s unintelligible. Makes a quick escape, jogs at the weirdest tempo known to mankind.

Flirting with a longtime friend is throwing him for a loop. Many loops actually. Theme park amount of loops. All of his usual ease and charm are being denied access. Not tall enough to ride this ride.

The closet is packed with junk, so finding a deck of cards is obnoxiously difficult. He’s tossing coats into piles and shoving shoes into corners. Between his nerves and his determination, Steve is working up a goddamn sweat.

“Need a hand in here?” Eddie’s voice startles him. Steve jolts backwards, straight into a shelf of puzzles. Tons of pieces go flying, some landing in Steve’s hair. Redecorating the fucking closet with tiny bits of colored cardboard.

Fantastic.

Eddie backs away, arms crossing into his chest. “Jesus, man. You’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Steve says. Shakes the puzzle pieces out of his hair.

“Is it the shirt?” The question sounds genuine. No jokes, no sarcasm. “Does it look that bad on me?”

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t know how to respond. The shirt looks amazing, that’s not the problem at all. It’s just… “Um, actually-”

“Look, I know I’m not a pastel heartthrob.” Eddie gestures directly to Steve before waving his arms around. He starts pacing in the tiny closet, just ranting away. “And let’s fucking face it. I’m not getting any younger, so I doubt I can pull off this slim-cut style the way I used to… but come on. It can’t be that repulsive, right?”

“Eddie.” Steve frowns.

“Shit, that bad?” Eddie smacks a hand to the top of his hand. Grabs a fistful of his hair and looks down at the shirt, still rambling. “We’re using first names now? What’s next? Gonna bust out my full legal name? My birth certificate? Then we’ll really mean business.”

Okay, yikes. And Steve thought he was the stressed one. This is going south very, very fast. He needs to curb the self-destruction that’s happening in front of him. Just… reach out.

“Hey.” And Steve does. Literally. He places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, sucks in some courage. He waits until Eddie makes eye contact, breathes at a less neurotic speed. Then he exhales all the courage. Turns it into honesty instead. “You look… you look good.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“No, I mean it. It’s different. But in a good way.” Steve skims his nails against the fabric, drawing shapes into Eddie’s shoulder. “I like it.”

“You do?”

Steve nods. Bites down on his lip, flicks his eyes to Eddie’s mouth. “Like it on you.”

The energy between them is thick, clinging to Steve’s skin. It’s new except it’s not. Steve has felt it before. At the bar, the party, that random Thursday in 1993. He recognizes the flex and curl in his stomach as Eddie takes one step forward, then two. The feeling is familiar and strange combined. Knotted tight.

Eddie raises an eyebrow before taking another step. Like the day behind the couch. Quiet permission, one he doesn’t ask for often. Only when it means something.

Steve lets the hand on Eddie’s shoulder fall slowly. Catching the material at the bottom, tugging it forward. Prays to fucking god that’s all the permission Eddie needs.

“You were right.” Steve lets his hand drift back up, landing in the center of Eddie’s chest. Wrinkling and smoothing the fabric underneath. “It really is soft.”

Eddie’s breath hitches up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice drops lower, richer. “Could touch this all day.”

Eddie thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, drifting into the small space between them. He places both hands on Steve's cheeks and kisses him firmly. Steve presses in deeper, breathes out through his nose so that he doesn’t have to break away.

It’s so good, kissing like they’re teenagers behind the bleachers. So swept away in the heat and hunger that they’d be late for class. Showing up to study hall with blotchy skin and achy lips. They keep kissing just like that. Feeling, exploring. Lingering in all the areas that seem to make the other person hum or gasp.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers. His hands push up into Steve’s hair, combing it back, pulling in down with an edge. Hard enough to make Steve tilt his head, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah?” Steve replies. Barely a question, too lost in the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his neck.

Eddie rubs his mouth over the edge of Steve’s jaw. “You’re so…”

The sentence stops right there, never gets finished either. He nuzzles over the wet spots of skin covering Steve’s neck. Marks them all up with a gentle nip, not enough to leave bruises. Just enough to make Steve shiver.

Steve is making so many breathy noises, which should be humiliating. Pathetic for someone who’s had fucking loads of first kisses, even more makeout sessions.

But none of that really matters, his age or experience or slutty track record. Nothing counts when being kissed like this. Nothing can stop Steve from taking this moment, eating up all of the sounds and sensations.

Fuck, he wants all of it. Wants Eddie closer somehow, on top of him, beneath him, surrounding him.

He can’t stop tugging at Eddie’s shirt, well… his shirt. No doubt that it’s stretching out, close to ripping it. Keeps pulling it anyways - dragging Eddie into him till Steve’s back is pressed up against the wall.

“Come here.” Steve curls a finger under Eddie’s chin, brings his face back up to him. Not nearly done kissing him stupid, square on the lips. His mouth is warmer now, a few degrees hotter from sucking Steve’s neck. Licks into Steve’s mouth, gets him to whine at how good it feels.

The washing machine timer goes off, buzzing throughout the whole apartment. But Steve can’t let this end, he can’t.

Except for the buzzing won’t let up. Continuously interrupting all the delicious noises that Eddie makes whenever Steve bites over his bottom lip, gets it nice and puffy between his teeth.

“Should we...?” Eddie smushes his nose into Steve’s before motioning to the door.

“Yeah probably,” Steve unclaws his hand from Eddie’s waist. Kisses him once more before sliding out of reach.

As he walks down the hallway, heading into he laundry room, he hears it. Eddie’s voice, still inside the closet. Chanting the same phrase over and over again:

‘Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Holy fucking shit!’

Steve cracks a smile. Kind of hard to believe his heart is chanting the same damn phrase. So full of adrenaline, fucking crumbling under this wave of raw emotion.

Really, he never thought he’d find himself in this situation. Holding Eddie’s clean clothes in one hand, thumbing over his kiss-bitten lips with his other hand. Impatiently craving to get back to where they left off, hopefully on the couch or bed or floor this time.

“Hurry it up, will ya?” Eddie whistles behind him.

“What’s the rush?” Steve tosses the clothes into the dryer, doesn’t turn around because his self-restraint will be fucked if he does.

“My lips are getting cold.”

“That’s the best line you got?”

“For now, yeah.” Eddie says. “You sucked out all of my brain cells with your mouth. Can’t expect me to be Swayze-level smooth after something like that.”

No way he’s allowed to be so damn cute comparing himself to Patrick Swayze. As if they're even in the same league. Endearing, really.

“You can head back to the living room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve pushes a few buttons on the dryer. The timer starts, another reset on the clock.

Feelings that flip the hourglass once again.

He really fucking hopes it never runs out this time.

Eddie is perched on the floor, flipping through the channels on the tv. He's squinting at the harsh light because for some insane reason, he always insists on watching the tv in total darkness.

Even that’s cute now. Annoyingly cute.

Steve joins him on the floor, instantly slouching into Eddie’s arms because he can do that now. Completely allowed to be sweet and gross and smitten.

“Guess my theory was wrong after all.”

“Hm?” Eddie replies, still mindlessly channel-surfing.

Steve gives Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek (because he can do that now too), and looks at the shirt. Muted red, almost pink. Soft and touchable. “Apparently, you do get cool birthday gifts as an adult.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

This thing between him and Eddie. It feels longer than running sand or ticking timers. Longer than their years of friendship. Maybe not timeless…

“I’ll tell you later, Eddie.”

But pretty damn close.

#steddie #steddie fic #Steve has a really soft shirt and Eddie can't stop touching it #that's it. that's the plot lol.

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Hospitality

No one makes better tea than Barbatos.

BARBATOS x afab!Reader 0.9k words | NSFW | Yandere | Non-con somnophilia Content warnings: Yandere thoughts/behaviours, non-con somnophilia, drugging, stalking. The Creepy Castle AU [Part 2] PREVIOUS | NEXT

When you enter the guest room provided for you at the Demon Lord's castle, there’s a steaming cup of tea on the nightstand. It’s not the first time Barbatos surprised you like this during one of your visits, and the kind gesture makes you smile.

You pick up the delicate porcelain cup and inhale the fragrant aroma - it’s sweet and slightly herbal, a blend of Devildom berries and flowers you can’t identify yet by smell.

You purse your lips and blow gently across the top. The murky red liquid ripples gently as you cool your drink. Your first sip is hesitant, but you hum appreciatively at the light, honeyed taste. You take another generous sip before setting the cup back down onto its saucer.

There’s a folded piece of clothing on the bedspread. When you lift it in front of you, you realize it’s a nightgown; the fabric is soft and semi-sheer, dyed a beautiful shade of dark blue. It falls just above your knees. You can tell by the feel of it that it’s luxurious, nothing that you would ever buy for yourself and certainly not to sleep in.

You attended a ball earlier this evening at Diavolo’s castle. Lucifer and his brothers insisted you join them. Diavolo welcomed you tonight with open arms.

The night was a blur of dancing and drinking and jubilant conversation. By the time the last guests departed, it was well past midnight and Lucifer readily accepted Diavolo’s offer to stay at the castle. Walking back to the House of Lamentation was a daunting proposition; more than one of his brothers drank too much tonight.

Lucifer and his brothers wandered off to their nearby guest rooms to sleep. Barbatos led you further down the hall and showed you to an exquisite room for your own use. He explained he prepared it for you at Diavolo’s request, to ensure your privacy and comfort. He wished you a good evening before he walked away.

You have nothing with you except a small purse and the dress on your back, purchased earlier that day with Asmodeus. If you twist oh so carefully, you can just reach the zipper and tug it down. The dress slides off your shoulders and glides lazily to the floor and pools at your feet. You drape the dress carefully over the back of an armchair so it doesn’t wrinkle too terribly by morning.

The cool castle air chills your skin and you can feel your bare nipples harden. It might not be appropriate to sleep mostly-naked when you’re a guest of the young prince. You feel ill-prepared for a night away from the comforts of home, but then you glance at the gift on your bed.

The nightgown fits perfectly and the material is silky against your skin. You pull back the blankets and slide into bed, sitting against the headboard with a tired sigh. You cradle the teacup in your palm and take more small sips. The warm liquid relaxes you, and soon you’re sleepy and can drink no more. You set the nearly-empty cup back on the nightstand and shimmy down the mattress to get comfortable. Once your head rests on the soft, cloud-like pillow, you close your weary eyes.

When your breathing slows and you descend into deep sleep, the candles that light the room blow out. The shadows come alive when you're bathed in darkness. Sin slips through the cracks of stone, the walls giving way so no more barriers exist between you.

Greedy eyes drink in your sleeping form and the sheets are tugged away, revealing your soft, touchable skin draped in midnight blue. The sheer fabric clings to each dip and groove and curve when you breathe.

He knew you would look lovely in this.

He dares to reach towards your sleeping face - his once-steady hands now shaking with anticipation, the urge to explore too overwhelming to resist. Beneath the supple leather gloves he wears, he can still feel the warmth of your skin that makes the craving he feels for you bloom deep in his belly.

His hand traces the fragile column of your throat and over the slope of your breasts, fingers gliding over the dips and curves of your chest and waist. The swell of your hip fits so perfectly in his hand. He dares to trail his thumb along the top of your thigh and into the warm space between your legs. Wandering fingers skim the lacy underwear you left on. He feels a hint of dampness there, and he wonders what sinful dreams his tea has given you.

He shifts the fabric aside and your light scent is even stronger now, sweet and musky and all his. He teases the edge of your folds and revels in how soft and warm you are. His movements are gentle, smoothed by the barest traces of slick gathering on his gloves. He wonders how greedy he can be tonight–

You squirm in your sleep and he pulls away quickly as though burned by the temptation of getting too close. You unconsciously rub your thighs together and he already misses his place between them. He savors his consolation prize when he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean until he’s devoured every last drop of you. He barely suppresses the urge to moan.

He needs to go, now, or he never will.

He slips back into the hidden passageway buried within the castle walls and becomes nothing but a shadow once more. He leaves no trace behind, except for the dregs of sleeping herbs in the bottom of your teacup.

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chuuyrr · 7 months

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AND I HOPE I NEVER LOSE YOU — DAZAI OSAMU & NAKAHARA CHUUYA

౨ৎ CW(s): f! gojo! reader, spoilers for bungo stray dogs season 5 and jujutsu kaisen shinjuku showdown arc

౨ৎ SYNOPSIS: in which they almost lose you as you fight against the special grade curse, ryomen sukuna

inspired by: anon's angst request + my urge to write justice (somewhat) for canon! gojo satoru in jjk + taylor swift's cornelia street live in paris !

the fight was going smoothly, he thinks as he observes from a distance with the armed detective agency.

he had never been this terrified before, especially since the curse had used his malevolent shrine earlier. he couldn't handle the sight of a thousand cuts and your own blood on your skin as a result of your opponent's ability.

you failed to destroy mahoraga with a single shot with your limitless: reversal red. you were now suffering from severe nosebleeds and dizziness as a result of having to use your domain expansion against the sukuna, and the three versus one play against you was beginning to wear on you.

you were able to take care of it by reversing your limitless ability, your innate infinity, allowing you to continue battling, but unfortunately, mahoraga was summoned right in front of their eyes, and the tide had changed.

most importantly, the untouchable was now touchable.

and then those tides came crashing down the sukuna utter, "i will never forget you, gojo [name],"

DAZAI OSAMU was generally calm. he was capable of studying and predicting any circumstance, in fact he had always had everything under control, but even with his trust in you, a part of him couldn't help but feel terrified.

he was practically chewing on his nail with the skin on the sides picked on from nervousness.

at first, dazai couldn't believe it as the ringing in his ears drowned out the cries of his colleagues, the armed detective agency, for you.

he stood there, stunned, forced immobile by the macabre image of you being practically ripped in half in the most terrible way possible by sukuna, but then he was overcome with a rage he had never felt before.

the former port mafia executive's bloodlust was felt by the armed detective agency, but they were overtaken by the same great emotion of wrath. you weren't a member, but you were now a part of them, and you were also dazai's one and only.

there was a knock at the door as you stood in the brightly illuminated classroom, surrounded by your colleagues, such as nanami and haibara, and even your missing partner, suguru. you took a breather from the discussion and smiled.

your yaga-sensei was already shaking his head, but with a smile, "looks like you've got to go."

you wave them all goodbye and turn to face the door, elbowing suguru when he teases you, but the door slid open.

and when you heard his voice, dazai's voice, you felt more alive than you had in a long time.

your eyes shoot open with a sudden gasp, and the first thing you notice is dazai's tearful brown eyes staring down at you. you'd never seen him so vulnerable or full with emotion before.

you were still a little dizzy, but his touch was enough to ground you.

the way you were just now reminded him too much of oda before he died in his arms. dazai cups your face in his hands and continues to cry. he was literally shaking as he held you tightly for dear life.

"osamu..?" you muster out softly, glancing about at the damage you wreaked before with the sukuna, but he couldn't care less right now.

all that mattered to him right now was that you were alive and breathing again.

"w-wait, sukuna. where the hell is he?" you grunt, sitting up to prop yourself up.

you were ready to get back on your feet now that you've regained consciousness and gotten your body back in shape despite your ripped clothes, but dazai stops you.

his pair of strong arms tighten around your torso, causing you to lose your balance and collapse on top of him.

"osamu—" your eyes open for a brief moment at his movements, but you soon return to silence as he cuts you off.

dazai presses his lips into yours, silencing you as he kisses you hard. your hands reach towards his shoulders and grab them. you close your eyes as the only thing that mattered right now was the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

a wordless groan escapes from him as he sought to hush any more words that dare to escape your lips with his own.

"don't ever leave me again!" dazai exhales as he breaks away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours and stroking your cheek.

you can't help but cry as the realization of nearly dying settles deep into your skin. however you didn't need to know anything more because you already knew it was yosano's doing given your knowledge of her ability

you rest your head against his chest, sighing deeply, "i'm so sorry, osamu. it's okay, i'm here now. okay?"

dazai becomes quiet, burying his face in your hair, kissing the top of your head, and inhaling your scent as he continues to cling to you, frightened to let go, believing you would vanish the moment he does.

he was just so glad and relieved to be able to feel your warmth on his own flesh again, and see you breathing with such life, that he couldn't help but pepper urgent kisses on your face as he cups your face in his hands, as if he wouldn't be able to shower you with his love again ever again.

"i love you," he whispers as he stares longingly into your eyes, "please don't ever scare me like that again, sweetheart."

"you won't lose me again," you reply with a smile tugging your lips before kissing his own lips again as you pull yourself closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth and embrace all over again.

NAKAHARA CHUUYA's heart was pounding so hard that he couldn't breathe. his chest clenched to the point where he couldn't move when he witnessed sukuna's ability work against you, cutting through you as if you losing arm wasn't awful enough.

it was a horrible, horrible feeling.

perhaps it was worse than having to resort to corruption, especially when that goddamn curse says he will never forget you.

you lay there on the ground, staring up at the sky, slowly losing your breath, and for a brief moment, you could hear ringing in your ears—a white noise, as if telling you that it was all over.

in any case, you couldn't feel the pain anymore, and it was beginning to seem like heaven for some strange reason, and the way the sky looked reminded you of chuuya's gray-blue eyes, which made you chuckle.

when your eyes become heavy, you close them, and the voices in the background become muffled. you find yourself in a familiar setting. there was your old partner, suguru, as well as colleagues like nanami and haibara.

despite the injury to you and the blood you were gushing, you already had your eyes closed and a smile on your face, and it left chuuya in ruins.

the port mafia executive runs screaming towards your body as soon as it touches the concrete. his hands trembled as he drew you to him.

"no, no, no!" he screams urgently for your name as yosano, a doctor from the armed detective agency, rushes into action, briefly abandoning the others and the fight they were having against your opponent to administer to you.

yosano screams for her ability, activating it and a swarm of butterflies flutters about you. chuuya was sobbing now, and he didn't care. he doesn't care if a member of the detective agency or anyone else sees him in this state.

"fuck, come back to me! [name]! damn it, come back to me, will you?!" chuuya desperately cries for you, shaking you violently, as the ability of the doctor courses through you.

"please, please. don't you fucking die on me like this, sweetheart," chuuya's voice crumbles even more as he cradles your body against his.

you can't help but feel so at peace. everyone else was discussing the upcoming assignment, but you were joking with your companion, who was once again arguing with you.

it not like you two ever had the same ideology in the first place, but it had always been like way for you and suguru.

right now, you were surrounded by the people you cared about, including riko, the girl you swore to protect when she was given to you for a mission. she, too, was cheerful and content with her own family, her carer, kuroi.

everything was in place, except for one thing. as though there was a void in your chest. suguru notices when you stop talking and sighs.

"you know, you should go, [name]," suguru says with a shake of his head.

"and where do you suppose i go?" you grumble and roll your eyes, folding your arms.

a sad expression crosses his face for a short while since he knows you can't be with them yet, which causes you to raise your brow.

but then suguru suddenly laughs and shoves you off your chair, causing you to tumble, "oh, you know where. now get out of here, idiot!"

and that's when you heard him right then and there. chuuya.

your chuuya is reaching out to you.

chuuya was already fatigued, bloodied, and in pain, yet the feeling of only using corruption against that damned curse couldn't compare to you. not after what sukuna has done to you.

he was still out of breath as he opened his mouth, unable to formulate any proper words. chuuya peers down at your motionless form, his chest aching.

the feeling was so overwhelming to him that red marks began to appear on his skin again, his own body unconsciously activating corruption.

"oh grantors of dark disgrace," the sentences were already running from his lips in yearning to be with you, but his heart skips a beat for a split second just as he was about to continue it.

"chuuya, stop," it was your voice.

the red markings on his skin fade the moment he hears it, somehow finding the strength to stop it on his own. he raises his face in great disbelief. yosano's ability had pushed through.

"[name]? [name]!" chuuya exclaims as he sees you standing with yosano supporting your back and dazai holding your arms to keep you steady.

chuuya is dizzy from the immense relief that pours over him, but he rushes towards you nonetheless, nearly falling as he throws his arms around you, bringing you to his body.

your entire body was now entirely healed, thanks to the detective agency's doctor's capacity to treat any bodily exterior damage for as long as the target was half-dead. however, your body was slackened with exhaustion.

white dots danced about your peripheral vision as you acclimated to your surroundings after being on the verge of death seconds before, but all you could focus on right now was the fact that you could still hear, see, and feel chuuya.

"you idiot!" chuuya shouts, worried and angry, though it sounded like nonsense because he had been sobbing the entire time. he was also aggressively squeezing your body with his arms, trapping you against his chest.

"what if you fucking died, huh?! what would i fucking do?" he rambles on, his hands desperately clinging to you.

"i know, i know," you breathe heavily, placing an arm around his shoulder and drawing yourself closer to him as if your current proximity wasn't enough.

chuuya opens his mouth to raise his voice once more, but the words that come out of his mouth are softer and tinged with discomfort. he shifts one of his hands, tenderly touching your cheek as he kisses your lips with a groan.

"don't you dare die on me like that again.." he mutters quietly, planting another kiss on your lips, kissing you as if it were his last one with you before burying his face into your neck, feeling your now warm skin against him,

"i love you too much, sweetheart."

niki says ! i'm sorry if the scenarios are kinda repetitive, and i'm also sorry for being inactive. my pre-med course has been kicking my ass. i honestly feel like my writing is also rusty :(

join my taglist, perhaps ! @trashfox @magpiemissy @anqelically @96jnie @lovesick-fairy @soleelia @celestair @irethepotato @nianre @bloobewy @itz-stuts @17chuuya @achlysyo @youdidntseemehere21 @atomi-mi @idunnomynamesince2005

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whoahoney · 2 years

Text

An Attempt at a One Night Stand Pt. 2

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part 1 Part 3

Summary: The night has come and Reader is meeting Eddie at the Hideout for another evening of fun, but will Eddie leave with the seven digits he’s set out to get?

Content warnings: fem/AFAB!Reader, adult themes (alcohol, bar scene) and situations (minors DNI), smut (fingering, protected p in v sex, nipple play, edging, hair pulling), angst, idiots afraid of getting hurt.

A/N: I hope this meets everyone’s expectations! Once again, the attention this story has received is mind blowing, thank you all so much 🥺🤍

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been one week since she saw Eddie, not that she was paying super close attention or anything. He did find his way into her head at the most random times, though.

When she was cooking dinner for her son, the steam from the pot hit her face gently, reminding her of the way his breath felt against her face when he panted insatiably.

When she heard Hellraiser or any Ozzy on the radio, she couldn’t help but smile and turn it up louder, chuckling as she spotted Danny flipping his long brown hair side to side in the rear view mirror.

When she would lay on the couch late at night to watch some movies Robin brought, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen them, or liked them. But then she reminded herself that was ridiculous and continued to fail to not think about Eddie Munson and his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty dick.

Y/n tried to take care of her urges herself, but her toy just wasn’t cutting it for her this time. She couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

“Y/n! Are you getting ready for tonight?” Mollie shouted into the mouthpiece of her phone as she painted the top coat of her nails. The sun was setting which meant Stella would be around to pick everyone up for the evening.

“Yes, Molls, I’m getting makeup on as we speak.” Y/n said, referring to her strategic eyeliner, mascara, and chapstick trio, hoping the only thing that’s smudged tonight is her mascara, if he’s into that sort of thing.

“I hope you aren’t wearing much! Also, are you planning on wearing a dress? Cause I was thinking you should totally—“

“I’ll see you soon, Molls.” She said with a sigh behind her smile before hanging up the phone around the corner on her nightstand. She turned her attention back to the mirror, and let out a deep breath as she looked over her appearance.

She let her hair down around her face, combing her fresh curls out until they were touchably soft. She smoothed the front of her dress that she was debating on changing just to stick it to Mollie, but she knew they agreed for a reason. The black mini dress against her skin hugged her in all the right places, a contrast from the t-shirt, jeans, and converse she wore last week.

She straightened the thin straps that hung on her shoulders and leaned over to fix her breasts. She took a step back and debated on taking off the fishnets before she put on her black docs, when Robin came running into her room with Danny on her back, pretending to be a Pegasus.

“Mommy! Check out Robby’s wings!” He shouted, holding onto Robin’s band shako. The tall hat and feather led Danny to dream up the idea of a flying unicorn, which Robin quickly told him that there was such a creature called a Pegasus, which brought them to run around the house for the last 15 minutes.

“Whoaaa! They’re so strong, too!” She chuckled, leaning up against the doorframe and crossing her arms to give them her full attention.

“Neighhhh, I’ve been workin’ out.” She trotted around the room like a horse as the child squealed in delight. “Do you think I should nix the fishnets, Robin the Pegasus?”

“Depends!” She began as she sat Danny on the bed to watch Looney Tunes and then joined Y/n in the bathroom to speak lowly, “Are you hoping to take them off while you’re out?” She wiggled her eyebrows as she mirrored Y/n’s previous position against the door frame.

Y/n rolled her eyes and blushed furiously as she nodded. “Aren’t you going to the same bar—” Robin gasped with wide eyes, “Is it the same dude??” She covered her mouth in anticipation. Y/n waited a moment before nodding, Robin gasped again followed by a quiet giggle and happy dance complete with clapping. “Oh my god, you have a date?? I knew this day would come, oh my god. Who is he??” She rushed, grasping Y/n by the shoulders.

Y/n shook her head, “No, uh-uh, not a date, I just told him I’d come see his band play again.” She shrugged.

“His band? Y/n, aren’t you going to the Hideout?!” Robin questioned. Y/n froze, avoiding Robin’s look in the mirror, preparing for the tsunami of happiness that is Robin when she is excited.

“Holy fucking shit!” She exclaimed, looking like a kicked puppy when Y/n shot her a disapproving look and then looked behind her to Danny who was completely oblivious to the bad words flying behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” She momentarily clasped her hands over her mouth before taking them back off and continuing, “It’s Eddie, right? Is it Eddie Munson? I’m friends with him! That’s my boy! We went through the end of the world together.” She lowered her voice at the last part, Y/n knowing about the spring of ‘86, but not specifics, Robin having a hard time explaining the whole thing calmly and linearly.

“Eddie’s a good guy, Y/n, maybe the best. Y’know he’s always reminded me of—“

“Yeah. Me too.” Y/n gave a pained and tight smile. Robin winced, not meaning to strike any nerves. “Is-Is that why you like him, maybe?” She asked quietly, looking at her nails.

Y/n sighed and hopped up on the counter to face Robin. “Yes, and no. Yes, because he’s playful and witty and dorky like Adam. No, because Eddie is…”

“Unhinged?” Robin suggested, making Y/n laugh and nod, “Yeah, unhinged. I feel like Eddie is so wild and daring, but I don’t feel like that when we talk, like, I feel safe? I don’t know. But that feeling, that safe feeling is similar to how.. how things felt with Adam. Not the same—and not like I want it to be the same, cause I don’t.” Y/n rushed, Robin nodding and stepping closer to her friend. “No, I know. I know, Y/n/n, I don’t think anyone in the world could love Adam the way you do. Things are allowed to feel similar without being the same, you know? You aren’t—You aren’t cheating on Adam. You’re with Adam forever, dude, whether you feel it or not.”

“No, I do. But it feels so wrong. Like I already had my chance at true love. What if I’m just wasting our time if I decide to go through with this? If I decide to continue to see Eddie, if he’ll see me.” She added with an eye roll.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m surprised he didn’t follow you home like a lost puppy after last week now that I know ‘bar guy’ is Eddie! He’d jump at the chance to date you properly, Y/n/n.” Robin shrugged.

“You’re missing one thing, though, Robs: my son? That complicates a lot, if you didn’t know.” Y/n gestured to Danny who was now jumping up and down on the bed mercilessly. “Little boy, you better stop jumping before you fall down and hurt your arm again!” Y/n called from the bathroom, only turning her attention back to the mirror after he landed on his bottom and laid down on his stomach to watch the TV longer.

“Eddie would love Danny, are you kidding me?! They’d make the best of buds, and you mean to tell me he isn’t the slightest bit interested in the fact you’re a mom??” Robin shrugged as if the answer were simple. “No, he’s not, cause he doesn’t know! That’s not exactly information I share with the guys I meet when I’m out.” She sprayed her favorite perfume in the air before walking through it and turning off the bathroom light and walking past Robin into the bedroom.

“Wait, he doesn’t know? Are you gonna tell him?” Robin asked with wide eyes following after her. Y/n stood next to the tv, Danny panicking as she placed her hand on the knob to turn it off. “C’mon, squirt, we’re going to the living room til I gotta go!” She heaved the boy onto her hip as he calmed, laying his head on her shoulder while they walked, his mother leaving a peck on the top of his head.

“I don’t think I should until I know for sure what I wanna do with this situation, you know?” She asked as she placed Danny on the couch and turned on the tv for him. Robin was at a loss for words as Y/n put on her regular denim jacket. The familiar sound of Stella’s horn sounding from the driveway told her now was the time to kiss Danny bye.

“I love you, buddy, I’ll be back after Robby tucks you in bed, alright?” She said with a ruffle to his hair. Danny grabbed his mom's face with his small hands and planted a kiss on her head as she had done for him. “Love you too!” He said cheerily.

Robin nodded to Y/n in agreement at her previous statement as Y/n slipped on her shoes and tied her laces quickly. “Since it’s Eddie and all…keep the fishnets on, unless you’re, like, super attached to them, then don’t.” Robin said simply and then flashed a smile before opening the door for her, “Have fun!”

Y/n balked then rolled her eyes on her way out, “The chicken and vegetables are in the oven! Take it out when the timer goes off, and make sure he eats at least, like, three bites of his veggies, please!” She called as she opened the car door. Robin nodded, gave her a thumbs up and closed the door.

She took the opportunity to turn and look at her friends in the car, Kathy and Mollie beaming from the backseat and Stella smirking behind the wheel avoiding eye contact the best she could. “What?” Y/n asked exasperatedly.

“Nothing! You just look really good. Like, really good.” Kathy said, biting back a smile. “I mean, thanks, but what’s the big deal?” She looked down at her outfit once more, feeling self conscious and naked without the cover of her jeans and ringer t-shirt. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” She shook her head, her hand poised on the handle ready to get out and change at lightning speed.

“Oh, uh-uh, you look amazing, you’re wearing the dress!” Stella said as she dove over the center and pushed the lock down. Y/n scoffed and crossed her arms, thinking for a moment and sighing. “It’s not too much?” She asked quietly.

Her friends looked amongst each other and smiled, “Not at all, the denim and combat boots offset it perfectly! I do think he’s gonna blow his load when he sees you, if I’m being honest.” Mollie mumbled around a cigarette as she tried to light it.

The car erupted into cackles, “Mollie, oh my god!” Kathy blushed and covered her little virgin ears. “Oh, c’mon, Kath, you remember the way he looked at her when he was on stage during Hellraiser?? He wanted to devour her on the spot!” She exclaimed and handed the cigarette to Y/n to puff.

Y/n fiddled with the radio as the girls carried on, theorizing how many shots Gareth will try to do and how many times Jeff wins a game of Quarters. “It’s because he has bassist hands!” Kathy sighed dreamily. “Ope, Kath, looks like you got a little drool there.” Y/n turned and teased, sending another blush onto the timid girl’s cheeks.

“On a real note, though,” Y/n said as she took a drag, her backseat friend leaning in eagerly. “Go for it, ask him out. Jeff sounds sweet as can be. He’d be dumb not to.” She shrugged before turning back around to face the windshield.

Her friends in the car shared a look in the rear view mirror, hoping her encouragement to Kathy meant she would encourage herself the same. “Turn it up! Turn it up! Listen!” Mollie exclaimed, patting the back of Stella’s seat for attention. Y/n jumped and obliged her, ready to see what the fuss was about.

Dio’s Holy Diver filled the car as everyone looked at Y/n. Y/n crinkled her brow in confusion, “What about it? Did you finally give Dio a chance?? Is this your way of telling me I was right??” Y/n asked smugly. “Noo… you really don’t know?” Mollie asked incredulously.

Y/n searched the air for answers, coming up with nothing. “What is it??” She shrugged. “Well I guess we can’t blame you for not seeing the back of your boy much, but the whole back of his vest is a Dio album cover patch. Did you really not see it??” She asked as Y/n’s jaw dropped. “Oh god, I bet if she knew he liked Dio last week she would’ve spent the night.” Mollie said with a smirk, leaning back in the seat.

“Oh my god, she so wouldn't!” Kathy defended with a roll of her eyes. “But she could tonight.” Y/n caught her mumble to Mollie, the two bursting into snickers in the back seat. “Shut up!” Y/n turned quickly, weakly fighting off a smile threatening to break across her lips at the prospect.

Robin would stay the night with Danny if she phoned, she knew that. But she couldn’t help but worry tonight wouldn’t be like last week, that the illusion would be shattered and she’d be back to bar hopping next month, settling for some townie that paid ample attention to her for the evening to bone.

A small sick feeling crept into her stomach as they got closer to their destination, the fading deep blue of the sky sinking into black felt ominous though she was surrounded by love and light.

“Y/n/n, you good? Y’know we can bail if you want, find somewhere else to go, come back next week with an excuse?” Stella mumbled before they pulled into the parking lot sparse with old cars and beat down trucks.

Y/n shook her head, knowing she wanted to see him, that if the illusion was shattered it should happen now. Instead, she opened the car door, the rest of her friends following her lead. “Molls, can I have another cigarette?” She asked timidly. “Of course you can!” Mollie cooed like a mother. “Here you are!” She said, extending her hand with the single cigarette and yellow lighter for Y/n to take.

They walked into the establishment together, her hands shaking a little as she brought the cigarette up to her lips. She held the door open, having her friends walk before her as a last effort at putting off seeing the face that invaded her every thought since she left him last. She could hear the buzz of the electric instruments humming as she entered the hazy bar that was aglow with neon lights, just like last time.

The stage lights flashed on, revealing Corroded Coffin still setting up. “Oh good, we’re just in time!” Stella commented as she took off her jacket and hung it off the back of the chair she occupied last week. Y/n gave a half smile in response, worried if she opened her mouth she’d throw up. “I’ll just get you a drink, huh?” Stella asked, getting up and patting her shoulder before joining their other two friends at the bar.

Y/n sighed, now alone and even more vulnerable with her thoughts. She kept her eyes on the written-on table, different colors of pens and drawings etched into the old woodwork.

“Come here often?” Sent a jolt through her body as her head shot up to see Eddie Munson leaning on her table with two drinks and a warm smile. She clenched her jaw and gave into the smile he gave her as he set the glass in front of her and pulled up a chair, scooting next to her but keeping a safe distance.

“I don’t, but I figured I’d come back since this band I like is playing.” She shrugged, taking a sip of the clear mystery drink that turned out to be… water?

She shot him a quizzical look and looked at the drink in front of her. “I didn’t see you drink any water last week, just wanted to make sure you’re hydrated, you know?” He shrugged as her friends returned, drinks in hand. Their first drink of the night was a classic whiskey and coke, the fizzy drink making her eyes light up in delight, which made Eddie chuckle as the rest of the band joined them.

“Hey, ladies! What do you say we throw one back together before we go on?” Gareth asked as the group collectively agreed. Gareth and Jeff scrambled to the bar to grab four more drinks for a quick cheers. When they returned, the band each grabbed a glass, the group gathering around the table to tap their drinks together with a satisfying clink and tilting their glasses back til the dark liquid was gone and they were left with nothing but bitter tastes in the back of their throats and screwed up faces from the kick of it.

“I’m so glad to see you back, I can’t tell you how many times this last week Eddie was stressing about your girl, here.” Gareth teased lightly, a friendly smile on his lips as he sipped his chaser, sputtering when Eddie hit his arm too roughly, the girls biting back smiles. “We gotta get up there, bud.” Gareth said, wiping his mouth with his bare hand and then drying it on Eddie’s shoulder on his way past. Eddie sent Y/n a look with a shy smile, “I’ll, uh, be back later?”

Y/n nodded softly, “I’ll be here.” Her response brought a smile to his face, his eyes glittering just as they had a week prior as he nodded and walked to the stage, not trying to hide his glances back at her on his way.

“Try not rock too hard, girls.” Gareth said cheekily into the microphone as he settled on his stool and flipped his hair, which made Eddie and Jeff roll their eyes. “See you later, Kath.” Jeff smiled pointedly at the sweet blushing girl, who sent him a shy wave as he took his place with his bass. Grant never said much, but his skills as a rhythm guitarist were undeniable. The guy took the place to Eddie’s left and plugged his guitar into the amp, scratching out a riff to check the sound, and earning a rowdy cheer from the table in the back center.

The heads of the band members turned their attention back to the girls in surprise, not used to people actually paying attention to them up there. Small smiles erupted as the boys looked at each other. “Hell yes, Grant, let’s GO!” Mollie shouted as the other girls whooped and hollered.

Eddie turned and said something to the group before walking up to the mic and looking at his girl in the crowd. “This one’s for all the Johnny Cash fans in the room.” Y/n scoffed at the guitarist, her cheeks feeling awfully warm. “As always, ladies and gents, we are Corroded Coffin.” He said into the mic before Gareth counted them off and Eddie launched into the intro.

Kathy was simply mesmerized by Jeff and his bass skills, the low rumble of the chords he played making it harder for her to breathe, and then suddenly, self consciously squeezing her thighs together. Gareth entered heavy on the drums to Eddie’s satisfaction, a smile on his lips as he nodded; dancing around the little space he had on stage and masterfully dodging electric cords as he did.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she recognized the intro to Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash playing, just in their own style. She chuckled at his freeness, the way he bit his lip and thrashed his head until it was his time to sing, and oh, did she love hearing him sing.

“Love.. is a burning flame.. And it makes.. a fiery ring.” He looked up at Y/n at her table, her smirk still visible in the dim light of the bar.

“Bound by wild desire..” He sent her a wink, his smile growing when he saw her avert her eyes down and blush before taking another drink of her water. “I fell into a ring of fire..”

“I’m getting another round, you want?” Stella asked before she made her trip back to the bar, Y/n nodding and mouthing, “Shots!” To which Stella’s eyes lit up as she gave her friend a thumbs up.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down down down, and then flame went higher..

And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire.. the ring of fire..” He sang to her directly as her shot showed up on the table in front of her, a clear and tempting liquid she knew for sure this time wasn’t water. She took a whiff, her brows pulling together as she looked at her friend next to her, “Vodka? You’re dangerous.” Y/n commented before looking back to Eddie who was shredding a guitar solo on his knees, his gaze now cast on his guitar in his lap.

“C’mon, let’s go by the stage to do it, he hasn’t even seen your full outfit yet!” Mollie urged with two shots in hand as the rest of the group flocked to the edge of the make-shift stage with the handful of regulars that didn’t mind the rowdy boys once a week.

“The taste of love is sweet.. when hearts like ours meet..” Eddie took in her full appearance as she walked towards him; drink in hand and her jacket halfway off one shoulder, and suddenly became very thankful for the guitar covering his front.

He stopped strumming to take the mic with him as he crouched to her level, “I fell for you like a child.. ohhhh… but the fire went wild.” He sang with theatrical movements, which she rolled her eyes at but couldn’t deny the smile his antics caused.

“Shots! Let’s go! Knock ‘em back, girls!” Stella shouted over the music, everyone tapping their glasses against one another to down the fire like medicine, waiting for the desired effects to kick in.

Y/n began to feel warm soon after the second drink, discarding her jacket with her glass back at their table, Mollie grabbing her hand immediately after and spinning her around the dance floor, sending the two of them into a fit of giggles as Eddie continued singing. “I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down, down, down and the flames went higher and it burns, burns, burns.. the ring of fire, the ring of fire..” He kept his eyes on her spinning frame, stepping in time with the drums and following her friends' lead with ease, like it was something they’d done a million times, which they probably had.

The girls danced around the floor together, attracting the attention from the other bar patrons enjoying the change in music for the night as well. A few older gentlemen asked Kathy and Mollie to dance, which they obliged since they weren’t creepy, guiding them in fun partner dances around the floor as they laughed in merriment.

Stella volunteered to stay at the table and watch purses and drinks, ready to drink her glasses of water before they drive home in a couple hours. Eddie was eager to get off stage after the first song, opting into only playing two instead of the regular five for tonight even if it meant getting paid significantly less.

He sauntered over to where Y/n was seated with Stella, the latter nudging her arm and nodding at Eddie quickly approaching. He assumed his previous seat and scooted a smidgen closer with a satisfied smirk on his lips as he watched her intently.

“Hey.” He beamed.

“Hi, Eddie.” She giggled as Stella stood up and patted her shoulder, joining Gareth by the stage to chat.

“Y-You look really pretty tonight—not that you didn’t last time. You’re, just.. really really pretty all the time—not that I see you all the time either. I haven’t seen you since the last time I saw you—oh dear god.” He clenched his jaw with a tight smile, giving her a nod before booking it back to the stage in embarrassment when she caught his arm. “I was hoping you’d think so.” She murmured, her hand staying on his arm as his other hand came to lay on top of it.

“Yeah?” He asked as if she told him she brought him a present. He looked her over once more, nodding in approval, “So this is for little old me? You sure know how to make a guy feel special, sweet girl.” He leaned forward more, biting his lip in intrigue.

Y/n loved the way he looked, legs spread on either side of the chair; forearms resting on the back, holding her hand tenderly.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, his brows raising in interest. Y/n sulled up, taking a sip of her half gone water and nodded, “I’ve been good! Busy. And you?” She asked, taking another sip.

“Uh-uh, sneaky thing. We’re talking about you tonight.” He smirked, reaching for his water cup. “What was the best part of your week?” He asked with a shrug before he took a drink.

‘Danny sang his first song all the way through by himself.’ She thought.

‘Not now, later, when you’re more alone.’

“I, uh, got to have birthday cake on Wednesday.” She nodded.

‘At a child’s birthday party where Danny sang his first song by himself.’

Eddie smiled, “The simple things, right? Birthday cake’s the best, especially with that whipped cream frosting they pile on three inches thick! I love a good supermarket birthday cake.” He nodded contently as if he just finished a slice himself.

“What about you? The best part of your week?” She asked.

“Wayne and I went out to dinner in the city to celebrate his raise, got to have appetizers and drinks at a place without a sticky table, Y’know? All the garlic bread you can eat, it was heaven.” He shook his head indulgently.

“Food really lights you up, doesn’t it?” She asked. “Oh, god, yes, I love food. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks—hey, you’re doing it again.” He pointed at her and narrowed his eyes. “Do you do this on purpose or are you that bad at talking about yourself?” He asked.

“She’s that bad at talking about herself.” Stella chided as she returned to the table with Gareth following behind. Y/n stuck her tongue out at Stella who mirrored her expression, sending the both of them chuckling. “You guys want another before you get back at it?” Stella asked before she went to the bar, Gareth following closely behind as he shared a knowing look with Eddie that went missed by the two girls they were referring to.

“That sounds perfect, how about—“

“Tequila?” Eddie asked her with his eyebrows raised, two questions in one seemingly. Stella looked to Y/n for a simple answer while Eddie waited with a lip between his teeth, playfulness hiding his worry. “Gimme a double.” She said, her eyes flickering to Eddie’s, who’s eyes rolled back into his head blissfully, Y/n smiling at his antics as usual.

Gareth looked confused before his friend explained, “I love tequila, it’s my new favorite.” Eddie shrugged, the answer good enough to send Gareth to the bar behind Stella.

“I was hoping I’d catch you in a.. tequila mood.” He smirked, his boyish blush flooding back to his cheeks. His eyes trailed down her sitting figure, her dress hiked up past her mid thigh, and her sexy fishnets that had caught a couple runs since she got in the car.

“How could I wear a dress like this for you and not be?” She winked at him this time, his smile only growing as if he’d never been flirted with before.

“Here we are, one double shot of tequila, m’lady.” Stella handed the taller shot glass to her friend as she passed, the other friends gathering to acquire their own, more bubbly and giddy now that the festivities of the night had begun.

“Where’s the salt?”

“Where’s the limes?”

Eddie and Y/n asked in unison, their eyes avoiding one another and every other one of their friends who were so tempted to tease. Gareth almost did but was quickly interrupted by Stella placing a hand on his shoulder and asking him if he’d help her get the desired limes and salt.

“Amateur, shit, am I right?” Eddie joked quietly, nudging her arm with his and leaning closer to her, close enough he can smell the perfume she chose for tonight. Eddie could almost feel his eyes dilate when the scent hit him. The sweet aroma made him want to turn and bury his face in her neck and hair and leave sloppy kisses there. He felt the front of his jeans tightening as he imagined her sticking her tongue down his throat in front of all these people.

He snatched his gaze away as she giggled at his joke, suddenly realizing his face was so close to hers. Stella and Gareth returned with a plate of limes and a tall salt shaker.

“Everybody get some salt, get some lime, we’re doing this correctly, thank you!” Stella announced, Gareth smirking at her take-charge demeanor.

Y/n and Eddie were the first ones ready, her heart warming when he leaned over and grabbed two limes for the both of them. Mollie passed Y/n the salt. Eddie watched as Y/n sprinkled a nice and thick little line on her hand and quickly held out his own next to her so she could set him up. Without a thought she obliged him, chuckling without meeting his eye.

“Alright, party people, one, two, three!” Mollie declared, everyone racing to get theirs done the fastest though they couldn’t beat Eddie and Y/n, who took the shot in sync with one another no matter how fast each were trying to go while giggling the whole time.

“And she had a double!! Amazing, really.” Eddie said in awe as she sat her glass upside down on the table and wiped her mouth with a smile she stopped trying to get rid of.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna go play you one last song and then I’m completely yours.” He smiled earnestly, his sparkling eyes taking in her whole face for any sign of the thoughts circulating her head as he placed his hands on her shoulders, hoping she’d touch him too.

Y/n sighed, the warmth of his hands on her shoulders already electrifying. It took everything in her not to pick his hands up and kiss them before pulling his lips in for one to send him on his way. But she didn’t.

She nodded with a soft smile, “Sounds like a plan. Try not to rock too hard.” She teased, Gareth turning dramatically around in his stool on stage when he heard his advice repeated. Eddie looked content with her answer, the regular dreamy smile lingering on his lips as he made a forward movement, as if he were going to kiss her forehead or nose. His effort stuttered as he decided to turn on his heel and walk to the stage, clenching his teeth and shaking his head at himself.

‘Not yet, dude, what the hell.’

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat the same way it would’ve done had he actually kissed her. She watched him the whole time he walked away, hopping back up on the platform that held them up only a few feet higher than the floor.

“Did he just kiss you?” Mollie inquired quietly with a new drink in hand. Kathy and Stella’s necks cranes around from the table to get Y/n’s reply. She shook her head, “No, but I think he was about to. I-I think he changed his mind.” She shrugged with a small smile.

“Are you glad he didn’t?” Kathy asked, confused. Y/n sat back down and allowed her smile to grow. “No, I think I would’ve liked him to, but I don’t think any guy has overthought kissing me before. Especially not over the forehead.”

“He was going to kiss your forehead?” Mollie gasped, a couple old men turning in their chairs to see what the fuss was about as Y/n nodded sheepishly.

“Well you better give that boy a forehead kiss tonight, Y/n, or so help me God—“

“Oh my god, Mollie, okay, okay. Don’t have to tell me twice to kiss the cute little rockstar’s forehead.” She mumbled, settling into her seat as the alcohol took route in her bloodstream, finally back at the same level of sobriety she was at when she met Eddie the first time.

“You must have a little thing for him, or something.” Stella muttered in the chair next to her behind her glass like a secret. Y/n blushed and blamed it on the alcohol to save face from her own self.

“I just might.” She shrugged one shoulder and turned her attention back to Eddie who had just approached the mic again. “This last one’s for the coolest chicks in Indiana.” He said, the girls erupting into howling cheers.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n debated through the entire song on whether or not she wanted to tell Eddie more about herself that night, fighting the temptation to call Robin and tell her she was gonna give it a shot and see if Eddie wanted to take her back to his place for the night, but knew it was best if she didn’t. She couldn’t rush into anything too quickly no matter how easy it felt.

He’s thoughtful, respectful, ornery, laid back, there’s gotta be something, something wrong with this guy that he’s really good at hiding. I mean this is only the second time I’m meeting him, what if I let him take me somewhere and he murders me??

“Earth to Y/n.” Mollie waved her hand in front of Y/n’s face, “What? What’s up?” She shook her head of the thoughts plaguing her and took a sip of the beer she ordered after a whiskey.

“We asked if you were feeling okay.” Stella spoke up, nudging her friend’s arm with a worried look in her eyes. “Yeah, I feel great, it’s just… he seems too good to be true, right? Like, is it just me? A-Am I thinking about it too hard??” She whispered urgently, her hand resting against her forehead to block her distress from the boys at the front of the room.

The girls looked amongst each other and to the lead singer, who played the Metallica solo with care, stealing glances at the object of his affection when he could.

“I don’t think so, Y/n/n.” Kathy said with a smile and a shake of her head. “I’m with Kathy, you said Robin knows him, right? Wouldn’t you say Robin’s a good judge of character?” Mollie asked while she was bobbing her head to the beat.

Y/n shrugged in contemplation, “I mean, yeah.” She thought back to Robin mentioning ‘the end of the world’ as she referred to it, how Eddie went through it with her. Y/n looked back at him, pure joy on his face as he stood close to Grant while they strummed and picked together, just messing around and jamming during the transitional points of the song.

She wondered how he handled the murders, the blame, the running and hiding. She wondered about the blank spots that her friend was unable to fill, the shared horrors they’d seen and if he had to sleep with a light on like Robin did.

She wanted to let herself let go, to feel safe and small in the palm of his hand, finally able to put her trust and belief and time into someone.

“No one said you had to marry the guy. Y’know you can date casually, right? If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Simple!” Stella shrugged matter of factly.

Y/n looked like a fish out of water at the suggestion, one that wouldn’t seem all too wild to a regular person with regular and normal relationship habits and views, but Y/n had been practically married to her first boyfriend the majority of her teen years. How is she supposed to let anyone go so easily once she’s let them in?

“Yeah, simple.” She muttered and took a swig as the song ended. Eddie held a gleam of eagerness in his eye, freeing himself of his strap around his neck and hopping off the stage with his guitar in hand. “Here comes your boy.” Mollie muttered to her lap, Y/n’s head snapping up to meet his smiling gaze striding up to her.

“How’d you like it?” He asked the table, though kept his eyes on Y/n. The girls collectively agreed and smiled, throwing out compliments that made his cheeks and ears pinker than they were from being winded as the rest of the guys joined the table.

“The guitar solo—mind melting.” Y/n commented with a coy smile and taking a sip of her drink. Eddie nodded approvingly, “Thank you, thank you.”

Gareth stood behind Stella’s seat and rested his hands gently on the back before looking down at Y/n. “Hey, Y/n/n, why don’t you help Eddie here take his guitar to the van out back? I know he’d appreciate it so much.” He cooed with a saccharine smile that sent the table into poorly repressed snickers.

“Y’know, Gareth, I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth.” Y/n answered, tilting her drink all the way back to finish it. Eddie’s eyes went wide as he looked at his best friend next to him, who sent him a wink as the girl stood from her seat and sent Eddie a look with her brows raised, “C’mon.” She said, taking his free hand and pulling him along, refraining from glancing back at his lovesick gaze to avoid further teasing from their friends.

When they got outside and reached the light pole they’d stood under previously, Eddie spun her around and gently pulled her close by her waist, his eyes fixed on hers with earnesty. “Hi, angel.” He said to her quietly like that was the first time he had greeted her that evening.

“Hi, Eddie.” She pushed a curl behind his ear, a move that made him blush again and avert his eyes to his black boots that happened to closely resemble her own, placing his hand over hers to keep it in place a moment longer.

“Can I ki—“ His request was interrupted by her lips crashing onto his, a low groan rumbling from his throat as he melted into her touch, almost forgetting he was holding the neck of his guitar in one hand as he tried to pull her closer.

He pulled back reluctantly, sprinkling pecks all over her mouth before he pulled back for good, “I need both arms to hold you, come on, I’ll tuck her in, then it’s just you and me.” He joked, throwing his arm over her shoulders and walking with her around the building.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel like a real rockstar leaving a gig with a groupie under his arm, not to mention the hottest. He grazed his fingers across her back and trailed them down her arm as he let go, opening the back doors of the van and immediately spotting the open guitar case.

“Here you go, baby.” He muttered, placing the instrument gently inside the velvet lined case and kissing his hand to run across the strings before closing it. “You really know how to treat your women, don’t you, Munson?” She asked, crossing her arms and admiring the sight.

“I strive to be a gentleman, what can I say?” He asked, moving the case up on its side to lean against the wall of the van. That’s when she noticed the added pillows and blankets it had rested on top of. Eddie busied himself by straightening the blankets, spreading another out on top to cover up with, it seemed. There sat a solid row of bed and throw pillows up against the back seat, the warm dim lighting set the mood greatly.

“Were you expecting some company?” She asked, her question freezing him on the spot before he turned around with alarm in his wide eyes. “I, uh, just assumed—I shouldn’t have thou—I’m so sorry,” He rambled, getting ready to shut the doors of the van and walk her back to the front when she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, again, freezing him on the spot.

“Eddie…” She cooed, swaying them gently from side to side, then raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Y-Yes?” He asked in a whisper. “Is this for me?” She asked softly next to his ear, a lip between her teeth as he shivered.

He turned to her, nodding, his fingers finding her waist and sliding his hands up underneath her jacket and roaming the curves her dress hugged so well. He felt his member throb the more she touched him and the more he touched her.

Her fingernails scratched his chest satisfyingly, the feeling sending another vibration up his throat as he nuzzled his nose into her neck and pulled her close. The smell of her warm skin was intoxicating, bewitching him and pulling him further under her spell. “You know, you’re all I’ve thought about since the moment I laid eyes on you.” He said through messy kisses to her neck, her knees growing weak at the sensation, the sentiment pulling a careless moan from her lips.

Eddie took the noise as encouragement, his movements becoming more deliberate and quick. “C’mere.” He growled, turning them around to the van and reaching to grab just underneath her ass to encourage her up and into the back.

She scooted back until she was all the way in, unlacing and kicking off her docs in the process while Eddie hopped in and shut the doors. She set about taking off her jacket as Eddie turned to take off his boots, smiling at her in wonderment as he did. She waited for him, sat on her calves with her hands in her lap. Eddie crawled over to her and took in her appearance; her tits peeking out of the top of her dress, the fish nets on her legs that begged to be ripped off.

“What do you think about?” She asked breathlessly as his lips hovered over hers.

“W-what?”

“When you think about me?” She asked, allowing herself to look deep into his eyes instead of making herself close her eyes or look away, she wanted to see him—to learn him.

Eddie smiled adoringly and set about kissing her jaw, chin, neck, and shoulders chastely; laying her down into the nest he created for them to hopefully spend the night. “I’ve thought about what you’d look like sleeping in my bed,” he chuckled against her skin.

Y/n softly gasped, egging him on. “I’ve thought about what I’d make for your breakfast in the morning,” he whispered below her ear against her neck, “and how you look when you wake up all sleepy and squinty eyed, I’ve wondered if you’re a morning person or not,” he sighed, slipping his fingers into hers and holding them beside her head again.

“Eddie..” She moaned, her mouth searching for his lips, “Do you think of me?” He asked, his front grinding into her middle as he hitched her leg around him, letting his hand greedily run up her thigh, dragging his fingers along the threads of her tights.

“Of course I do.” Y/n whispered, her free hand finding the side of his face. He leaned into her touch and sighed contently, his body going limp on her. She smiled as he unlaced his fingers from hers and wrapped his arms around her underneath him, caging her body in with his, though she wasn’t complaining.

“Oh, how I missed you, sweetheart.” He whispered, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck to smell her perfume and groaning as it filled him. She wrapped both legs around his torso as he settled in planting kisses on her in between the praises: ‘I swear, you’re the girl of my dreams’, ‘Been thinkin’ about the ways I wanna make you feel, baby..’, ‘Such a pretty girl..’

Y/n revelled in his voice, touch, and scent, gasping softly and arching her back, her legs turning to mush. “I love these.” He breathed with a smile, sticking his fingers through a few of the holes to squeeze her inner thigh better, making her lurch and giggle into him as he put his mouth against hers.

She mewled into his open mouth, whimpering as he echoed her sound back at her. “Tell me what else you think about, baby.” She said to him, throwing her inhibitions to the wind, ready to take a step.

Eddie’s lips smacked against hers, smearing their wetness across their mouths before disconnecting to answer her, her lips immediately honing in on his throat, licking and kissing as he struggled to get the words out, “It’s stupid, it’s-it’s- nothing sexy, really, it’s all purely domestic—“

“Tell me, Eddie.” She urged, sliding her hands under his shirt to rake her nails down his front, lightly enough to make him stretch like a cat and rut his hips into hers. “Oh, shit, baby, uh, I, think about what you look like when you make dinner, ahaha—“ he chuckled nervously, hoping it didn’t come off mysoginistic. Y/n bit her lip to repress a moan, feeling pathetic at the thought of him eating his own dinner and thinking of her.

“Or, or, or, getting ready for bed, I wanna know what your hair smells like when you just washed it, if you’re a bath or shower person, if you’re one of those girls that likes to wash their hair in the sink or not.” He mumbled as her lips reached his and she flipped them over to grind her hips down on him.

“You are such a sweet boy.” She whispered, finally sliding his shirt up his chest until he took it the rest of the way off then returning his hands to her waist, lightly digging his fingers into the thin material of the black dress.

This was the first time Y/n had enough light to notice Eddie’s fading scars, one wrapping around the back of his neck, another hidden underneath the dragon piece he had on his side. She ran her fingers over the edges of the marred skin, careful not to touch too much. Eddie froze giving her a chance to explore, and hoped she wouldn’t ask too many questions or be hindered by them.

She looked up at him with eyes that saw him, whether he understood the extent or not, he knew that much; that she saw him.

She placed tender kisses that traced the edge of the trail up to his neck, her tongue being awful generous. “Tell me more, I wanna hear it all.” She whispered next to his ear.

“I thought about you at the grocery store.” He blurted out as his eyes fell closed, his breathing running ragged. Y/n giggled, her hands roaming his chest between them, “Which section did it for you, huh?” She asked playfully, looking up at his face as his eyes opened. Her hands reached around the back of his neck to rest.

“It was the cereal.” He sighed, stroking her hand with his and looking between both of her eyes and then her lips. Her heart warmed and couldn’t help but chuckle before bringing him back in for a kiss, moaning into his lips as his hands found her ass to squeeze.

“Why cereal?” She asked, pausing her kisses.

“Uh, I just—I was wondering what kind you buy, and how I’d want to have it for you so I could, make you a bowl after we—“ he stopped at the sound of her slipping the straps of her dress down her shoulders until she could push the top of her dress down to her waist, his smile returning to his face instantly.

“After we.. what?” She teased, his eyes unmoving from her chest in awe.

“Oh god, how I’ve missed you guys.” He said to her breasts. “You guys? You’ve personified my tits already? Do you really think you know them like that?” She asked, leaning up with a smile as her sat up with her, attaching his lips to her nipple and sucking immediately, “Oh, fuck, Eddie.”

“If I ‘don’t know them like that’, how come they look so happy to see me?” He asked, his face resting in between them as his hands pressed them to his cheeks with a sigh. Y/n threw her head back and laughed on his lap, her pussy throbbing when he bounced her unexpectedly, watching and feeling her tits jiggle in front of him and sending a shockwave to her clit that rubbed against his screaming erection trying to escape his jeans.

“Oh, baby girl..” he growled in disbelief, letting go of her breasts and watching her on top of him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you again.” He whispered in awe before dragging his fingers up her thighs and grabbing onto the netting more fiercely, lightly scratching her skin as he did. “And these little things.. oh god.. it’s like you know me. I wanna, ugh—“ He said roughly, unable to finish his thought because he simply couldn’t resist mouthing and lightly gnawing the soft, tender flesh around her nipple.

“What do you wanna do with them, Eddie? Tell me—I wore them for you, tell me what to do with them.” She whined wantonously.

“ ‘wanna rip ‘em off you, baby..” he said lowly, his fingers curling up around the netting on the backs of her thighs, the tension making the threads dig into her skin deliciously as she whispered in anticipation, “Do it—Do it, Eddie, rip them off me, anything you want.” She mumbled against him excitedly, almost drunkenly.

Eddie pulled away to look in her eyes, hoping she wasn’t joking or exaggerating. “Yeah? You want me to?” He asked in disbelief. She nodded, a pathetic ‘mhm’ slipped from her lips as his hands slipped up to her breasts again, lightly grazing his fingertips over her skin to make her whimper.

“You wanna turn around for me, sweet girl?” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath rolling over her and making her weak as she nodded. Y/n released her grip on him and turned with the assistance of his hands, swiveling her hips, her palms meeting the blanketed floor of the van eagerly.

Eddie kept his tongue tucked between his teeth through a satisfied smirk, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants to give himself some relief, “Have you been treating this sweet pussy right since you’ve been gone?” He asked, bending over her back and hiking up her skirt around her bum, running a loving hand down the swell of it as he spoke, his other hand coming down to wriggle underneath hers, encouraging her fingers between his.

Y/n looked back at him with a look so desperate it was almost a pout and shook her head. “Aw, honey, no one else to fill you up the way you need?” He asked, dripping with mockery.

“I didn’t want anything else, Eddie.” She whispered, reaching back to cover his hand with hers. Eddie keened at her words, his dick jumping at the thought of her only being satiated by him, no other able to do what he was capable of.

“Oh, you did it. You really did it.” He said through clenched teeth, gripping the back of her tights as she arched her back, her ass pushing back onto him as he said so. “What are you gonna do about it? You gonna give me what I need?” She asked seductively, rubbing her back side against his groin, satisfied when she felt his solid member through the denim.

Eddie pulled the netting that covered her apart, much more than he meant to, really. He meant to tear the crotch out, enough to fuck her in her pretty outfit, but instead he ripped them clean in half, the mesh falling around her on the floor. Eddie realized then that she hadn’t worn any panties, the sight of her on her hands and knees and almost bare for him sent his dick pulsing.

Eddie hurriedly shoved his pants down his thighs, his cock slapping his stomach and brushing her ass on the process. Y/n bit her lip in anticipation, hearing his sounds as he moved around behind her.

“C-Can I get you naked, baby? I’m sorry, it’s just now that I got you like this, I just—I wanna see you. I wanna see all—“

She interrupted him by sitting back on her heels and unzipping the back of the dress to shove it down with the waistband of her now useless tights and returning to her previous position with her back arched and her hair loose down her back.

“C’mon, Eddie, show me what else you been thinking about.” She said, nudging his hard cock with her bare ass once more before he grabbed her hips and snaked a hand to her clit, playing with her bud gently before pressing a finger inside of her, a sigh of relief leaving her lips.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it.” He smiled at her dropped head. “You feel—ugh, I missed, I missed the way you feel.” She preened, his rhythm as he played her pussy absolutely impeccable.

“Is that your way of saying you missed me?” He asked next to her ear, bringing his other hand to cup her breast and play with it slowly. Y/n didn’t answer, only turned her head to slot her lips over his and lick his top lip, collecting his sweet taste on her tongue and bringing it back to savor before kissing his lips again.

Eddie breathed a hum against her, his pelvis grinding against her as she pressed back against him, their movements getting more intense the more they fell into rhythm with one another. “C-Condom?” She asked, reaching back to grab his hip.

Eddie reached over to the corner of the van, under a couple pillows to pull out a pack of condoms, the top of the box unopened. Y/n heart melted at the sight and sound of him opening the new box that he definitely purchased for them for tonight.

“20 pack, huh? That’s mighty ambitious for one night, don’t you think?” She asked with a smirk in her voice, sitting down on her side as she watched him unwrap the package and roll it onto his length. “Well, sweetheart, that’s because I plan on using most of these in future, you know?” He asked, his hand grazing up the side of her leg and tapping her hip as a signal to flip back over.

Y/n bit her worried lip, half wondering if he meant for them to be used on other encounters or if he put 20 condoms worth of stock into their connection. Instead of thinking about it too much, she focused on the way the heat between them felt when he leaned over her again to fondle her chest with both hands and rut against her backside a little bit longer, his hot breath teasing her ear as he licked and nibbled her earlobe, his fingers antagonizing both nipples at the same time and leaving her pussy dripping with little attention.

“Eddie..” she sighed, tilting her head to allow him further access. He gazed at the side of her face, eyes closed and mouth agape in hot pleasure. Eddie left a damp peck on her neck, “You gonna let me have your phone number after this? So maybe I can use more of these bad boys?” He chuckled dryly into her skin, referring to the condoms she worried about so shortly before, as if he could read her mind.

Y/n cracked a smile, her eyes opening just a touch before replying, “Fuck me first and then I’ll decide.”

Eddie grinned, gathering her hair in a ponytail and leaning back up. Y/n thought nothing of the tension she felt at the back of her head until she felt him wrap it around his hand, pulling a small gasp from her as he smeared her arousal around her weeping slit to enter her.

Y/n cried out as he pushed in, using her hair to pull her body back onto his cock, the air stolen from him as soon as he was buried inside of her. “Oh my god, Angel, I missed you, I missed you so much.” Eddie preened as he began to thrust lazily. He loosened his grip on her hair, keeping a light grasp on the end of the pony tail he gathered and playing with the ends absentmindedly.

“Eddie, you feel so good, please go faster—I’ve needed you so bad.” She urged, bouncing her ass off of his pelvis as he froze, watching her jiggle as she fucked herself on him.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he sighed, adjusting his grip onto her hips, the metal of his rings and his fingertips digging into the supple skin. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.” He laughed as his thrusts picked up to double speed, his smugness showing out as she moaned carelessly with her mouth wide open, already louder than she was last week.

“Oh, I think I do.” She managed before his fingers set about circling her clit again. “Yeah? You been thinking about me? You been trying to do what I do for you?” He asked down by her ear again, his nose pressed into the side of her head.

She nodded miserably, her eyes closed as her throat gave a weak ‘uh-huh’ in response as he pressed deeper on her clit. “You been saying my name? When you touch yourself thinking about me?” He teased. She nodded again to his surprise. “You think about me like I think about you?” He asked quieter, as if he asked for a sidebar during sex.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, turning her head to look at him again and leaning her forehead onto his before nodding. Eddie’s hungry eyes turned soft and warm, “Yeah?” He asked, his thrusts picking back up. “Tell me, sweetheart. I wanna hear about it, please?” He asked sweetly.

Y/n scrunched her eyes shut as he sat up again, using her hips to control their pace, keeping her from rocking back into him and satiating herself without indulging him first. “Uh.. I thought about—I thought about you when I watched Children of the Corn.” She struggled, Eddie’s movements stopping as he howled with laughter.

“I’m so—I’m sorry, y-you thought of me during a movie? That’s so cute, Princess. And a Stephen King horror? I’m impressed. What did you think about?” He asked, resuming his thrusts into her and leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

“I was thinking about if you’d seen it, if you’d liked it, i-if you’d watch it with me if I had your number to call you—“

“Of course I would, baby, you wouldn’t even need a phone—“ He sped up sloppily, pushing them both to the limit very quickly and unexpectedly, the wet slaps between them building with the pleasure in her stomach until he abruptly slowed down, his breath quickened.

“You just gotta walk outside and holler my name, I’ll be there in five seconds.” He panted out as he caught his breath. Y/n smiled, her eyes too heavy to open for the moment. “What else, baby? I wanna hear it all..” He spoke in a gravelly whisper, squeezing her hips in his hands again and starting another fair pace so she could talk.

“I, I—fuck. I had a dream about you.” She said, his strokes getting faster the more he liked what she said.

“Tell me.” He muttered.

“Uh, y-you were in my bed. You were in my bed and we were—oh god, Eddie, please make me cum.” She sighed desperately, tears collecting in her eyes as her climax approached and faded again as he stopped his movements against her.

“You gotta tell me, baby, what were we doing, huh? Were we goin’ at it? Were we sleeping? What is it, baby, tell me.” He urged, his hand slipping back down to her clit, his other reaching for her nipple to tweak and bother until she answered properly.

“I was—you were laying under me, on my pillow, and you were, ugh, you were so, fuck—“

His strokes to her pussy were enough to melt her brain, Eddie catching onto her powerlessness and slowing his movements, “Sorry, baby, I got excited.” He muttered against her hair in a kiss.

Y/n took a breath and continued, “You were so cute, just laughing and being.. you, and I just kept kissing you. Over and over and everywhere, and when I woke up I—“ she stopped, remembering what happened after the fact she realized she was by herself in her bed, yet again, and feeling alone and empty as ever.

“What?” He asked, his circles becoming more frivolous on her front, her orgasm creeping up on her steadily. “Uh, I, uh, don’t remember.” She muttered, rocking back against his dick. “C’mon baby, tell me.” He urged quietly, his arm wrapping underneath her and pressed her back to his chest as he did.

She shook her head, “Please, Eddie, I can’t take it much longer, please. Please, please, make me cum. I’ve wanted you so bad.” She whined, his pace picking up and posture suddenly straight.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait anymore, baby, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay? Sweet girl with such a sweet— little—cunt.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, his smile returning when her sounds slipped from her open mouth.

“I wanna kiss you when I cum, Eddie.” She mumbled to him over her shoulder, her head weak from the pleasure coursing through her veins. The words from her mouth almost made him lose it himself, though the low groan he released seemed to curb the impulse.

Eddie stopped and pulled out of her, holding her hips steady as he turned her around to face him, her body feeling weak as she panted against him, leaning into his chest for a moment before they began again.

“C’mere, sweet girl. You wanna lay down for me?” He asked, nodding to the pillows below. She took a deep breath and nodded, her flushed skin making Eddie smile. She settled below him on the pillows, her eyes unreadable.

“Can I have this here?” He asked quietly as he hitched her leg over his shoulder and took her hand in his, laying it against the pillow. Y/n nodded, a sweet and relaxed smile stretching across her face, assuring him once more and giving him a smile of his own.

“Can I have this here?” She echoed, gently pulling his dick near her slit. Eddie chuckled heartily and nodded, “Yeah, baby, you have whatever you wa—uhhh—ohhh shit.” He groaned as she wrapped her other leg around his ass and pushed him inside of her until he was buried in her once again.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie, and don’t stop, okay? Please, please, please,” she begged as he got rough with his movements, unafraid of slamming his hips into her the more she cried out for him.

“Just—like—that—oh—my—gooo—odd..” he fucked the words out of her lips with every thrust, his hand flying back down to her clit when her head fell back, her hair down in front of her shoulders, framing her pretty face and tits for him. He wanted to leave wet kisses all the way up the path of her torso, but decided he would the next time he got to fuck her.

“Yeah, baby, lemme hear it.” He whispered, rubbing her clit with more pressure on her mound as her walls began to flutter and construct around him, giving him the signal to start thrusting faster again as she came. “Eddie, fuck—kiss me, kiss me!” Her eyes opened, locking on his immediately as he dove down to encompass her lips with his own as he fucked his own orgasm into her quivering cunt, their lips wet and gasping for each other.

They stayed kissing long after their orgasms were over, just waiting for the other to pull back and end it, though neither of them did. They breathed through their noses against each other, their hands wandering one another’s hair and skin.

Eddie pulled the sheet over their bodies, the linen creating a tent above them as he wrapped his arms around her body and laid on top of her, her legs wrapping around his middle like a puzzle piece. They kissed once, twice, three more times, before parting and finding each other’s necks, burying themselves to hide away.

“You’re like a dream, you know that?” Eddie breathed, stroking her lower back with his fingers as his lips moved against her collarbone as he spoke. Their chests were pressed flat against one another, the hammering heartbeats taking time to sync. Y/n shook her head, her nose grazing the skin covering his jugular. “I’m far from it, Eddie, but you sure make me feel like I’m in one.” She smiled against him.

Eddie pulled back to kiss her forehead, her nose, and then her lips again, “Y’know you could spend more time here in dreamland if you gave me your phone number.” He sighed, his nose still resting against hers.

Y/n closed her eyes and drew her brows together like a curtain, the words and thoughts fleeing from her mind as soon as she wanted to use them. “What? What is it?” He asked, backing up to look at her better, removing the sheet from their heads.

“It’s not—I wasn’t, I don’t give my number to guys I meet at the bar,” she stumbled out, sitting up and holding the sheet over her chest, the exposure too vulnerable now. Eddie’s eyebrows raised, leaning back to listen and sit next to her.

“But I also don’t come back for seconds, like ever. Truly, the men in the bar scene of Indiana aren’t anything special, but.. but you are.” She shrugged. “I do wanna give you my number, Eddie, I just—”

BANG BANG BANG

“Yo, love birds, we gotta get going!” Gareth’s voice rang from the outside of the van, several pairs of hands battering against the two doors at the opposite end of the cab. Y/n and Eddie jumped, the boy diving to the mound of their clothes and tossing them to her lap as they hurriedly searched the pile and tugged on their clothes.

Y/n zipped up her dress as Eddie buttoned his jeans, tossing him his shirt as she grabbed her shoes to pull on and lace the quickest she could as they listened to the echoing laughter from outside.

She slung her jacket around her shoulders, fixing her hair and collar as Eddie pulled his shoes on but not bothering to lace them. They looked at each other in silence before Eddie reached out to smooth her hair and wipe the runny mascara from beneath her eyes. “Perfect.” He mumbled, his forlorn look breaking her heart as he opened the doors.

“About time! You know time doesn’t stop when you’re in there, right?” Mollie teased with a cigarette between her fingers. Y/n rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, turning to Eddie.

“You gotta pen?” She asked him, a smile reaching her eyes as his lit up. “Does anybody have a pen?!” He turned and hollered to their friends occupying the alley.

Jeff immediately held up a pen as the others searched their jacket and pants pockets, the girls looking in their wallets and purses. Eddie caught the pen with ease, holding out his hand patiently, his eyes never leaving hers.

She carefully wrote out the numbers, making sure to write clearly and roundly. “Calling after.. 8.. works the best. But… if you call before then.. I think I could manage.” She bit her lip as she placed the pen in his hand, melting at the smile he sent her; as if nothing else on the planet mattered more.

Eddie leaned down and gave her one last strong and lingering kiss, his hands wrapping around her waist and squeezing as her arms found his neck.

The headlights of Stella’s car flashed them twice, ceasing their kiss, “C’mon, Y/n/n, we can’t keep your boy waiting!” Mollie yelled over the engine noise, her words sending an atomic bomb to Eddie’s heart.

His heart stopped in that moment, looking from the car to the girl in his arms. “Your boy?” He asked, releasing her and stepping back, the look in his eyes now replaced by one of unfamiliarity, as if he were looking at a stranger. Y/n shook her head, panicked, “Eddie, no, that’s not it—“

“I should’ve known—you know, you could’ve just fucked me the one time and let me have that to hold onto, but no, you had to come back here, and make me feel like somebody, and make me think we’re gonna be something, give me, what, a fake number to call when you have a boy at home? I dunno, man, I thought we had a connection or something—guess that’s just me being naive or whatever. Anyway, I gotta go, see ya, Y/n.” He said, turning on his heel and burying his hands in his pockets as he stalked off to the front of the building.

Y/n stood with her mouth open, her stomach feeling like she just got punched. Instead of chasing after him, she scoffed and paced to the car, opening the door roughly and closing it, taking care not to slam it.

“What was that??” Kathy asked, worried. “Before I could tell him about Danny, Mollie mentioned my boy.” Y/n clenched her jaw and turned to Mollie, whose eyes went wide with shock, sputtering out apologies. “Y/n, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I-I can go talk to him! I can explain—“

“No, Molls, it’s okay. He wasn’t willing to hear me out, he can fuck off. It doesn’t matter.” She said, her walls raising with her arms across her chest and a stone look set on her face.

The car was silent, the girls looking amongst one another for words to give in order to fix the situation for their hurt friend. Instead, they drove home, Dio on the radio, their friend wordlessly leaving the car and entering her home without a glance back.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple days later, Robin stood at the Family Video counter with Steve, the store phone between them as they listened intently to Y/n’s voice recount the events of Friday night over the receiver.

Steve made reactive facial expressions and mouthed questions like ‘Danny who?’ Or ‘Eddie? Our Eddie?’ while Robin took care to keep her hand over the mouthpiece to avoid blowing Steve’s eavesdropping operation, besides, what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t let him in on the family drama, especially since it involves Eddie.

“—He didn’t even give me the chance to tell him my boy isn’t a man! Can you believe that? I mean, if I had a man why would I be trying to explain myself?” She vented exasperatedly over the phone. Steve looked up through the windows at the parking lot noticing the familiar black van parking and elbowing Robin to notice.

Robin gasped as her eyes narrowed on Eddie’s approaching figure, holding a stack of movies to return. Robin set her jaw determinedly, “Y/n, I’m gonna have to call you back—yeah, a customer's coming in and I have half a mind to rip him a new one.” She hung the phone up as the bell rang, her eyes trained on Eddie with a cold fierceness he’d never seen before.

“You sure have a lot of guts coming in here after what you did.”

“Hey, Robin.. you okay?” He asked tentatively.

“I’ll be fine, I just take it pretty personally when it comes to my family.” She shrugged, accepting the pile of returns he sat in front of her and tossing them in the return pile. “Uh, Robs, you gotta check those in.” Steve said, pointing at the pile that would soon get a late fee if not checked in properly.

“I’ll decide later if I wanna check them in or not.” Robin snapped, her eyes unwavering from Eddie’s as he stood confused, looking at Steve for help. Steve raised his hands in surrender, “Hey you fucked her cousin, not mine!”

Eddies eyes widened, looking back at Robin in shock. “W-w-wait, Y/n is your cousin??” Eddie shook his head in disbelief as Robin shook her head, “No, actually she’s not. Her son is though.” She nodded matter of factly as the information set in for Eddie.

“Her, what??” He asked.

“You remember my cousin Adam? His picture’s, like, everywhere in my mom’s house?” She asked, leaning forward.

Eddie nodded, remembering the circumstances of Adam’s death, yet still confused as to why this has anything to do with Y/n.

“Adam and Y/n were together, like forever. As long as I knew Adam, I knew Y/n—I’m talking practically married, Ed,” She implored, her eyes filling with emotion. “When Adam died, Y/n was pregnant with my nephew, Danny.” She said quieter as Eddie’s eyes shifted to the counter in front of him, his brows drawn together in thought.

He clenched his jaw in disappointment with himself, flipping his hand over and looking at the space the phone number occupied before he furiously scrubbed it in the shower through angry tears that night.

“She started going out a year after Danny was born, but hasn’t been interested in anyone since Adam.. til your sorry ass showed up.” She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest again as he looked up at her sorrily.

“I-I didn’t know, I-I just, when I heard she had a boy to get home to I—“

“—Assumed the worst and left to save face before you started crying like a little bitch? Yeah, I know, she told me everything already. You really hurt her, you know? Do you have any idea how much it took for her to go see you again?” She shook her head at him, noting the worry in his eyes as he took a lip between his teeth and tapped his rings on the glass anxiously.

“C-Can I have her phone number?” He asked.

Robin thought for a moment, grabbing a pen and a post it note, “I’ll do you one better,” she scribbled down an address and handed it to him. “She’s off work today, no plans. Go talk to her.” Robin said simply, grabbing the stack from the bin to check them in properly.

“W-what? Just show up at her house? That’s crazy, Robin.” He held the note and shook his head incredulously.

“Give me the note.” She held her hand out, writing a short note on the back ‘I sent his sorry ass! -Robin’ and handing it back to him. “Here, now she’ll know you aren’t a creep. Now go apologize to her and make her smile again!” She urged, shoving him away from the counter as Steve escorted him the rest of the way to the door.

“You got this, Munson, apologizing for being an idiot is half of your part in the relationship.” Steve closed the door behind him and smiled to himself as he watched the boy jog to his van and peel out of the parking lot.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/n sat outside on the lawn next to the driveway, clad in shorts and a tank top, a rainbow of chalk dust covering most of her skin as she watched Danny scribble over a flower garden she drew for him.

“Look it, mama, I color your flowers!” He gestured to the ground like Vanna White showing a new car on Wheel of Fortune. Y/n made a show of being surprised at the new colors covering her artwork,

“Oh my goodness, they’re so lovely! How about the sunshine? Can you draw one for the flowers?” She asked, handing him a yellow chalk. He took it with a smile and a tongue between his lips as he did his best to draw a circle for a sun.

As she admired the ever changing silhouette of her son’s face, she heard the squeak of breaks coming from the curb behind them, in front of the house. She turned, her jaw dropping at the sight of the black van she was well acquainted with parking in front.

“Danny, come here, I have to go in the house real quick.” She said hastily scooping the boy up and holding his head to her chest as she took quick steps to the sidewalk, “Mama, you’re so fast!” He giggled as she picked up her pace when she heard her name come from Eddie’s mouth.

“Please, can we talk?” He asked louder as she ran inside the house. Eddie’s heart pounded at the sight of her with her child, the boy’s curls and converse clad feet burned in his mind’s eye for whatever reason.

He took a steadying breath and shut the door, walking across the grass and up the porch steps to knock on the door, only half expecting for her to answer.

After a moment he debated walking back to the van and hoping she’d show up at the bar some other Friday, when the knob turned and the door opened enough for her to stick her upper half out, the sounds of cartoons playing from inside.

“Can I help you??” She asked, ferocity burning in her eyes. “B-Before you get angrier, I have a note—from Robin,” He said carefully, as if she were an animal that had him cornered. Eddie took the note from his pocket, holding it out to her and avoiding her eyes as she snatched it up.

Y/n sighed as she read Robin’s familiar writing, knowing she wouldn’t send Eddie to her house for a weak reason. “Okay, let’s hear it.” She shrugged, opening the door slightly wider.

“Okay, well, uh, I’m not sure if Robin’s told you much about my status here in good ‘ole Hawkins, but, uh, no one, and I mean no one, is a fan of me. I’ve been labelled the town freak since I moved here, I don’t have many friends, I repeated senior year three times, I receive part of my income from selling weed, I live in a trailer with my uncle because we’re so broke it’s sad, and I spend most of my time organizing games for a group of high school nerds to play for a few hours on a Thursday night. I am not a prize, I am not someone that gets female attention easily, and then suddenly, there’s you. Singing to my music, smiling at me, laughing at my jokes, making me laugh—listening to me, oh my god, you’re great at that. And you wanted me. I was fully prepared for you to laugh in my face when I asked if I could buy you a drink, let alone get to have the time we had together—twice! Ugh. I just—when I heard ‘your boy’ I assumed—“

“I know you did—“ She said, her breath catching.

“—I was scared.” He whispered, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. “It’s not an excuse, but I just felt so.. disposable.. when I heard that. W-When I said I thought we had a connection I meant it, truly. And I still do. If you’ll accept my apology, cause I’m so deeply sorry that I didn’t listen to you, that I jumped to conclusions, and accused you of being anything less than honorable. You’re amazing, really. Even more so now than I thought you were before..”

Y/n breathed deeply, her eyes shining with tears, as she listened to him. “So what now?” She asked.

“Now, I wanna show you how sorry my sorry ass is and make it up to you. Take you on a proper date, hear about the rest of your life.” He gestured to the house, his eyes glancing behind her to the head of curls he caught outside.

Her son’s wide brown eyes stared into him with a bewilderment that matched that of Curious George. “Especially this part.” He smiled, looking from her back to the boy. Danny walked up to his mother’s leg, holding it and peeking out timidly, though not scared.

Y/n placed a loving hand on top of Danny’s head, unsure of what to do. She didn’t want to be the mom that introduced her kid to everyone, though she knew it wouldn’t hurt if they kept it strictly friendly in front of Danny.

Eddie looked hesitant, like he wanted to do something but didn’t know if he had permission, looking from her back to the boy again, comparing their faces and trying to see what parts of her were in him.

“Uh, Danny, this is my friend Eddie, can you say hello?” She asked, bending down to talk to him, Eddie following suit without a thought.

“Hi, Yeti.” Danny said with a quiet smile and looking down at his shoes, anywhere but Eddie’s face. Eddie smiled anyway, recognizing that tendency in himself immediately. “Hey, Danny, it’s nice to meet you!” Eddie greeted the shy child.

Danny avoided his eyes, “Sorry, he can be a little shy.” Y/n explained as her son hugged her thigh tighter.

“Oh, no worries, I was too. I won’t bother ‘em,” he assured, standing from the ground. “Robin mentioned hanging out with her nephew a couple times now that I think about it.”

Danny’s eyebrows shot up, “Robby?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m friends with Robby, she’s the coolest!” Eddie nodded, looking at Y/n for assurance he was on the same page as her son, she nodded, poorly repressing a smile. “Do you play dragons with Robby, too?” The little boy asked with wonder in his eyes.

Eddie raised his eyebrows this time, “Oh, do I? I play dragons all the time! You play dragons?” Eddie asked, his heart strings tugging as the boy nodded eagerly, loosening his grip and looking up at his mother.

“Can Yeti come in and play?” Danny asked, looking from his mom to his new friend in the doorway. Eddie froze, suddenly feeling as if he overstepped, worried he made it weirder as soon as things started to look up for them.

“Uh, baby, I dunno if he has time today, but, uh—” she looked up at Eddie with the same wide, nervous eyes that he wore to look at her with. “—Maybe we could ask our new friend if he wants to come in for dinner tonight..?” She shrugged as she stood up to her full height.

The silence between them was thick, every other noise around them buzzing more than they should; the cicadas, the tv, the distant traffic noise— it was all suffocating.

“I would love to come over and have dinner.. and play dragons.” He said with an unstoppable smile looking between the two prettiest people he’d ever seen. Y/n bit her lip and guided her son out of the way to open the door further, stepping aside to let Eddie in.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Danny quickly led Eddie on a tour of the house, starting with his room. He introduced ‘Yeti’ to his toys, pointing out all of his hung up artwork scattered about the walls, images of dragons, unicorns, fairies, and knights on grand adventures. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how much of the artwork belonged to Y/n, and where his little brain heard about such creatures and travels.

“This is the bathroom, but make sure you put the seat down and wash your hands or else mama gets frust-ated.” Danny said seriously. Eddie snickered at the information, nodding at the three year old, “Got it, buddy.”

Danny would stop at every shelf to explain the significance of the people in the frame or what the artwork in the movie posters depicted, including names of knick knacks and if they were allowed to play with them or not.

“We can’t have these, though, they’re very ‘portant.” He’d said while holding a ceramic frog that he’d had Eddie hand him, Eddie holding a similarly styled duck with alarm, “We’re not supposed to have these??” He collected the frog from Danny’s outstretched arms, his head shaking ‘no’ as Eddie returned the small figures to their places and ushering the child away quickly.

Y/n got a kick out of watching Danny run Eddie around, but she was even more thrilled when Eddie kept up, showing interest in each thing Danny thought to show him and asking questions even if they went unanswered by the scatterbrained toddler.

“Welcome to the family room!” He announced, bringing the tour back to the front of the house.

Eddie scanned the room, looking into the kitchen at the angel cutting food at the counter, her eyes flashing up to his with a small smile as he felt a tug on his hand to look at the pictures on the mantle.

“That’s my Gigi! And Robby, and mama, and my daddy!” Danny pointed to the smiles in the dusty gold frame, scrubbing his small index finger over the glass to see everyone clearly.

“Oh yeah? You sure look like your dad, don’t you?” Eddie asked. Danny nodded, “Do you look like your dad?” Danny asked. Eddie puffed his cheeks out, thinking about the old man’s face the last time he saw him, before he drove away from the Forest Hills trailer park eleven years ago.

“Kind of, but my uncle tells me I look a lot like my mom.” He mentioned, unaware Y/n was busy in her head figuring out what parts of Eddie belonged to his mother, and then wondered where she was.

Danny nodded, “Where is your mom?”

Eddie balked, his head snapping up at the silence of Y/n’s knife against the cutting board. She stood behind the counter with a similar expression to Eddie, the two silently drowning in embarrassment.

“Uh, I’m not sure! I never really had one, but that’s okay! Sometimes people don’t have moms, you know? Keeps things interesting! I have an Uncle Wayne instead of a mom and dad.” He shrugged. Y/n released a breath she was holding, the tension melting from her shoulders as her heart warmed at his explanation.

“Ohhh, right! Like I don’t have a dad, I just have a mom instead.” He replied eagerly. Y/n’s jaw dropped at her son’s words and rushed around the counter, her chest tight and head empty of words to say to either of the boys in her living room.

“Danny, that is an.. astute observation..but you do have a daddy, he just couldn’t be here, that’s all.” She managed to keep her voice steady and casual as she looked at her confused little boy. “Ohh, right, that’s what Gigi told me.”

“I’m sorry—” Eddie shook his head in a whisper as she stood and looked at him with wide eyes. “No, no, I’m sorry—he tends to ask the questions no one else wants to.” She shrugged with a tense smile, leaning over to turn on the television, hoping Sesame Street would be on by now.

“Hey—those are the best kinds of people, very honorable and caring, too.” He nodded assuringly, putting her nerves to rest in the easy way he could. Y/n sighed and nodded back to him, walking back to the kitchen counter and pulling out a stool for him to sit on next to her as she cut vegetables.

Eddie’s cheeks warmed as he left the family room to sit on the seat reserved for him. “Take off your jacket, stay a while.” She nudged him with her elbow as she placed another zucchini on the board. Her shoulders tensed again, her demeanor much more focused and rigid than before. Eddie understood more now why she needed to get out once a month—though Eddie planned on changing that if he could help it.

Before he could lay it in his lap, Y/n held out a hand for his jacket. He handed it to her, watching her quick steps to the coat rack by the door, hanging it on a branch of the tree the stand imitated.

Eddie sent her a smile on her way back, his eyes glittering in the dimming daylight as he rested his chin on a content hand. “What?” She scoffed through a blushing smile, setting up her skillet with zucchini, oil, and seasonings.

Eddie shrugged, “I just didn’t think I’d get this far when I decided I needed to know you.” He said and then sighed.

Y/n looked at him for a moment then away with a shake of her head. “You scare me.” She said like a woman unafraid and dusted her hands of the excess spices.

Eddie looked almost offended, though he hoped she was joking. “Not you, too.” He said hopelessly. Y/n crinkled her brows at him as she turned to put the pan in the oven. “I, mean, like, I can’t… figure you out.” She said as she set the timer.

“What’s there to figure out? I say everything I think.” He asked with a shrug.

“Exactly, no one does that. What’s your game here, Eddie, for real, this time.” She asked with suspicion narrowing her eyes.

Eddie shook his head and sputtered for a moment. “I’m just doing what you’re doing, ba—Y/n, shi—crap! Ugh! I’m sorry.” He muttered with a hand clamped over his mouth. Y/n giggled and shook her head at him for the thousandth time, leaning over the same warm stove that made her think of him a week ago this day.

“All I’m trying to say, is that I like you, I like who you are, a lot.”

“And who am I?” She asked curiously.

“You’re kind, and determined, and funny and beautiful. You shoot tequila like a champ, your music taste is top tier, you don’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s okay, I used to not like that either, but-but I think you could be, with me. I hope you could.” He shrugged his shoulder, nervousness creeping in.

“I know you’re a hard worker because you work two jobs and you’re a single teen mother, and I respect the hell out of that, truly! And I like your kid, he’s cool as he—eck. Cool as all get out, really. That’s gotta mean you’re a good mom, having a good kid like that and all. And if it’s cool with you, I’d like to hang around here every once in a while—with my friend Danny and his pretty mom.” He smiled, speaking quieter at the end of the sentence.

Y/n’s eyes glanced to the living room, her son perched on a mound of pillows, sucked into the tv with a blanket covering him. She looked back to Eddie and stepped over to the fridge, away from the doorway Danny was visible through, and nodded at him to leave his seat.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, his quiet smile growing more eager as he bound over to her, her smile sending butterflies rushing through his body as she pulled him in for a relieving kiss. He tried so hard to keep from smiling as her hands found his hair, burying her finger at the nape of his neck while his hands grabbed at her arms and then her waist to pull her closer for the short and passionate embrace.

When she pulled back, she kissed his forehead once before walking over to stir the sizzling pan, Eddie taking his seat happily; sitting and watching her cook just like he’d imagined a week ago, this day.

Part 3

taglist (I’m sorry if it didn’t allow me to tag you!)

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