Tumgik
#I LOVE THE RESULT SO MUCH I COULD CRY I SWEAR
cheesecakethots · 6 months
Text
geto having a cute little non-sorcerer wife that he swears he hates.
he only marries you for your father’s riches, and so when you arrive on his doorstep he leaves the maids to tell you where you’ll be staying; the room furthest from his own.
you’ve been instructed not to so much as look at him, but he finds that he hardly sees you, anyway. you’re more like a ghost that haunts the manor than his wife.
most of the time he’ll happen to pass you sat alone in the garden, dressed in pretty kimonos that have most definitely been suited to his tastes. he hardly speaks to you, the only time he has was when the two of you had accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.
“watch it, monkey,” he had hissed, before continuing on with his day. he later found himself thinking on the nervous expression and faint embarrassed blush that had adorned your face. he had been tempted to smash his head against the wall to rid himself of the memory, as it plagued him the entire evening.
your father starts visiting and he has the basic decency to at least pretend as though he loves you. it results in awkward proximity and unloving kisses to your forehead, at least until your father leaves.
for some time, geto’s not entirely sure as to why you play along. you could go to your father and ask to leave this loveless marriage, could you not? then it dawns on him; your father doesn’t care, and you already know that. geto doesn’t like how a tiny part of his chest aches when he thinks too hard about that fact.
it’s not as though he leaves you locked up in some basement, withering away. you’re allowed to explore most of the manor, most of your needs can be met by asking the maids and very rarely he will permit you to visit the nearby town marketplace with some guards.
he starts seeing you more. he’ll sometimes find himself out in the garden, pretending that he has any business outside other than to keep an eye on you. he’ll never admit it, but it can sometimes calm him down, just watching you go about your day. to him it’s like watching a pet trot about, not realising their owner is watching with keen eyes. you’re still just a useless monkey, of course.
one day he discovers you crying in the garden you love so much. he’s never seen you cry before, hell, he’s hardly seen any emotions on you.
“what happened?” he finds himself asking before he can stop. you jump in your seat, not having expected him to be beside you.
“nothing, really,” you say, your voice still shaky and your hand wiping away at drying tears, “i’m sorry to have bothered you.”
he frowns, his patience quickly wearing thin. “tell me, now. what happened?”
you sigh, and some part of him can’t help but note how pretty your eyes look, despite the redness around them. he pushes the thought out before it can properly settle.
“my father sent me a letter,” you confess. “he’s… not happy with me.”
he steps closer to you. “why?”
you hesitate, your mouth opening and closing, but the expression he wears has you telling the truth.
“he wishes that i was pregnant with your child. i have told him that i am not, and never will be, and he… well, he’s not happy.”
suguru raises an eyebrow. “never will be… ?”
you blush, looking to the floor. “i know that you hate me. it may be easier for you to have a child with another.”
he scoffs.
“i don’t-“ geto pauses himself. “do you really think i’m the type of man to have a bastard with some whore?”
“w-well, no, but-“
“do you wish to stay married to me?”
you gulp. “no. i don’t.”
he pauses for a moment, seemingly considering something.
“if you give me a child, i’ll allow you to leave. you’ll still be married to me in name, but you won’t have to stay here, and you won’t be tethered to your father.”
your jaw drops for a moment, and then you collect yourself. “will i be able to see the child after i give birth?”
“sometimes,” he tells you. in reality, he doubt he’d ever let you near them, but you don’t need to know that.
“… okay.”
he finds it harder to convince himself that he hates everything about you when he has you beneath him, your ankles on his broad shoulders and your hands pressing against his back. he can’t help but fuck you even faster when hearing you whine and mewl. he wants to lick the expression you have off of your face, but refuses to indulge in the idea.
“su-su-suguru!” you cry. he stills inside you for just a moment. it’s the first time he’s ever heard you say his name. he was beginning to think you had forgotten it.
he grabs onto your wrists with one hand, pressing them above your head and manhandling you into another position, one in which he can somehow go even deeper than before.
he chuckles, low and raspy, “stupid fucking monkey…”
he’s starting to wonder if maybe he needs two kids. maybe four? hm. maybe you do have your usefulness. maybe he shouldn’t let you go, after all.
4K notes · View notes
crheativity · 3 months
Note
Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?
SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?
WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!
COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!
Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.
After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.
Tumblr media
Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.
As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.
(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)
Tumblr media
Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.
He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.
(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)
Tumblr media
Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.
At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.
Just like you, he hopes.
Tumblr media
Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.
If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.
If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?
Tumblr media
Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.
Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.
Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.
Tumblr media
Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.
He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”
Tumblr media
♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
1K notes · View notes
belokhvostikova · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Your secret fling with Eddie Munson hadn't gone entirely under wraps, particularly to the know-it-all, Dustin Henderson. With the help of Robin and Steve, the three conspire to reveal the truth, resulting in two of the most awkward people going on a date together...
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, slight crying, alcohol consumption, awkwardness, insecurities, closeted sexuality, implied coming out, secret relationship, and some explicit sexual content: fondling, mention of porn, mention of oral, and unprotected vaginal sex (fairly minor, not the focal point).
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | This piece has literally been sitting in my Google Docs since June 26th, because when rewatching Friends, I though it would be a cute idea for a fic, so you'll see a lot of lines and parallels from the episode (season 5, episode 14). It's devastatingly unfortunate Matthew Perry passed when I was finishing this up. So, in memory of him and a toast to friendship, here is this fic. Be safe, appreciate life, and enjoy <3 I love you all.
𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
Tumblr media
“Did you guys see that?!” A pointed finger of accusation was targeted against Eddie Munson, completely oblivious to his knowledge. 
Steve Harrington had grimaced at the mush that was once a solid cheeseburger residing inside the slobbery mouth of Dustin Henderson, as the kid spoke with such urgency, clearly unperturbed by his lack of food etiquette and social decorum. But such skills could not be expected much from Dustin Henderson. That is unless, of course, an actual adult of authority had been in the presence, to which a gummy smile was expected to assuage whatever insulting comment about the need for manners that “The Hair” would proffer in disgust. 
It was the second Saturday in a row that Steve’s been bombarded by the abuse of the children to let his residence be used for a pool party. He doesn’t understand how exactly he lost the backbone to say no to four teenagers, but the phenomenon had manifested into reality, and at the very least, a compromise was made for the young adults—of whatever weird mesh of a friend group this was between older teens, younger teens, crossover shebang—to tag along for a hot afternoon of relaxation.
“Yeah, Eddie’s hair totally looks like a wet mop.” Max Mayfield snickered between her sips of a twisty-straw-in-lemonade action. In truth, seeing lushes locks of black stick to his face and neck was quite amusing, especially when made worse as the metalhead re-calibrated like a dog, shaking his hair as a means of getting rid of the chlorine water that weighed down his head. One that could always get a good chuckle out of anyone. 
“No! Not that! That!” The ghost trail that was of Eddie Munson walking inside the Harrington villa, as pointed to by Dustin as a means of evidence, did little to provide any context of support to whatever it was he was avowing about this time. In many instances, those close to him knew to just let his diatribes continue without interference. The kid’s standards were impossibly high; people’s mistakes of simple wrongdoings were always criticized by his superiority. ‘“Oh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick.’” Dustin mimicked, mocking the voice of his Dungeon Master with dramatic gestures of flailing arms. A testament surely to get his character killed in next week’s campaign, should he have been caught by the man. 
“Yeah, Dustin, that’s kinda, like, a natural occurrence in life.” Mike Wheeler deadpanned with a patronizing voice to annoy, as it’d been known to exasperate his friend. It’d even gained a couple laughs from the lounging bodies strewn about in the breadth of the gardened backyard. 
Lucas Sinclair had jumped at the opportunity to prod further, barking a deafening cackle. “Yeah, remember that bomb you dropped after the school’s attempt to serve enchiladas?” He slapped his knee with joy. “You had the janitor running from the stalls!”
That one really got a good laugh out of everyone. But before Max could even venture at an attempt to cater for further details, Dustin struck on offense to defend his honor from the sharings of his intimate privacy, definitively emphasized with an agitated tone of vexation. “No, no! You pinky swore that you’d never speak of it! Do I need to tell everyone what Erica found under your bed?!” Old reliable; blackmail, the bargain of a lifetime.
“The hell is under your bed, man?” Steve pondered, flipping a seared patty with a slab of American cheese ready to go. If it was anything like what was under his bed, he’d surely want no one to know.
“Nothing!”
“What I thought.” Dustin muttered with a glare, as Lucas shrunk in his chair to evade any potential threats of further questions that lay on the tips of his friends’ nosy tongues. “But again, that is not what I am talking about.”  
Always the civil one out of the Wheeler clan, Nancy reassuringly stepped up to support her brother’s friend in need, settling everyone down. “We’re sorry, Dustin, go ahead.” It was to be expected she’d gain a heartfelt thank you from Dustin Henderson, himself, once the debacle simmered and the turbulence had passed. Nancy Wheeler always did have a special place in the kid’s big heart, particularly after the caring gesture of the 1984 Hawkins Middle’s Snow Ball Dance. 
“How can you all be so blind?!” Dustin seethed. “You’re telling me none of you find it even a little suspicious that Eddie just so happened to go to the 'bathroom' right after Y/N’s excuse of wanting to 'change,' like, hello?!” He huffed. “They’re totally screwing!”
Dustin Henderson felt devastatingly vanquished when a unanimous vote of disbelieving what’s hurtled his way with no mercy. He felt useless- undermined. Like the bag of Fritos left behind when children would rather fight over Doritos or Sour Cream n’ Onion Lays, rather than appreciate the artistry of a simple corn chip, left alone and forgotten until a last resort when moms took too long to make dinner; never to be cherished in the dark corner of the bulk size box of Frito-Lays. Of course, they wouldn’t believe him. They didn’t witness what he had to tragically witness. He heard it so vividly. So hauntingly vivid. Sometimes, it kept the poor boy up at night. Last week- last Friday- Hellfire’s Friday, such an exhilarating night now befouled by the auditory version of what he learned in the ninth grade compulsory course of sexual education. 
How naive of him to believe your actions stemmed from the kindness of your heart; offering your chauffeuring abilities to pick up the freshman after their campaigns, sauntering inside with a sickeningly sweet smile to pair with your tender greetings, and always wanting to lend a helping hand to the Dungeon Master, because “it just seems like so much to clean.” Puh-lease! The signs had been flashing in his face. The ulterior motives screaming in his ear. What sane person deliberately chooses to waste their time picking up three boys revved up with excitement and sweat after the thrills of Dungeons and Dragon? Jesus, shit, it was Friday night, don’t you have any plans?! Yeah, plans to stick your tongue down their Dungeon Master’s throat. Tainting the sanctity of Hellfire with your debauchery. 
Dustin Henderson had forgotten his dice. Sometimes, he wishes he would have just let the damn things go. 
“God, baby, a quickie- let’s just do it right here real quick.” Eddie’s begging voice vibrated behind the closed door of the drama department, seeping through the open cracks beneath the door, all for Dustin’s ears to hear. 
And he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt- the kid really did. Pet names were far from unusual by use of Eddie Munson. The one instance the Byers dropped back into Hawkins during Spring Break, it was no doubt Will the Wise had to get a taste of the new man running the show, and when Eddie had given Byers the innocent compliment of being such a sweetheart, the kid blushed into oblivion, stuttering a thank you in return. Hell, not to mention the infamous “big boy” that followed Steve Harrington around wherever the man took on motherly duties. So, Dustin brushed it off. But the moment had quickly transpired into something cringe worthy to the fourteen-year-old who didn’t know better. It should have been his cue to run, but the fiery design of his dice cost him six bucks of his chores earning, and they weren’t about to be discarded, as if the sweat of his forehead meant nothing from an afternoon of bending over the mop bucket to clean the kitchen floors. 
There are moments at night when he speculates if this is the doings of the heavenly man above that his beloved, Suzie Bingham, always mentioned; punishing Dustin in consequence of eavesdropping on a private matter that surely was not intended to be heard. But can you really call it eavesdropping when you were merely trying to retrieve your dice? No! You can’t!
“They’re already waiting for me in the car.” You whined against his lips. The figurine that was poking your hip was the last thing accounted for in your mind, as Eddie had showcased you onto the wooden table of the prop room. Lips smeared against yours, his hand had squeezed a chunk of your meaty thigh, bringing you forth to keep you in close company. “We can’t.” Can’t what, huh? Find the dignity to do it outside of school grounds?! Freaks!
“Little shits.” Dustin had appallingly gasped at the insult, feeling the stabbing wound of betrayal hit him in the chest as you laughed along, hand clutched over his heart to appease the pain of such affliction. The dramatics. “Come to my place after.” Eddie delicately kissed loving pecks to your lips. “That way,” his finger trailed up your thigh, “we can have our alone time, and I can finally get a taste of that pretty pu-”
Dustin Henderson knew to run away at that point. Safe to say, the kid never got his dice back.
“Are you insane?!” Motherly hand on the hip, Dustin didn’t appreciate Steve’s disciplinary tone of voice, sounding too much like his mother, Ms. Claudia Henderson, for his liking, as everyone agreed with Harrington’s proclaimed delusion against the boy. “Munson doesn’t have the skills to screw, let alone someone as hot as her.” He chuckled in disbelief.
Oh, boy, was he wrong.
“Mm, j-just like that, uh!” Your pelvis pummeled into the sink, tainting the precisely picked pristine porcelain by Mrs. Harrington, herself, as Eddie rutted his hips into the dampness that was your bikini bottoms to chase a release that was on the brink of snapping.
It was your fault he claimed; prancing in a top and bottom that left little to the imagination. Accusations of your outfit being chosen to taunt him were thrown your way, and your faux innocence only cemented it further. “Fuck- fucking take it—ugh, s-shit—take this fucking cock!” How could this ever be seen as a punishment when your boyfriend was lighting your body on fire with the ecstasy of abusing your g-spot?
Perhaps having sex in the bathroom of your mutual friend was far from the ethical rules of friendship, but the act of secrecy had bred a burning excitement that neither of you could contain. And, given the fact that four weeks ago, Steve had poked fun at Eddie’s singleness—not that Steve had any room to joke, though, at least, “The King” was relishing in the funness of meaningless hookups, something Eddie surely didn’t partake in, he lovingly had you—so seeking revenge in fucking his hot girlfriend in his friend’s bathroom had stirred something menacing in Eddie’s head to truly not give a single care in what he was doing was wrong. 
“Yes! Yes! I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Fingers tightening on the edge of the sink, your heart soared watching the reflection of Eddie’s mouth panting with want, as he fucked your pussy, ready to release his load deep inside. His hands had snaked to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits, groaning as he felt your nipples poke through the coldness of your wet bikini top.  
His hips harshly snapped against your rippling ass. “Cum all over my cock- shit! C’mon, pretty girl, fucking soak me- take all o’ me!” It barely felt as though he was pulling out, merely drilling in deeper and deeper. “I’m gonna cum- fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”
“They are totally screwing!” The curls of Dustin Henderson’s head were on the verge of being ripped out in frustration; all that work he so earnestly dedicated night and day to maintain the silky bounce was about to be all for nothing. “They are! I heard them!”
Wrong choice of words. “You were listening to them screw?!” Robin gagged, triggering an onslaught of ew’s and perv’s- well, really, Max Mayfield had been the only one calling her friend a perv, doing it in the relaxation of her lounging chair, teasing behind her newly gifted heart-shaped sunglasses. 
“No! No!” Dustin shouted in clarification. “I wasn’t listening! I heard them talking about it!” He agonized. “They’ve been doing it for at least a week! Behind our backs!”
“Oh!” Max ventured. “Let’s bet, I say they’ve been engaged for four months, and are pregnant!” She heckled, now clearly just taking the piss out of him. 
“Has the water gone from your ears to your brain?” Robin laughed in his face. Surely the kid was mistaken, right? Aside from her personal himbo—Steve hated the nickname—you and Nancy Wheeler had become her newfound best friends. You know, a united front against the boys, girl talk, the whole shebang about girl code? Secrets weren’t a thing between your three! Granted, Robin, herself, was harboring a pretty large secret that only her himbo knew of, but that was different! Boys were nothing, she would gladly hear about all her friends’ boy problems, indulging in the drama of long distance or whatever the hell there was to complain about, but girls?! Yeah, that was, uh, that was just something- a topic still unbreached… at least, until she was ready.
“Fine!” The boy heaved, bailing out on defending his stance any further. “You guys don’t wanna believe, that’s just fine.” He snided. “But when they come back, and Y/N hasn’t changed out of her bathing suit, you won’t be laughing now!” Dustin Henderson ended his tirade with an embittered bite to his burger, dramatically dropping into his pool chair. 
They’d all learn soon, and bow down to him. 
So now, everyone waited. Waited for the fateful moment that would either prove Dustin Henderson right or wrong. And unfortunately- for you and Eddie, at least, your steamy escapade on the sink of the Harrington bathroom had left you too dazed and forgetful in the post-orgasmic bliss that was heavy breaths and loving touches of aftercare to keep up with the said excuse of “changing out of wet clothes” that got you alone with Eddie Munson in the first place. So when you marched out, glowing and relaxed—exactly two minutes and thirty-four seconds after Eddie’s “bathroom break” (so thoughtfully executed)—in the same damp bikini that had your secret boyfriend riled up to begin with, everyone gasped. 
“What?” You looked around confused. 
Unbeknownst to you, Dustin Henderson took a cheesy bite of his burger, loudly sipping a carbonated gulp of his cold Coke, ready to snap his fingers for another round of meals for his peasant friends to fetch. 
He was right. 
-
Robin Buckley confirmed it next. 
That Monday to come, Robin was staggering over the words of Dustin Henderson, and trying to piece the evidence presented to understand what was transpiring in your double life. The events after your return from “changing” left you confused by the jarring stares of six pairs of eyes testing you. Nancy, with the softest approach, had questioned you on the lack of new clothes on your body, to which your knight in shining armor—or accomplice—stepped up to save you from the army of prodding friends. “A knot in my hair, yeah, I distracted her to help me get a knot out of my hair.” Sure, Eddie, sure. 
During the uproarious minutes of lunchtime, you’d been ready to get an afternoon break from school to fork through Hawkins High’s poor excuse as to what constitutes consumable food, when the sudden scrutiny from Robin Buckley began. And, my god, was she persistent. 
In the comical marching band she suited, Robin Buckley had rushed her attempt to the first approach. “Hey, Robs. You think I can borrow your notes for Civics, I-”
“So, I hear Jonathan’s coming back from California next week!” Something about rashly eating the served cut peaches seemed to play up to the normal act Robin was going for, but truthfully, it just made you eye her strange behavior weirdly.
“Oh.” You accepted the out-of-nowhere information. Maybe you won’t do so good on Mr. Vortroski’s test on Supreme Court cases as you originally thought. “That’s great for Nance-”
“Isn’t it?!” The enthusiasm she was exerting was truly taking it over the top. But Robin Buckley had a heart for caring, and perhaps the excitement for her friend was really bubbling up today. “Nancy said they’ve been planning, like, a lot of dates, you know, to catch up on lost time?” You casually nodded along. “Single dates, double dates… and then I was thinking, hey!” She perked. “Y/N’s young and good looking! She’s probably seeing someone! So are you, I don’t know, seeing someone? Anyone? Tall, dark hair? Anyone?”
“Uh…” Yeah, maybe the hastiness of Robin’s impetuous nature wasn’t the best route to go with. “No, um, no I’m not seeing anyone.” You gave a tight-lipped smile. “Nance and Jonathan are gonna have to find someone else to double date with- oh, maybe Steve! What’s that girl's name he’s been seeing, Brenda? Beatrice? Actually, you know what, it’ll probably be really awkward to ask your ex-boyfriend on a double date with your current bo-”
“You’re seriously not seeing anyone?!” Robin’s brows furrowed with frustration. You were lying to her face- you were lying straight to your best friend’s face! “Nobody? No one?” You begrudgingly shook your head. “No thing?”
“Robin,” you chuckled, “is there something you want to tell me?” There were lots of things Robin Buckley wanted to tell you. Like, for starters, the newfound revelation that she likes how she looks with mascara, after you left yours on the dresser of her bedroom during your sleepover two weeks ago. She had no plans of returning it back to you, either. Or, possibly the fact that Bridget—the actual name of Steve’s newest lover—stole his Farrah Fawcett hairspray- or the fact that Steve uses Farrah Fawcett hairspray. Maybe the other thing, as in the strange occurrence that happens to her heartbeat whenever Vickie from chemistry happens to be around. Or, the other other thing, like the fact that she spent an obscene amount of minutes staring at cover of “Scissoring with Seduction” starring Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond, after organizing the adult films section at Family Video- actually, scratch that, she’d never tell a soul about that, not even Steve Harrington. 
“Is there something you want to tell me?” She shot back with fervency. 
“No…?” Your questioning answer had your friend igniting her dramatic flare, slumping in her seat with a defeated huff. Dustin Henderson would surely be owed a duly apology. At this point, you’d like to say this weirded you out, but you lived in Hawkins, Indiana. You’ve seen weirder. 
Evidently not sufficed with your response, your friend sat up onto perched elbows. “Y/N, you know you can tell me anything, right?” A sincere approach. Undoubtedly better. “Like, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me stuff. I won’t judge or anything.” Robin solemnly smiled at you. 
Your tender hand squeezed her arm. “I know.” You beamed. “I hope you know that the same goes for you, Robs. If you ever have anything you need to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen to you. Probably give you way better advice than Stevie.” You both chuckled at the expense of Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley understood the feeling of not being ready for the world to know, because knowing would change the dynamics of life, and having the world suddenly perceive you in a way they never have before was scary. 
Having the world hate you for the tender love you caressed your partner with was terrifying. 
You’d tell her when you were ready, just as she would with you. 
With a nod to her head, she patted your hand. “You know, I asked Steve once on tips to upgrade my look, and he legit told me to do my eyebrows like Pamela Anderson.” 
“The himbo, himself, is too unknowledgeable to know that Miss Anderson is the only one capable of pulling off the blonde bombshell look. Though, I would love to see him with pencil brows and blue eyeshadow.” You both laughed, before you reached over to pinch her chin. “Plus, your beautiful self doesn’t need any changing, Robs. Anyone would be lucky to wake up next to it.”
Yeah, she’d simply tell you when she was ready, just as you would with her.
By three o’clock, Robin Buckley had been worn down by the insufferable compulsion that was Mr. Heizer’s fifth period calculus class. With the last day of school being around the corner, Robin wondered what warranted Heizer’s balding head to be so miserable that he felt the need to subject his students with the abuse of derivatives. Trudging her feet against the pavement of the Hawkins High parking lot, Steve Harrington had came into view, where he brandished himself atop the hood of his car. Not the most irregular of sights, given the systemic routine of drop off and pick-up that had been structured for Monday through Friday, though today, Dustin Henderson had managed to find Steve’s BMW through the array of parked cars, and was found yapping his ear off. 
So sorely critical-looking, Robin couldn’t help but tiredly chuckle. “What’s with the wrinkles, kid?” She approached.
Dustin huffed, letting his arms dramatically drop to his side in desperation. “Steve won’t go along with my plan!”
“What are you even doing here, Dustin, isn’t your mother, like, first in line at the car riders pick-up?” She laughed. 
Steve exasperated. “He waved off his poor mother, like the lunatic he is, just to track me down and tell her I was giving him a ride!” He answered, propelling Dustin to gasp with a snide.
“So we can talk about the plan!” Dustin provoked the Italian—that he probably didn’t actually have—within him, as his loose fist shook in Steve’s vicinity. 
“What plan?” Robin interjected. 
“The plan to expose Y/N and Eddie!” Dustin stressed. 
“Eddie and Y/N are not screwing.” Steve deadpanned. “What happened Saturday was just… some fluke coincidence, not proof to anything, okay? So let it go, Dustin. Just face it, you were wrong.” He chuckled a very much unappreciated chuckle in Dustin’s face. 
“I am not wrong! I know what I heard! How many times do I have to be right on the money for you all to just trust me?!” Neither Steve or Robin appreciated the numerous stares the freshman was gathering from leaving classmates and faculty. 
“Okay, just calm down, alright.” Robin shushed. “You're right-”
“Ha!”
“But I don’t think we should do anything.” Dustin heaved, scowling at Robin as if she just committed sacrilege. 
“Are you crazy? Of course, we should totally do something!” Dustin retorted. “This is big news! Two of our best friends are dating! You know what this means?! I could have parents, Robin, and you know I don’t have a dad, do you really want to be the reason I never have a dad?” A pointed finger targeted her. 
Her hand worked swiftly to smack his accusing finger away. “Eddie is not your dad, Christ, he’s not dating your mom.” She annoyingly sighed.
“Yeah, and also, I’ve known you for way longer. If anyone’s gonna be your dad, it’s gonna be me, not Munson.” Steve exhorted with ire. 
Dustin mockingly laughed. “Please, you and mother have the same hips.” 
Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were too engrossed in their conversation to bring any of their attention to Steve Harrington’s insulted gasp. “Look, Dustin, I already tried asking Y/N about it, and she’s just not ready to talk about it.” She explained. “Let’s just drop it until they’re ready to tell us.”
“Okay, but we can help them talk about it.” The kid returned with retaliation. “You know how great it was to see Nancy and Jonathan finally get together?”
“Which came at my expense, by the way.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t know why that brings you such joy.”
“Well, this is Y/N and Eddie, it’s even bigger!” Dustin smiled. “Look, all I’m saying is that a little encouragement never hurt anybody.” Call the boy annoying, he already knew that, but his intentions were coming from good faith. The notion of helping his friends find love- or more so express it, had him bubbling with excitement. “And the only way to get this love story rolling is if we get them to crack.”
Steve groaned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, we have to make them break first.” Dustin was beginning to get his crazy eyes, something about conspiring a plan had him menacingly smirking his enthusiastic grin. “You know, trick them into telling us.”
Robin sighed, drilling the palm of her hands into her eyes. “Okay, you know what? Do whatever you like, Dustin, but I will not be a part of this plan.”
“Of course, you will!” Dustin implored with desperate hands grabbing at her arms to shake with emphasis. “You’re the one who’s gonna have to flirt with Eddie.”
Robin and Steve blurted in disbelief. “What?!”
“Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it.” Dustin rationalized. 
“Woah, woah, wait a second, what makes you think she wouldn’t go for me?” Steve plowed on, his ego taking an obvious hit by a child six years his age. “I’m a total catch, the ladies love me!” He argued. “And Robin, she can’t flirt with Eddie, she’s… uh, well, she- she just can’t!” He stepped up to try to help his friend, much to Robin’s appreciation.
Dustin sighed, placing a tender hand upon Steve’s shoulder. “Look, Steve, you gotta get over this crush you have on Robin-”
“I do not have a crush on Robin!” Steve flung Dustin’s arm away. “And back to this ‘Y/N not going for me’ thing, I can totally flirt with her to get her to crack!”
Dustin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he was the adult in this situation. “Steve, c’mon, she calls you himbo behind your back, she probably thinks you have no personality.” 
“I have personality!”
“No, you have hair!” 
In the midst of the commotion, Eddie Munson had sauntered his way out of the double doors, cigarette in hand to relinquish the stress brought upon him throughout the day. Despite the matter that his van had been haphazardly parked on the west end of the parking lot for reasons being that your pretty self always used the end doors for the less crowded purposes—sue him, he loved the view—there was always something about Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson arguing that always brought happy entertainment for the metalhead. 
“Trouble in paradise?” His croaking voice startled the group, as they all looked at him stunned. “Jesus Christ, what’s with the faces?” Eddie laughed, as his cigarette scraped along the wetness of lips. 
“N-Nothing.” Robin awkwardly had to offer, forcing Eddie to raise a brow at her.
And then he spoke. Dustin fucking Henderson spoke. “Actually! Uh, R-Robin what were you saying about Eddie just now?” She snapped a deadly glare back at him, to which he gladly challenged with a grating smile that had Steve quietly laughing in the back.  
“You talkin’ about me behind my back, Buckley? C’mon, I thought we were friends.” Eddie lightly jabbed, as he paid more attention to his lighter, which was taking multiple rounds of clicks until it ignited. 
“Nothing.” She assured. “I said nothing.”
“No, no, you were saying something about his outfit.” Dustin encouraged. God, how ethical was it to beat up a child? “About how he… looks nice.” 
Robin sighed, as Eddie gave her a lighthearted smile. “Thanks, Rob, I’m really liking those patches.” He pointed to her sweater, finding nothing but the innocence of friendship in her supposed compliment. 
“A-And something about his large muscles.” A curl of his hair was absentmindedly twirled as to appear uninvolved in the scheme of his mischief, and right as Eddie’s eyes left Dustin with a confused stare, the kid’s arm shoved Robin’s back to coach her further. 
So, Robin Buckley, simply accepted. Though, tapping into her retired career of one year in drama club when she got the gracious role of playing Mrs. Soames in last year's production of Our Town proved to lack any skills training, when attempting to flirt with Eddie Munson had her stuttering like a child learning to speak. Then again, playing Mrs. Soames in Our Town didn’t exactly require her to flirt with her friend’s secret boyfriend who was a man!
“Y-Yeah, Eddie, uh, that m-material.” Robin bunglingly smiled, as a stiff hand touched the leather of his coat. “O-Oh, well, hello, Mr. B-Bicep.” She mentally prepared herself for the moment Steve Harrington would belittle her to death for her lack of flirting skills whenever this mess was over.  “You’ve been, uh, working out?” 
Attempting to give her the benefit of the doubt, Eddie chose to assuage the painful discomfiture with his casual sarcasm. “Ah, well, I try to, y’know, squeeze things.” Eddie recoiled at her over-the-top laugh that appeared too similar to that of Heidi Wilson’s, when she ran into him and Steve in the food court of Starcourt Mall last week, looking to allure his friend with whatever screech that was. “You okay?”
“Uh-”
“She’s just having guy problems.” Dustin interjected, much to Robin’s dismay. Never. Never in a million years would Robin Buckley ever have guy problems. “Go on, tell him.” 
Yeah, Dustin Henderson wouldn’t see the age sixteen. “Well, uh, you know how you’re s-sometimes just looking for something, a-and don’t even realize that it’s, um, right there in front of you... s-smoking a cigarette?”
Eddie looked down at the lit cigarette in his mouth, and quickly stepped back in panic, all while Steve Harrington’s cheeks puffed with laughter, as his sealed lips worked overtime to not guffaw out loud. “U-Um, yeah, okay, I’m gonna go.” Eddie could only spare a quick glance to Robin, before throwing everyone a small wave goodbye. 
Robin Buckley watched him walk away for two seconds, before slowly turning to Dustin Henderson, where he was met with her twitching eye. “You have five seconds to run.”
His mouth fell gape. “But wait, Steve’s my ride-”
“Five!” 
That Monday afternoon, Dustin Henderson spent forty-five grueling minutes walking the three mile hike to his home, as punishment per Robin Buckley’s request. And yes, she did wave him goodbye, when Steve Harrington’s BMW swiftly passed him on the way over. 
-
Steve Harrington confirmed it next. 
And maybe was a little asshole about it. 
Benny’s Burger had become the choice of dinner for the mundane Monday night he was currently enduring, because Eddie Munson refused to hit up the bar, despite the common courtesy that buying beers had become for the twenty-year-old men. At the very least, greasy burgers with a cigarette to follow would be the accommodation Eddie Munson could offer, since Steve Harrington had lost his weekly hookup, because his personal wingman decided to fall into a secret relationship- presumably. Steve was choosing to balance on the fence of whether or not to believe the words of a fourteen-year-old, mostly because if he did, Steve Harrington would become subjected to the sanctimonious behavior of a cocky teenager. 
And who would want that? 
“Lemme do a double cheeseburger with extra pickles, uh, no tomatoes, please. Ooh, with a side of cheese fries, a strawberry shake, and I’ll get that with a Coke, too. Thanks, Benny.” Steve eyed his friend. God, that man could eat. The bustling fan that chilled Benny’s sweaty neck had proffered a wonderful alternative to the sweltering humidity that tinted the large windows with fog. Aside from the burly trucker consuming the two cups of coffee to keep him awake for the night, Steve had all respective authority to slyly grill his buddy on whatever friends-with-benefits-slash-potential-boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic he shared with you. 
Fuck it. “Uh, might as well do the same, Ben, what he said.” The laminated menu went unskimmed, closed off, and collected for the owner to take. 
Assuring the boys their meals would follow out quickly, they met Benny with gracious thank you’s for the service, and Steve Harrington rashly followed the movements of the older gentleman, until his being was out of ear shot, promptly snapping his head back to his friend. “Why didn’t you wanna go to the bar tonight?!” If a sign as to why Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington were soulmates, for whatever reason, needed to be clearer than it already was, the incaution- not so subtle “subtle” approach was reason enough. 
“Uh,” Eddie hummed, forcing Steve’s eyes to narrow in return, “I dunno, just didn’t wanna go for drinks tonight.” He shrugged, flicking at a sugar packet he had no intentions of using. 
Steve raised a brow. “Really?”
The incredulous tone was quite too bitchy for Eddie’s liking, who merely scoffed. “Can’t a guy care about his liver?”
“Ed, there’s a pack of cigarettes hangin’ in your pocket.” Steve deadpanned. “Think organ functionality is the least of your worries.” Unwelcoming to the implied suspicion of accusation behind Steve’s comment, Eddie simply chose to stay silent, finding more interest playing with the provided condiments as trinkets for his entertainment. Steve rolled his eyes. “Y’know, I saw Myra at the laundromat not too long ago.” He scratched his clean shaven chin, playing into his nonchalant bit, that only left Eddie to raise his eyebrows in confusion as to where this was going. “She looked nice; got her hair done, these pretty, little braids, y’know, with the gold cuffs and whatnot.” 
Eddie’s head lolled, enjoying the simple task of his finger tracing the obscured lines of the faux granite table top, when the ketchup label had been read to its entirety. “So?”
“So,” Steve emphasized, “you coulda called her up, y’know, tell her to meet you tonight. How long has it been since you’ve seen her- or any girl for that matter?” He slyly asked. 
“Not interested.” Blunt and suffice, surely enough to ward off anymore of Steve’s prodding questions. 
But Steve merely scoffed. “What, in girls anymore?” 
And in true Eddie Munson fashion, a shit-eating grin consumed his face, devious smile lines and all, as he leaned on perched forearms to invade Steve’s space. “Aw, why? You interested, big boy?”
Yeah, this conversation would be going nowhere. 
As the sparing minutes filled to meaningless conversations, their full course dinners made the quick arrival, and Steve pondered at the various ways a confession could be pummeled out of Eddie Munson’s mouth, which was currently being stuffed to the brim with mushing bites of each food group—minus the vegetables, this was Benny’s Diner after all. There was the ex-fling route, but clearly Eddie wasn’t looking to explore that again; good news for you, at least. That is if anything Henderson claimed was actually true. Little shit-
But wait a minute, that was it! What would Dustin Henderson do?!
He could still hear his grating voice. "Well, Steve can’t flirt with Y/N, she’ll never go for it." As if. Steve Harrington could get you- hell, Steve Harrington could get anyone. Graduating out of the social hierarchy of high school totally hasn’t affected his game… totally. But digressing, if Dustin Henderson could scheme up a plan with no substance, Steve Harrington could, too. If anything, this would make so much more sense, given that Robin doesn’t even like boys. Dustin Henderson didn’t know anything, but Steve, yeah Steve Harrington was way more cunning than some snappy child with no regard for people’s business. Yeah, Steve Harrington could totally do this…
Eddie’s chewing slowed, brows cinched, as he wondered why the hell Steve Harrington had been silently smiling to himself for the past minute. And people saw him as a freak? Fucking weirdo. 
“Hey, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, presumably back to being normal, allowing Eddie to continue to shove his face with a strawberry milkshake covered cheese fry, unperturbed by Steve’s judgemental grimace, “I’m thinkin’ of askin’ out Y/N.”
Suddenly caught in his throat, Eddie began coughing up the fry he just downed, as Steve smiled with such amusement at the torment he just caused his friend. Maybe Henderson was right. “W-What? You wanna what?”
“Yeah, been thinkin’ about it, and y’know, I’m really feeling her.” Steve cocked a smirk that had Eddie’s face scrunching with agitation. “Very smart, funny, really fucking pretty, so…”
“I d-don’t, um- you really think that’s a g-good idea?” Eddie adjusted in his seat, composing the bubbling feeling that stirred terribly with the monstrosity he had just eaten.
Taking a large bite from his burger, Steve grinned happily. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Hunger and entertainment wonderfully satiated on this peaceful, late Monday night. 
Eddie shrugged, sulkingly throwing a stray pickle in his mouth. “I dunno, you’re just friends n’ all.” He mumbled. 
“Oh!” Steve’s eyes gleamed with laughter behind them. “You don’t think friends should date-”
“No, no, no, no!” God, the last thing Eddie was about to do was inadvertently claim your relationship was some end all be all cataclysm, but did it really have to come at the expense of encouraging his friend to date his secret girlfriend?! “I-I mean, like, some friends c-can date, like, um, good friends-”
“So, me and Y/N?” Steve quietly chuckled to himself, as he watched Eddie fret with frustration. 
“No- I mean, I dunno!” He exasperated, as Steve relished in his greasy food with a smile on his face. Eddie’s heart began sinking into his stomach. He understood how demeaning it would be to conclude you as the type to jump into Steve’s arms once he’d make the “inevitable” move. God, for once in his life someone with care to proffer promised him fundamental security, and there was no denying it, he felt. Felt it in your caressing hands, your saccharine words, your devoted kisses, your gentle touches- you touched with such love… at least, that's what it felt like. Does Eddie Munson even know love? He swallowed thickly. “D-Do you even think she would go for you-”
“I have personality!” Steve proclaimed, finger pointed and all, forcing Eddie to shove back in surrenderance, hands in the air, and a confused look to pair. 
“Okay, I’m not sayin’ you don’t, geez.” Eddie clarified, as Steve huffed, raking a harsh hand through his Farrah Fawcett hairsprayed perfection. “J-Just maybe don’t. Like, um, i-if it doesn’t work out, it could get really bad between you two, a-and it would be fucking horrible not to have her in your life at all, you can’t lose her, man.” 
Voice so small and eyes so distant, there was a deep inkling that perhaps Eddie was speaking his fears aloud. Because even in the greatness that was having the privilege of calling you his girlfriend, there was a world full of Steve Harringtons that could provide you with more than what any Eddie Munson ever could. Late at night, when the world could finally offer you both the peace to just be, entangled in arms and legs, Eddie would just stare at you and… know. Know that there is a feeling that scares the living shit out of him that he can’t feel for anyone else. A different type of feeling from the camaraderie of his club, who triumph against the evil of the universe. A different type of feeling from the shoulders he’s cried on of his uncle, because Eddie truly cannot thank him enough. You, you were a different type of feeling. One that left him just wanting to look at you, smell you, touch you, think of you all day. 
This wasn’t just infatuation, god, it felt like pure fucking lo- shit, what would he know. Eddie Munson didn’t know love. 
A sudden wave of regret washed over Steve, as he realized the saddened roundness of his buddy’s eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not gonna happen.” His calm voiced reassured. “I mean, it’s Y/N, why would she ever allow that to happen? Y’know, so what, things don’t work out between… me and her,” he explicated, “doesn’t mean your- I mean, our friendship has to change.” Steve watched, as Eddie nodded along, shoulders slumping in relaxation. “We talk it out, we understand each other, and we move on as friends. Together. We’ll still love each other like that. And, hey, at least we’ll both get a hot hookup out of it.” Okay, maybe he was still being a little shit, but he was only channeling his inner Henderson. Plus, the snapping glare from Eddie was quite priceless. 
“Are you really gonna make a move on Y/N?” His jaw ticked with clenched teeth. 
“I dunno.” Steve smiled, before snapping his fingers with a brilliant revelation, “Y’know what, I saw Robin flirting with you earlier today, how ‘bout we go on a double date?” Yeah, now he was definitely just teasing. “Hell, make it a triple one once Byers and Wheeler head back into town.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Robin was not flirting with me, she was just being… weird.” He pondered it for a second. What the hell was that that happened this afternoon? There’s no way she actually- no, impossible. Could she? No, that didn’t feel right. Well, maybe-
“Hey, do you actually think I have personality?” Oh, Stevie. 
-
On Tuesday evening, the Family Video store saw the little customers it was regularly accustomed to; Mr. Fredrickson, only to be accounted for, slowly roamed the documentary section, particularly interested in the historical segment for his afternoon leisure.
The nub of his cane poked an indent into the carpeted floors, as his supported weight allowed for close inspection of the bolded titles that plastered in an array of colors. Luckily, the lens of his glasses were thick enough to provide him the ability of sight to read what was on display for night, leaving you to mindlessly thumb through this month's issue of Cosmopolitan. “Hm.” Mr. Fredrickson gruffed. “What d’ya make of the Franco-Prussian War, darlin’?”
The Proven Personal Approach to Permanent Weight Loss. An Incredible Shrinking Woman Tells How She did it! Christ. You found more interest flipping back to the written Cosmo’s quiz determining what kind of husband your current rendezvous would make. 
“Uh…” Your back was beginning to ache from finding all support on your perched elbow digging into the counter, letting your cheek fall to your palm. “You did the Napoleonic Wars last time, no? Why don’t you give the French a break?” You skimmed the printed words of the glossy pages.
His wrinkled pointer finger shakingly racked through the tapes, as he took your word of advice. Your eyes were hanging onto the last bit of energy they were enduring to stay awake, but the weight of eyelids inevitably began to win, and it surely didn’t help that the liveliness of your thriving life was partaking in conversations with an elderly man who found amusement in learning about wars. 
But before a potential write up—Keith never found the actual courage to do so, loved to threaten it, though—for sleeping on the job could be scolded, the welcoming bell of the front door rang loudly enough to alert some life back into your body. 
“Welcome to Family Vide-euuawghh.” A guttural yawn ripped out of you, slurring your standardized greeting into an embarrassing mush of sounds. 
With watery eyes scrunched from tiredness, a rushed apology to your incoming customer had proved to fall unnecessary, as a familiar chuckle addressed you back. “Aw, such rigorous labor, working my baby to death, huh?” Eddie Munson, himself, teased, as he leaned to hover over the counter and close to your sluggish face. 
“Don’t tease me.” Your mouth jutted in offense, as you rubbed your eyes to the clear sight of being welcomed by Eddie’s bourbon eyes and a smug curl to his lips. 
His rough-tipped thumb caressed the hairs of your brow to ease. “How can I not when it gets you to make that cute pout at me, hm?”
You piqued with giddiness. “Because I’m your girlfriend.” A label you quickly learned to adore. “And you shouldn’t be mean to your girlfriend.”
Eddie smiled a breathy chuckle, as he peered at your lips. “Yeah, you are my girlfriend, huh?” He proudly verbalized with a husk to his tone. His mouth was itching to say more, pour out all he felt for the girl standing before him, but a counter the size of the world divided the union between two beating hearts of devotion. And manifesting his words of love paved the way for the potential loss of you. But not doing so also did the same. Because he’s learned good things don’t last for Eddie Munson. And what a unless world it would be to lose the profoundness of you. 
God, he wanted to punch Steve Harrington for last night.
Eddie took a deep breath. His bangs landed against your forehead, and scrunched under your nod of confirmation. You are his girlfriend. “Where’re the other two stooges?” He whispered, his breath fanning across your face. 
“In the back doing inventory.” You gladly answered the words Eddie wanted to hear. He bashfully leaned in, though before his mouth could meet yours, you pulled back with furrowed brows. “Wait, ‘other two stooges,’ am I the third?” 
Eddie barked out a boyish laugh, as he watched your faux face of aversion and shock. His large hands made your face feel small as he cupped your cheeks and brought you forth. “God, you’re so pretty.” 
His lips crashing upon yours had wiped your expression of any annoyance you tried to playfully brat out. His mouth moved against yours so languidly, it had you falling limp to his kiss, as he expressed all that he felt with the touch of his lips. Eddie pulled away slowly, leaving you to quietly hum in retaliation and chasing his lips. 
“Sorry.” He chuckled, providing you with one more loving peck. “But, hey, y’know, speaking of the other stooges, uh, Robin and Steve,” he cleared his throat, “you notice anything weird about ‘em, like lately?”
The cafeteria. “Um, yeah, actually.” You contemplated on the thought. “Why, did they say something?”
Nausea hit him like a truck, wondering if "The Hair’s" attempts to get at you were already happening quicker than expected. “S-Steve, he, uh, he said something to you?” Eddie felt his throat dry up.
“Steve? No, Steve’s been Steve, but I was mostly talking about Robin.” Jesus Christ, did you bring peace to his world. 
“Oh, yeah,” He puffed a breath of relief, “um, weirdest thing happened after school yesterday, but I think Robin was hitting on me.” Confusion had been written all over your face, as you pulled back from the counter. “She was, like, totally into me.”
“What?” You chuckled. “No, not possible.”
“Okay, ow.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes, as you laughed, rubbing a soothing hand down his arm in apology. 
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean it like that” you giggled, “but I’m sure you probably just misread things, you know? Robin finds you charming in a platonic way, like with Steve.”
Eddie straightened up. “No, I’m telling you, sweetheart, she was all over me.” He persisted. “I mean, for crying out loud, she was touching my bicep.”
A smug smile took over your face, as you arched your brow at him. “This bicep?” You teasingly squeezed his soft arm.
Eddie scoffed. “Well, it’s not flexed right now.” 
The back storage unit of Family Video had been littered with an influx of tapes, both coated in dust to be long forgotten and pristine with the newest release of what Hollywood had to offer. This year’s box office hit Top Gun starring Nancy Wheeler’s poster boy, Tom Cruise, or the fourteen-year-old The Ruling Class with the musical humor following a priest’s death due to his autoerotic asphyxiation kink? Robin Buckley laughed. Always the latter. 
“God, can’t believe Keith expects us to organize this junk.” Steve huffed, swiping his palms against each other, only to scowl at the specks of dust that floated into the air under the beaming sunlight. “I should be seeing Bridget right now, or Heidi, or taking out Linda, maybe Jeanie, haven’t talked to her in a minute.” Robin rolled her eyes at the endless sex-capades that was Steve Harrington’s love life. Christ, she couldn’t even get a clear sign that Vickie from chemistry wasn’t standing so straight. “Or-or maybe Y/N.” He chuckled to himself. 
“What?” Robin prodded. 
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, last night I was completely bugging out Munson, and told him I was planning on askin’ out Y/N.” Steve laughed, briefly coughing as dust particles blew off the VHS tapes. 
Robin was only left deadpanning in disappointment. “You did what now?” She scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side, I thought we were supposed to let it go?”
“You’re the one flirting with your friend’s boyfriend.” He argued. 
“Because that little twerp forced me to!” The Ruling Class came hurdling to his chest, as she chucked it. 
Shoving old movies aside, Steve grappled onto the box of new releases to shove into Robin’s arms, as he handled the second load. “Look, it doesn’t matter anymore, there are no sides, as much as I hate to admit it, Henderson was right about those two screwing.” Steve enthused. “You should’ve seen the look on Eddie’s face when I told him I was gonna make a move on Y/N.”
Robin huffed. “Okay, so let’s just leave it at that and let them screw in peace- or, even better yet, let’s just tell them we know, so they can have the freedom to do what they want.” 
“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Steve whined. 
Robin laughed at his childish mewl. “And, unless Munson gets rid of the thing in his pants and learns to grow a cup or two, I am not flirting with him again.” She playfully gagged, while reminiscing on yesterday’s events. 
“Please,” Steve derided, “you can’t even look Vickie in the eye, I highly doubt if Munson suddenly grew some tits you’d become some sort of Casanova.” He snorted, opening the door. “Mr. Bicep?” 
Before Robin’s sneaker could step foot back into the main lobby of Family Video, Steve’s grasp onto the collar of her shirt flung her back into the storage room, with a slam to the door. “Are you inane?!” She chastised, while attempting to find her balance with a ten pound box of VHS tapes. 
“Munson’s out there!” He whisper-yelled into her face. 
“Okay, so?” 
“So, we gotta get in there, and stir the pot a little.” His brows danced impishly against his forehead.
Robin’s face dropped vacantly. “What about anything that I literally just said didn’t click for you?” A smack against his head from her hand had him reeling back in defense. 
“Ow, okay, I get it, Munson doesn’t have boobs.” Steve huffed, rubbing out the dulling pain. “But, look, Dustin wasn’t that far off, a little encouragement doesn’t harm anyone. He thinks that you like him and that I like her, you’re telling me this isn’t even a little funny to you?” My god, did Steve Harrington have a charming way of flaunting that stupid smirk that had Robin hold back a chuckle. Because in retrospect, Eddie Munson believing his lesbian friend had a crush on him, while her partner in crime, her himbo, had a supposed liking to his secret girlfriend was quite funny. Funny like a priest dying from his autoerotic asphyxiation kink. 
She sighed, giving him a pointed glare. “One time, Harrington. This is the one and only time I will ever flirt with a man again.” 
Steve threw his hands up in defense, as a smile lingered on his face. “Highly doubt there will ever be a time in which I ask you to do that again.” He laughed, while slinging the door open. “Plus, it’s Munson. I’m sure his cynicism won’t even count it as flirting.” 
“Well, Y/N's flirting surely worked.” She joked, as they stepped out. 
“You think it’s because he has personality or nice hair?” Steve interrogated. “Because I sure as hell have way better hair than him.” 
Despite your alluring face, Eddie caught a glimpse of Steve and Robin making their way over while looking past your shoulder, forcing him to make the regretful decision to back away from you. “Ed.” Your tiny pout of confusion made it all that harder, until Steve’s voice boomed out. 
“Hey, y’know, as a customer, you’re supposed to actually rent something!” Him and Robin joined you both at the counters, where they sat the boxes of movies. “Or, you could, y’know, stock shelves with us.” 
Eddie flipped him the bird, as he smiled. “Actually, I was just stoppin’ by to ask if Halloween is still rented out.” He turned to look down at you with a smirk. “Is it?”
“I can go check that for you.” Your sweet customer service voice had him biting back a grin, as you stepped away to the computer. 
As Steve and Robin began displacing films from the boxes, his elbow nudged her side to grab her attention away from organizing. “Just keep it casual.” He whispered, as she rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m sure if you unfocus your eyes, the five o’clock shadow will go away, and he’ll totally look just like Vickie.” And he huffed right back when Robin rightfully scoffed at him. “What? They have the same eyes… just, y’know, different color… and shape.” 
Robin waved him off before anything further could come out of his mouth. With The Fly nestled in her grasp, Steve threw her a nod of encouragement, before scurrying to the shelves with a small laugh escaping his lips. 
“Sorry, Eds.” You clicked off the computer. “Landon K. beat you to it; no Halloween.” 
“Should totally check out The Fly.” Robin slyly imposed, as she handed him the film. “Can never go wrong with some Cronenberg, right?” Eddie inspected the film with a shrug. “Sure, better than taking movie suggestions from Harrington.” 
There came the inordinate laugh from Robin that had Eddie throwing you a knowing glance, and Robin, herself, internally dying inside. “Ha! Always so funny!” She clumsily fist-bumped his arm. “Uh- anyway! Better get back to work.” A large smile flashed both your ways.. “I, uh, I’ll see you later… handsome.” And following in the footsteps of her grandmother when she wasn’t screaming something batshit crazy, Robin Buckley pinched Eddie Munson’s cheek before running away to Steve Harrington. 
“You pinched his cheek?!” Steve contemptuously chortled in her frazzled face that burned with embarrassment. 
Robin’s hands smack her face, dragging the skin down, as she groaned. “Well, I don’t know how to do the whole flirting thing!” Her fist came smacking down at his chest.
Steve bent at the waist with a cramping stomach of laughter “Okay, yeah, but he’s not a baby!”
Your eyes followed Robin’s running figure until she disappeared into the maze of shelves, and you incredulously turned to your stunned boyfriend. With his mouth wide, and eyes bulging, Eddie fretfully spoke. “Okay, did you see that?! With the compliment, and the pinching?!” 
You bewilderedly settled at the realization. “Actually, I did.” You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend was flirting with you boyfriend- well, technically, she had no clue he was your boyfriend, but still- Eddie? Not to sell your boyfriend short, god, he was perfect in every way, but Robin? Robin and Eddie?!
“Okay, so now do you believe that she’s attracted to me?” He persisted. 
You thought for a second, and Eddie Munson watched your face drop with concern, as your hand clutched your chest. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god! She knows about us!” You cautiously warbled, as you began pacing about behind the counter. 
Eddie’s face scrunched with distress. “Are you serious?” 
“Robin knows, and she’s just trying to freak us out!” You belabored, anxiously looking back to where Steve and Robin could no longer be seen. Your hands dramatically dropped at the revelation. “That’s the only explanation for it!”
Eddie vacillated at the unwarranted insult. “Okay, but what about my pinchable face and bulging biceps?” He confidently pointed to his arm, before the lacking muscle of scrawiness suddenly hit him like a truck. “She knows!” 
Your hand comically slapped the counter, as you chuckled in disbelief at her attempt to fool you. “Oh, man, she probably thinks she’s so slick for messing with us.” Eddie joined in, frenziedly laughing, completely feeling stupefied, though giving props to the mastermind, nonetheless. Impressed he was. “But, hey, you know what? She doesn’t know we know she knows, so…” 
“Ah, yes!” Eddie piqued with interest. “The messers become the messees!” 
-
“You sure you kids are alright?” Shrugging on his utility jacket for the night, the aging lines of Wayne Munson’s forehead scrunched with suspicion for the nightly activity his nephew and his supposed “friend” were going to be up to. 
Sure, the sight of you over at his trailer wasn’t something peculiar, in fact, for the past months, you, in particular, were the only one of Eddie’s buddies who made a regular appearance to their humble abode. Why? Well that was a question that still went unanswered whenever Wayne tried to prod into the life of his nephew. But the way Eddie would blush, while simultaneously attempting to quickly change the subject, made Wayne’s throat tickle with a chuckle. 
Who the hell were you two fooling?
But now, with much concern from Wayne, it seemed as though Eddie’s oddities had begun rubbing off on you, as you both strangely huddled around the yellow home phone, clearly waiting for the second Wayne would close the door behind, as he left for the graveyard shift. 
Attempting to “casually” lean against the paneling of the wall, Eddie’s head was quick to snap up and down in return. “Yeah, yeah.” He rushed. “Better get goin’, don’t wanna be late for the bosses.” He threw an overcompensating smile, as you sat at the kitchen table, merely following suit to that of your “friend.” Wayne Munson couldn’t care less about the bosses. 
“Alright then.” The old man huffed, picking up the keys of his pick-up truck, letting the humid spring breeze waft through the front door. “Get ‘er some dinner if you’re makin’ ‘er stay late.”
“As always.” Eddie threw you a sly wink, as Wayne left with a quick exchange of goodbye thrown from both parties, until the front door finally closed. 
At the click, you sprung from your chair, snatching the phone out of the receiver to hand to Eddie, to which he happily grabbed with a maniacal snicker. “You sure she’s over at Steve’s?” 
Your fingers were fervent with the harsh press to the buttons, dialing the numbers to phone the Harrington residence. “Uh huh, something about watching Fast Times with Robin.” The second your finger pressed down on the last digit, you were quick to maneuver the phone against Eddie’s ear. “Okay, just stick to the script.”
Eddie scoffed, flipping his hair back. “Sweetheart, please, I was able to get you, I sure as hell can get Robin.” Your hand met his chest with a chastising slap. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He laughed. 
Up the road, on the secluded sector of Cornwallis Street, Robin Buckley was anxiously plowing through a bowl of popcorn, as the fifty-second minute was fastly approaching, and suddenly Phoebe Cates was climbing out of the pool with the detrimental ambience of teenage horniness. 
“Here it comes, here it comes!” Steve snickered, as he absentmindedly chewed on a licorice piece. 
Robin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “God, Steve, you don’t have to point out the obvious!” But after forcing her friend to endure two hours and thirty-four minutes of the satirical musical critique of institutional religion that was The Ruling Class, Steve decided to return the torture by subjection of… boobies. 
“What I’m point out is the fact that Vickie lived through this exact moment, meaning she was staring at boobies, meaning-”
“Don’t say it!”
“Vickie likes boobies!” Steve implored, the largest grin on his face, as he watched Robin slap her hands onto her face at a brutal attempt to shield herself from the mortifying experience that was having Steve Harrington as a friend. 
But, in slow motion, as Phoebe Cates’ fingers clutched onto the center hook of her bikini bra, the phone shrilled, allowing Robin to exhale a “thank god,” as Steve’s attention begrudgingly turned to the incoming call. 
Swiftly jumping to the end table, Steve picked up the brick phone. “Yeah, hello?” He spoke, munching on another rope of his candy, surely missing the quick glances Robin was making back at the TV. Steve’s brows piqued at the static voice. “Oh! Yeah, she’s right here!” Turning to Robin, his hand cupped over the speaker, as he giddily shoved the phone to her. “It’s Eddie, he’s probably gonna cave in.” He whispered. 
Rolling her eyes, Robin cleared her throat from any stray popcorn kernel, ready to end this once and for all. “Hello?” 
Back at Forest Hills, your toes pressed against the linoleum tiling of the kitchen floor to push yourself up to his height, smushing your ear against the other side of the phone, as mischievous smiles consumed both your faces. “Hello, Robin… I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day.” Eddie channeled his most suave voice, forcing you to bite back a laugh, suppressing your mouth into his shoulder. 
“Huh?!” Devious as ever, both you and Eddie almost broke at her considerable shock. 
Steve raised a questioning brow, attempting to scoot closer, only for Robin to preserve her personal bubble and shove him back. Much to his nosey dismay. “Well, y’know that thing you said before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” Eddie teased, as you nodded your head along to show your proudness for your boyfriend flirting with your friend. 
Yeah, things in Hawkins, Indiana surely were weird. 
“R-Really?” Robin choked, as the popcorn in her stomach suddenly turned at the uneasiness of male attention. Gross. 
Ever the villain, Eddie smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, listen my uncle isn’t gonna be here tonight, so why don’t you come over, and I’ll let you, uh, feel my bicep… or maybe more.” You quietly chuckled. God, what a cute loser.
Robin grimaced, stuttering with concern. “Uh, you know, I-I’ll have to get b-back to you on that, uh, okay, bye!” She was quick to hang up the phone, while you and Eddie intimately celebrated in the lonesome of his kitchen with silly squeals and tiny jumps. “Oh, my god! He wants me to come over to feel his bicep and more!” 
Steve Harrington was left speechless at Robin’s panicked announcement, as his mouth hung wide. “Are you kidding?!”
“No!” She gagged. “I know what I heard!” 
Steve felt incredulously at the scumminess of his friend. “I cannot believe he would do that to… wait a second.” His brows furrowed. Eddie Munson nearly launched at the chance to shut down any ideas of Steve dating you, why on Earth would he suddenly- oh, shit. “They know!”
“What?!” 
“They know that we know!” Steve clarified, as the gears in Robin’s head turned, until her face was enlightened with the fact of the matter which was that her best friend was trying to deceive her right back!
She gasped. “I can’t believe those two!” Instantaneously, any reservations Robin initially had for Steve and Dustin’s plan had left, as all she felt was dramatic offense at the idea of trying to be demeaned. 
“They thought that they could mess with us?!” Steve proclaimed.
“They’re trying to mess with us?!” In disbelief, both friends chuckled with bewilderment at the unexpected slyness coming from you two. That was, until Robin Buckley schemed with realization. “They don’t know we know they know we know!” 
Steve’s face scrunched with confusion, though nonetheless a team player, he nodded along, giggling at Robin’s wicked implication. Suddenly, a call to the Henderson household was in need. 
Dustin Henderson’s calves burned under the rigorous strain of bike riding from the northern end of Cornwallis street to reach Steve’s house. Haphazardly disposing his bicycle in the driveway, Dustin had barged in with no warning, coming face-to-face with Robin Buckley, resident polyglot band geek, wearing Mrs. Harrington’s blue cocktail dress, as Steve Harrington, retired king of Hawkins High, played makeup artist with his mother’s newly bought red lipstick in hand. 
It was undeniable at this point, Hawkins, Indiana was most definitely weird. 
“Would you just quit moving, so I can put this on you?!” The vein on Steve’s forehead became pronounced under the immense pressure he felt. Being a makeup artist surely wasn’t easy, especially when your client was nagging about the intense blush placement of his work. 
“Enough with the makeup, it’s Eddie for Christ sake!” Robin complained, enduring the endeavor of trying to shove Mrs. Harrington’s shoes onto her feet. God, why was the woman’s shoe size so small?!
“Really Steve?!” Robin and Steve jumped at the intruding voice of Dustin, as the kid stood with his hands on his hips, imitating the signature pose of the man before him. “That’s totally not her color, you’re making her look like a clown!”
Both parties scoffed, rightfully offended. 
Robin pushed Steve away, rubbing her cheeks harshly to blend out the monstrosity that was Steve’s makeup skills. “Okay, this is plenty!” She stressed. “We’re gonna call him, we’re gonna get that date, and we’re gonna win!” 
The boys cheered, Dustin more so heavily appreciative of this new Buckley mentality, as they circled around her when she reached for the phone. “Mm! You better grab a spring roll before I eat ‘em all.” Eddie’s crowded mouth of mashed vegetables spoke. Chinese had been delivered in the wake of your celebration, congratulating both of you for your—mostly Eddie—duplicitously clever work. 
In the midst of diving into your tangled lo mein, the phone shrilled, which had Eddie springing from the couch. “Probably calling back to surrender!” You cheered, as Eddie snickered, sliding his socked feet into the kitchen. “Good job on creeping her out, babe!” 
Eddie bowed, accepting whatever weird kind of praise that was, before answering the phone with a muffled mouth of spring rolls. “Hello?”
“Be sexy.” Steve encouraged, eliciting a scoff from Robin, as she turned her focus onto the phone call. 
“Hi!” Both terribly displeased with her lack of commitment, Robin was met with strict glares from Dustin and Steve to amp it up… so, she did. Clearing her throat, she dropped an octave to obtain the sultriness of what she could only assume Roxie Rockett and Viola Diamond to sound like. “Uh, I mean, hey, you.” Robin Buckley wanted to puke. “So, Eddie, I’d love to come over tonight.”
A piece of pork was hacked from Eddie’s throat, as he choked on his food. “R-Really?!”
Watching his face drop, you stood with concern wondering what was going on on the other line. “Oh, absolutely. Should we say around nine?” Eddie checked his clock. In fifteen fucking minutes?! 
But Eddie Munson wasn’t going to back down. Eddie Munson, Dungeon Master of the great Hellfire, who’s pushed his men to prevail against the nefarious dark lords of villages and towns alike, was not going to be defeated by Trumpet Girl. The man glared his eyes. “Yes.” He tested. 
Robin Buckley accepted his challenge. “Good.” She smiled, as she watched Steve motion for her to crank it up a notch. “Uh, I’m really looking forward to you and I h-having sexual intercourse.” The phone hung up and flung from her hands the second the words left her mouth. 
Eddie Munson’s face dropped. Dustin Henderson gagged. Steve Harrington laughed. And Robin Buckley wanted to crawl into a hole to forever perish in the depths of torturous hell. 
Because that’s what it felt like to flirt with a man. 
-
“Okay, showtime!” Dustin applauded from the backseat of Steve’s car, where Robin scrambled to effortlessly scrunch her hair around. 
“Here’s the perfume.” Steve pushed down the nozzle of the stolen fragrance of his mother’s collection—thanking god for the moment that she wasn’t here—where his finger spritzed numerous doses against Robin, causing the car to invade with the nauseating scent of strong, overpowering flowers. 
Robin coughed. “Alright, quit it! The kid has allergies.”
“I have allergies!” Dustin sneezed. 
Steve huffed in annoyance, watching as Robin unbuckled from her seat. The beaming headlights that had once reflected off the vinyl-covered walls of the trailer had been switched off for stake-out purposes, as Steve’s car parked in the open area of the Munson home in the quiet night. 
“Hand over the wine, Henderson.” Buckled next to the seat of Dustin’s—for protective measures—a bottle of his parent's stolen chardonnay rested like a passenger on board; Steve’s, ever the romantic, suggestion for the authenticity of a real date. 
“Is this really necessary?” Robin truly had no room to talk, she most definitely hadn’t experienced the polarizing events of the dating scene, let alone ones of heterosexual realms (thankfully).  
Scoffing, Steve was galled by the dig at his—for once—knowledgeable expertise of life phenomena. “Are you kidding, chicks go for this shit.” Surely, Bridget, Heidi, Linda, and Jeanie can attest to his opinion. 
“Yeah, well, Munson’s definitely not a chick… unfortunately.” She mumbled. 
“Huh?” Dustin asked. 
Robin was quick to shut up in a panic. “Nothing!” 
“Look, just get in there, and do your thing, alright?” Whatever attempt at a pep talk this was from Steve Harrington devastatingly fell short, as the last thing Robin Buckley expected to do on her Tuesday night was go out on a date with a man, who so happened to be her best friend’s boyfriend. Thing?! What thing?! She couldn’t even stare her crush in the eye for Christ sake, Steven! Robin Buckley has no thing! And Eddie Munson unfortunately does- the repulsing (to her) kinda thing that Robin Buckley doesn’t even like! She huffed. “Just take it easy. The second Munson lets you in, we’ll sneak up to the door, and hear through there.” 
On the edge of his bed, Eddie Munson let your hands wander about, until his appearance was up to your liking; voluminous hair, controlled friz, straightened shirt, and a bottle of minty mouth spray that he coughed at, but necessary for the prevention of spring roll breath. “Okay, you’re gonna be great!” You motivated him with the words of encouragement, as you brushed away his stray hairs. “You just make her think you want to have sex with her, and it’ll totally freak her out.”
Eddie straightened up, shaking his body from any jitters, and stretching as if a marathon was in place. “Okay, so how far am I exactly supposed to go with her?” His face etched with concern. 
You waved him off. “Relax, alright, she’s gonna give in way before you do!” If there was anything you learned about Robin Buckley in your months of friendship, it was the blatantly obvious fact that she would shrivel up in awkwardness before anything further took place. 
Eddie Munson freaked at your sudden certainty. “How do you even know?!”
“Because you’re on my team!” You stressed. “And my team always wins!” 
His face scrunched with fret. “At this?!”
Tentative knocking against the front door pulled you both away from the conversation. It was game time. “Eddie,” his head whipped back to you, “you’re the Dungeon Master, okay? This, this is nothing in comparison to dark lord wizard thingies.” God, he knew for certain you didn’t fully understand his interest in Dungeons and Dragon, but the time you took to support him was making his heart beat faster than any fake date with your best friend could ever make him feel. 
You make him feel such incredible things. 
“You’re the master here, you’re in control, you got this!” Jesus Christ, the corny shit your competitiveness was making you say was too fucking cute. “Just go get some!” You finished him with a quick kiss that had him yearning for more, but your body quickly scurried away to the bathroom. 
Eddie Munson sighed. Cracking his neck, he rolling his shoulder. “I’m the Dungeon Master. I’m in control.”
Steve clutched a heavy hand on his steering wheel, as both him and Dustin peered through the windows. “Okay, just wait for it… wait for it… wait- get down!” The boys dropped their heads the second Eddie’s front door opened with a dramatic swing. 
And there she was. Eddie cocked an eyebrow for whatever reason it was Robin Buckley chose to show up overly dressed like a middle-aged woman, and with an awkward smile to taint her image. But Eddie Munson was right there to follow suit with a strange grin to greet her. 
“Robin.”
“Eddie.”
“Come on in.”
“I was going to.” 
As the trailer door closed shut, Steve and Dustin silently crawled their way out of the car with their utmost quietest attempts of closing the doors shut behind them. With crouched stances like detectives on duty, the pair scampered their way to the top of Eddie’s cemented stairs, where their heads pressed against the front door to hear the muffled conversation from the other side. 
“I, uh, brought some wine.” Robin held up the bottle, as Eddie was slightly taken aback. What the hell kinda teenager brings wine to a date? Probably the kind who’s a lesbian, and going out with her best friend’s boyfriend out of competition. “Would you like some?”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Making their way to the kitchen, Eddie secured two cups, as Robin popped off the protruding cork top, and suddenly she felt entirely even more stupid than the fact that she was on a “date” with a man, when Eddie proffered matching Garfield and Odie mugs for glasses of chardonnay. 
The dreadful silence began to take over, and Eddie could only manage to fill it with thorny chuckles, as Robin filled the mugs. “So, uh,” she sighed, “here we are. Nervous?”
“Me? No. You?” He skeptically questioned.  
But Robin Buckley was there to provoke him. “No, I want this to happen.” 
“So do I.” Eddie cleared his throat, before their glasses clicked with a toast, and Robin and Eddie found themselves chugging down the mug-fulls of alcohol to hopefully forget the disturbing night they were about to endure. When cups fell empty, Eddie sighed and turned to the radio that rested atop of the washing machine. “Why don’t I, uh, play some music; set the mood a little.”
Call her inexperience, whatever, but Robin knew there was no way in hell the screeching voices of Slayer attested to “setting the mood” during date night. God, she felt bad for you- for straight women. “Maybe-maybe I’ll, uh, dance for you.” She dared right back. 
Where Robin could judge Eddie on his music taste, Eddie could return the favor in her lack of mobility, as her body began clumsily swaying about in his kitchen, off rhythm to the already undanceable sounds to thrashing metal. Her contorting ankles in kitten heels paired with her jutting hips allowed her to mortifyingly saunter her way over to an uncomfortable Eddie, who was wielding the willpower to not bark a laugh in her face. 
But Robin Buckley was not going to win this. Not when Eddie Munson’s pride stood in the way. “Mm, you look good.” He spoke so stiffly, as he defied back with a taunting grin. 
“Why, thank you.” She forced out a laugh. “Y-You know, when you say things l-like that, it makes me wanna, um, rip that… Weird Al t-shirt right off.” Jesus Christ, Dustin made him get matching ones. 
“Okay,” he cleared his throat, “well, uh, why don’t we move this to the bedroom then?” His brows pointed, eyes glared. 
Robin immediately stopped her bizarre dancing. “Really?” Her panic settled in. 
“Oh!” Eddie quickly stepped back with an impeding smile. “Do you not want to?” He urged. 
“No, no.” Robin composed herself, waving him off with faux confidence. “I just, um, you know, first, I wanna t-take off all my clothes, and have you r-rub lotion all over me.” Is that what straight people do before sex?!
Eddie’s throat constricted with little air, and a tightening hand of embarrassment. “Well, that would be nice.” His voice raised a cracking octave. “I’ll, uh, go get the lotion.” Before Robin could respond, Eddie was already running away to the bathroom. Your gnawing teeth had bitten through your nail when Eddie came bustling through the door. “Okay, this is totally getting out of hand.”  He fretfully groused, as he crowded your area in the small room. “She wants me to put lotion on her!” Eddie dramatically snarled. 
You rebuffed his dread. “She’s bluffing!”
Eddie huffed. “Look, she’s not backing down. Jesus, shit, she went like this!” He suddenly gyrated his stiff hips harshly against you to mimic her dancing. 
A couple feet away at the front door of Eddie’s trailer, Robin was in consternation, frantically rambling to Steve and Dustin. “He is not backing down! He went to get lotion!”
“You aren’t done yet?” Dustin heaved. “You’re supposed to be on my team, he should be cracking right now!” 
Her angry finger flicked against his forehead, despite his insistent cries of pain. “This is all your fault to begin with!”
“Okay, will everybody just calm down for a second?” Steve hushed, where his hands found the relaxing perch against his hips, as if his motherly duties were calling. “Think of it this way, the sooner you get Eddie to break, the sooner this can all be over with.”
“Ooh, I like that.” Robin nodded along. 
“Just amp the flirting, alright?” Steve coached. “Look, it took him weeks to actually approach a girl at the bar, he used to get totally flustered whenever he’d play wingman for me. How the hell managed to get Y/N? I don’t know, but all I do know is that just like you, Eddie Munson is a total dud when it comes to flirting.”
Her mouth fell agape at the insult that stung too much from the utter reality of the statement. It didn’t make her feel any better when Dustin shoved that patronizing look in her face. “Yeah, Robin, sweetie, you are not doing a good job right now.”
“How would you know? You’re fourteen!” She bellowed. 
“And yet, which one of us is in a loving, committed relationship?” The kid snided.
Steve shushed Dustin away before a catfight could break out on the doorstep of Eddie’s home. “Look, you got this. Just make Munson uncomfortable! You’re a girl, you got this!”
“He’s a boy, he makes me uncomfortable!” She spat. 
Ransacking his bathroom cabinets for a bottle of lotion, you hastily shoved the bottle into his grasp, and clutched onto his shoulders. “You go back in there, and you seduce her till she cracks!” Never in a million years did you think you’d encourage your boyfriend to do that. Though with this much commitment, he should really get you into Dungeons and Dragons.
“Okay, just give me a second.” He took a deep breath for composure, just as he got a good glimpse of his bathroom. “Did you clean up in here?!” Your eyes rolled, before grappling onto the doorknob, and pushing Eddie out of the bathroom. He slowly approached the kitchen, where his nervousness eased at the sight of Robin at the door. “Oh, you’re, uh… you’re going!” He smiled.
Steve Harrington's voice replayed in her head, and Robin cleared her throat to pull out the sultry crisp she was needing to flirt. “Um, not without you, lover.”
Eddie flashed her a tight-lipped smile, as he released a big sigh. “Well, uh, come here.” He beckoned. “I’m very happy we’re gonna have all the sex.” 
Robin ignored the disgust in her belly to test him. “Y-You should be.” She smirked. “I’m very bendy.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled with fright, as she stepped closer. “I’m going to k-kiss you now.”
And Eddie bothered her right back. “Not if I, um, kiss you first!” With a foot apart, Robin Buckley made her first move on a man, as her stiff hand latched uncomfortably to Eddie’s waist. Devastatingly following in line, Eddie’s fingertips barely grazed her skin, as they lightly rested onto her shoulder, neither party urging anyone to come closer. “Well, I-I guess there’s nothing left for us to do than to kiss.”
“Here it comes.” With rigid lips tucked inward, and tense bodies hesitantly pulling together, Eddie Munson genuinely began to realize how much of a idiotic idea all this was. A nauseating feeling struck him, as he understood what a lousy world it’d be to live in if he had to continue to disguise his feelings for you. I mean, going on a date with your best friend? This is the lengths he’s going to to hide something so perfect? And Robin. For the love of god, if picturing Joan Jett over Eddie’s face was needed to make this experience slightly less miserable, then, yeah, maybe this plan was stupid all along. 
“Okay, okay, okay! Fine, you win!” Eddie pulled away, as Robin’s face astounded. “I will not have sex with you!” He huffed with exhaustion. 
“And why not?” Robin smiled, as the victory was coming her way.
“Because I’m in love with Y/N!” 
“You’re-you’re what?” The front door jolted open, as Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson hurdled their way in, but Eddie took no notice of the peculiarity in that. Not when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 
“Love her!” He proclaimed at the top of lungs. “That’s right! I love her!” Eddie pointed to you, as you made your way closer. “I love her! I’m in love with her!” And suddenly, the reality of you actually standing in front of him hit him, and Eddie realized the weight of what he just admitted to you… and his friends. Eddie took a deep breath, as he solemnly stared down at you, and in an instant, he felt his body calm at the sight of your smile. “I love you, Y/N.” 
His hands took solace against your warm cheeks, where you stared up at with adoration in your eyes. “I love you, Eddie.” Your arms circled around his neck, as his desperate hands clung to your shirt to pull you into an intoxicating kiss that had you both mewling with tenderness. This was it. Eddie Munson knew love.
That was until Robin spoke. “Oh, my god, you guys! We thought you were just doing it, we didn’t know you were in love!” She gushed. 
Steve shyly smiled from the back. “Dude!” He effused. 
“Aha!” And then there was Dustin Henderson. “I told you! I told all of you! And none of you wanted to believe me! I was right and you were wrong!” He pompously smiled, before turning to you and Eddie. “By the way, I was the first to know! I’ve been knowing for a week after you freaks forced me to lose my dice!” 
Eddie chuckled, as his hands stayed secured around you. “Actually, Dustin, Max was kinda the first to know. She found out four months ago, when she caught Y/N leaving my place at night.” He admitted. “Been blackmailed ever since; spent $20 on some damn heart-shaped sunglasses.” 
“Are you kidding me!” Dustin felt gobsmacked, betrayed and abandoned, like those damn Fritos. 
“Hey, but, uh, hats off to you, Robin.” Eddie smiled, offering a hand of congratulation. “Quite the competitor.” And she shook it proudly, another notch in whatever weird belt this was. 
“I still can’t believe you never told me.” Dustin gasped. “I mean, seriously, Max out of all people.” Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson’s voices eventually faded into the background, as you managed to slip away from your boyfriend’s grasp to hold onto the hand of your best friend, while you whisked her away to the quiet corner of the living room. 
“Hey, so I just wanted to apologize to you real quick.” You softly smiled at Robin. “I mean, going through all this just because I kept this from you,” you sighed, “I’m just really sorry you were forced to date my boyfriend.” 
Robin laughed, as she squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry you’re forced to date him everyday.” She joked. “No, but seriously, you don’t have to apologize at all.” Her throat began to sting with the heftiness of her feelings, but she felt the warmth of fingers against hers, and Robin Buckley took her deep breath. “I understand why you did it- why you felt the need to hide.” 
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She tearfully smiled. “I feel the same way, just a little different. I just, um, I know what it’s like to want to keep something to yourself, because having to come out as something you know the world isn’t going to love is scary. It’s really scary, Y/N.” Her hand tightened, as her voice cracked. 
But in true Buckley style, that beautiful smile never left her face, as she told you her biggest fear. But what a shame it was that the world made her biggest fear her truest self. Your arms wrapped around her in a suffocating hug, where she let out a shaky sigh against your shoulder. “Robin,” you whispered into her hair, “I love you.” You implored. “Eddie does. Steve does. I hope you know that this town isn't worth being scared of.” You felt her shudder against you, as your hand soothed down her back. “Not when you’re so goddamn perfect.” Robin laughed, as she pulled away, clearing her eyes from any unspilled tears that threatened to stain her cheeks. “I know it’s easier said than done, but genuinely, don't waste your perfect self on what the world wants.” She digested your words, flashing you a thankful grin, as she steady to jumping nerves. “I mean, take it from the man himself, your date tonight, who’s univocally himself.”
You both turned to the kitchen, where Steve and Eddie had Dustin pinned, with a spring roll in hand, trying to shove it down the defiant kid’s mouth. “Jesus, I really am sorry you have to date him.” 
You both laughed, as you watched the commotion take place. And you looked at Eddie Munson, how effortlessly beautiful he was, and how comfortable those around him came to be in his accepting presence. “He’s not too bad.” You smiled. “Now, c’mon, we have Chinese and chardonnay to celebrate!” 
Finally letting the child go, Steve snagged the spring roll with a monumental bite of pleasure, before closely crowding into Eddie’s bubble. “No, but seriously, dude, how the hell did you do it?” Steve Harrington pointed to you, as Eddie Munson smiled.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
theragethatisdesire · 10 months
Text
pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!
Tumblr media
there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)
pairing: reader x jean kirschtein
wc: 4.6k
DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.
CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie
this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3
-
-> be there in 5 babe :)
You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.
Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.
The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.
You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.
“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”
“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.
“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.
You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”
Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”
You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”
“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”
“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.
“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”
Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”
“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”
His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”
“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”
“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.
“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.
“That it?”
“I guess.”
“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.
“Yeah.”
“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.
“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”
“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”
Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”
“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”
That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”
Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”
“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”
“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”
That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”
“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”
“No.”
“Submissive, then.”
“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
“Like to be tied up?”
“Already told you about the handcuffs.”
“I bet you have a praise kink.”
That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”
Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”
“Sure.”
“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”
“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.
“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.
“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.
“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”
“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.
“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”
“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.
“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”
You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.
A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.
“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”
“Mhm,” you hum.
“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”
He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.
Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”
“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.
“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”
You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”
Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”
You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.
“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”
Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”
Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.
“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”
You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.
You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.
“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.
“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”
You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.
“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”
You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.
“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”
“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.
Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.
“Need something?”
“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.
“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.
“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”
Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”
“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”
“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”
“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.
“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.
“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”
You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:
“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”
Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”
“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.
“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.
“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”
“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.
“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”
The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.
Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.
“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”
“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”
“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”
Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.
“Want me to fuck you?”
“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.
“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”
You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.
“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”
You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.
“I’m not going to warn you again.”
“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.
You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.
“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.
“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”
“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”
“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”
You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.
“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.
“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”
You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”
“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”
“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”
“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”
Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”
“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.
“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”
You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”
You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.
“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”
“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”
“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.
“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”
“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 
“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”
“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”
“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”
That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.
Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.
“You okay?”
You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”
Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”
“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”
“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”
Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”
“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”
You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”
“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”
Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”
“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”
3K notes · View notes
droopywrites · 5 months
Note
did you ever did a part 2 to jjk dudes meeting their child who’s from the future?
⋆。Part || of JJK MEN meeting their future kids。⋆
Author's notes: I don't think I've posted it! Considering it kind of left my mind and the old draft is gone, but I did write everything I remember here. Also, it's like 3am and I wrote this crying, not proofread.
CW: Swearing, killing, cannibalism(?) like mention of eating people, children.
Pronouns used for the kids: She/her for Geto and It/its for Sukuna.
Part | (Warning, it's from 2021)
Geto
Starting off strong with Geto.
Definitely another girl. He's such a girl dad.
On a regularly scheduled day like always; it was wake up, talk with his connections, mingle with his family, check on Mimi and Nana, see whatever the hell the non-sorcerers wanted, get greeted by a little girl that wasn't supposed to be on the estate...
What the fuck.
How did she even get here? Why is she here?
Geto would stare at this child in confusion and look around, waiting for someone to claim her.
He has a soft spot for children. Sorcerers, of course. Non-sorcerers, debatable.
So, low and behold this little girl running up to him to clutch at his robes. Him trying to pry her off of him with her relieved cries of "Papa! Papa!" escaping her lips.
Papa?
Holds her by the shirt's scruff like a cat and squints, ready to scold her but pauses when he sees her face.
Because, holy shit, that's literally his twin. And suddenly every rare hookup played in his mind.
But no, she looked no older than 3. He hadn't been with anyone at that time, or ever yet. Not that far.
Drops everything for the next couple of days just to make sense of the situation, only telling his beloved family.
Mimi and Nana fawn over the idea of a little sister but are a bit restrictive if it's not a permanent thing.
The girl didn't speak much except for addressing Geto, the twins, oh and you.
You...?
You.
You.
You, who had just returned from your trip overseas to oversee some tasks involving curses.
You, who the little girl immediately ran to and called "Mama! Mama!"
You, who Geto stared wide-eyed at and surprised as you two tried to settle the fact nothing even happened between you.
Yet.
When that little girl eventually left to her own time, with everything still fresh and confusing, Geto eventually approached you.
Because, well, he wanted to see that little girl again.
After few dates, then a relationship, then marriage. Maybe.
Sukuna
Listen, he is NOT spreading those cursed genes of his pre-human/post-cursed-spirit.
Man hates love.
But, during the Heian period. When some stupid kid wandered into his life as if it always belonged there, maybe, maybe, there was something else in that space in his chest but hunger and his definition of love.
So, there it was. Whatever it was. Standing there with large eyes focused on him with a semblance of admiration and malice.
"What are you looking at, brat?"
"You."
The audacity of this thing. He killed it immediately.
And then it came back. So, he killed it again. And again. And... what the fuck.
This little shit was persistent.
His kid. He doesn't know how. But definitely his kid.
A worthy successor? Fuck no, he's not dying or leaving it as some birthright to a hindrance.
Learning of its origins was pretty interesting, to say the least.
"Not a human? I figured. A curse made from me, huh? Someone weak must hate me so much."
That meant a human parent. Or multiple human parents. Gross.
He wasn't getting into that.
The kid was though.
It often visited this village to... eat? Kill? Fight? Whatever makes it happy.
...
The hell do you mean it was visiting its human mother?
It had a mother? It had a mother that cursed him so much it resulted in a personalized cursed child?
He could see it stare longingly at that woman's village and before he could even kill her, his offspring said goodbye.
"I'll see you in the future, yeah?"
And then Sukuna was sealed.
He probably searched for his offspring in the Modern era.
Author's notes 2: Stopping with these two because it's been a while since I've posted seriously on this account, 2 years? Maybe I've gotten better, maybe not. This was the idea but with updated better minds. Maybe I'll do the others separately again, Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, Toge. Just did the adults first. Doing Choso and Higuruma definitely.
821 notes · View notes
beomboomboom · 2 months
Text
Drunk with love
Tumblr media
genre: fluff, established relationship
pairing: Seungcheol x reader
summary: Seungcheol has experienced your drunk self more than once before. He's seen everything. He's seen you dramatically confess your love to him years ago, he's seen you yell love song lyrics for him at the top of your lungs. But this was the first time you forgot that you and Seungcheol were dating altogether.
warnings: alcohol/drinking, a little bit of swearing (like very little)
note: based on the results of this poll. I hope you enjoy the fic <33
Tumblr media
"Cheolliee~ can you pick me up?"
Seungcheol lets out a sigh at the sound of your tipsy voice. He knew it was a bad idea to let you go out drinking with your friends.
Not that your friends were bad influences or anything, but when you got drunk, you got drunk.
Meaning, you couldn't even walk three steps without either throwing up or passing out.
"Okay baby, I'm going to come get you. Just wait outside the bar okay?"
"Okiee~ the world is spinningg...," he hears your intoxicated voice say. Taking that as a sign, he grabs a few plastic bags and stuffs them in his pocket on the way out of the house, already preparing for what he knows is to come.
As Seungcheol gets into his car and sets off towards the direction of the bar where you're at, he hears your drunk self let out a whine, "Where aree you Cheolliee, I need to tell you somethingg."
Phone still pressed against his ear, Seungcheol lets out a little laugh, amused at the way you're acting.
Deciding to humor your drunk self, he replies softly, "hmm, okay. How about you tell me when I come get you, does that sound alright?"
He can already picture what you're looking like at this point. Your cheeks are probably littered in a pink hue, evidence of your drinking activities, your hair a pretty mess, and your lips in a pout. You're also probably going cling onto Seungcheol the moment he finally arrives to pick you up.
Seungcheol smiles softly at the thought.
Even though dealing with your drunk self is a pain in the ass, he still loves it nonetheless. The way you show your unfiltered love to him is something that always makes him laugh and his heart swoon.
"but cheol...what I'm going to tell you...I might regret..."
Seungcheol's heart stops at your words.
No longer humoring your intoxicated words, Seungcheol worriedly ponders what in the world you could possibly mean. Seungcheol knows that when you're drunk, your filter completely disappears, which makes him worried. What kind of secret were you keeping from him that would make you say "I might regret this"?
"What do you mean by that baby?"
"well....I'll tell you in person. It's better that way. OH! I see your car, I'm coming in."
Seungcheol watches your figure, holding your phone to your ear, as you shakily stand from the bench outside the bar and stumble closer and closer to his car.
Before crumpling to the ground unexpectedly.
"Oh shoot," Seungcheol mutters under his breath as he quickly jumps out of the car and helps you stand up.
"You okay baby? Let's get in the car hm?"
But rather than replying and letting Seungcheol lead you into the car, you simply lean against Seungcheol and begin to cry. Eyes widening, Seungcheol quickly takes your face in his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his fingers.
"Awww baby, do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
"I-I-I" you start to say, and let out a small hiccup before shouting," I LOVE YOU!"
"Well, I lov-" Seungcheol starts to reply, but is quickly interrupted by your drunken rambling.
"I know this might ruin our friendship or whatever, but I can't stop my feelings for you. I just love you too much. I love you so much that i'll break the promise we made in second grade to never have a crush on one another. I love you so much that i'll risk our friendship to tell you that I love you. And I love you so much that if you don't love me back, I'll accept it."
With each word being let out of your mouth Seungcheol can feel his endearing smile grow by the second.
"Baby, I think you don't understand. We're dating right now. We were best friends before, but then you confessed to me just like how you're doing now. "
"What no way. You're lying to me. Stop joking around with me Cheollie," you say, a furrow in your brow as you try to decipher the new information.
"I'm not," Seungcheol replies, with a little laugh under his breath at the situation. The way you can't believe you're dating him makes him want to giggle and kiss you senseless at the same time.
"Then show me," you challenge, deadly serious.
Wasting no time, Seungcheol gently grabs your face with his hands and places a chaste peck on your lips. "Let's go home now hm?"
Smiling contently, you let Seungcheol take hold of your hand, and lead you towards the car.
It's after you and Seungcheol take around three steps when your eyes widen and you mutter a quiet "uh oh" and shake Seungcheol's shoulder vigorously.
Already knowing what's about to happen, Seungcheol swiftly takes out a plastic bag from his pocket and hands it to you. As you get all of the alcohol out of your system and into the plastic bag, Seungcheol holds your hair away from your face and rubs comforting circles on your back. "How about we go home and get cleaned up. Does that sound okay with you?
You manage a small nod in response and lean on Seungcheol as he helps you get into the car and buckle your seatbelt. In only a few seconds Seungcheol buckles his own seatbelt too and you and Seungcheol make the short journey home.
As Seungcheol is driving home, he gazes at your passed out figure in the passenger seat. Shaking his head, he simply smilies and lets out an endearing laugh,"you better repay me with lots of kisses and cuddles tomorrow."
405 notes · View notes
tarjapearce · 6 months
Note
Can we get a little story or something of how would Miguel take care of pregnant mama? Like I KNOW he would do the most and go the extra mile. But can we get it in your words?
Pregnancy Cares With Miguel ~ ✨
Warning: Pure fluff and a mild squeeze of nsfw.
Let's meet this weekend. MJ and I found this new place. And the hamburgers? God. 🤌🏻🤌🏻. They have these amazing artisanal beer.
You pouted at the screen. You wanted to go for a burger, but for some reason, you retched at the smell of beef. It was a big no for you. Plus you couldn't drink, for obvious reasons.
I need an outing so badly. Need a drink, work is getting so stressful. This weekend or the next one?
Jessica replied as MJ sent a ':) ' emoji on the group chat.
Can't go :(
What? Why tf no? You've been telling me you need a break. 😐
🤰
Miguel had sent the emoji and you rolled your eyes
I WAS SUPPOSED TO TELL THEM MIGUEL!!!
Wait... Fr?! 😱
OMG ❤️
MJ texted as the rest appeared as typing.
OMG Imma be an auntie!!?? 😳
Boy or Girl?
We don't know yet
You don't know 👀
Stop. Playing.
🤭🤭
SPILL OUT THE BEANS 🙄
Peter had sent a nervous gif and you cackled.
You'll find out tomorrow 😊
I swear if you don't tell
😏😏 What's gonna happen?
Guys... Im pretty sure these sort of things got you in the current situation you're in, can you not do this in the chat please?
FR
MJ just sent a 🤭 emoji.
Fine, woosies. It's a girl. ❤️❤️💖
SHUT UP 🥹🥹
MJ sent another gif exploding in hearts
Congrats on both 🎉🎉
Miguel remained quiet. You pouted.
What you didn't know is that when he came home, he'd get you a lovely bouquet of tulips and some pickles. He'd just pulled your grumpy self into a tight loving hug as he kissed your temple repeatedly until your mood vanished.
"A girl? Really? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Cause the doctor just sent me the results! And you ruined the surprise. I wanted to tell them in a different way!"
"Yeah, yeah. It's a girl! You know what that means?"
"That I'm gonna get so fat?"
"No, mensa. And even if you did, I'd still hit that." (Dummy)
"Not funny" Your cheeks flushed softly as he chuckled.
"Means that we can finally paint her room"
Your eyes swelled up in tears upon hearing him speak so softly and lovingly. He was excited. You could tell by the little flush in his ears.
"Shopping day tomorrow?"
"Ps obvio" (Obviously )
You giggled.
.----
Ever since you told Miguel you both were expecting a girl, it was like a switch turned in him.
He'd cuddle you with such care, he'd think you'd break. Wich was annoying to you since you missed sleeping ontop of him.
And when the cravings started? Dios mío.
"M-Miguel" You'd whimper as you wiped your eyes. He'd startle and instantly go in alert mode.
"¿Qué pasó? ¿Tas bien?" (What's wrong? You ok?)
You hiccuped and weeped "We have no pickles."
He'd stare at you, trying to process the correct emotion to feel in this situation.
"You're crying cause we don't... have pickles"
"Don't be mean!"
You'd hit him softly with a pillow and curled back to your bed.
"Ok, ok, Don't cry? I'll go to the... the store. Be right back."
"Can I have Nutella too?"
"Uh, sure."
Drowsy eyes looked at the clock. 2 am. On another time, he'd surely would ignore the senseless petition and talk to go back to sleep. But how could he do that when you were pregnant? He was an ass sometimes, but with a pregnant you? Never.
He went to the store, to his dismay there was only two small pickle jars, and they were inside a lady's basket.
... Puta madre...
Why was everyone suddenly in the crave for pickles?
He didn't have to elaborate much and explained the lady. She just laughed it off and kindly surrendered them to him.
"Cravings? Oh boy. You better buy her the three jar packs. And avoid wearing too strong colognes infront of her! It might get her queasy."
"Thanks" With a polite smile he paid for the pickles and went home.
You were waiting for him, teary eyed and pouty. He opened the jar of pickles for you and stared at you with awe and a mild disgust as you dipped one of the pickles inside the Nutella and scarfed the veggie down with such hunger it made you cry again.
"Its so good."
His shoulders slumped with a sigh and wiped your chin.
"You're such a weirdo."
"Want some?"
"No, thanks. Keep eating"
"But I'll get fat"
"It's normal to gain weight during pregnancy."
"You'd love me if I was chubbier right?"
"Yes. I would. Eat your... thing."
He'd chuckle watch you eat until you were satisfied. three pickles in total with half the bottle of Nutella.
The next day he got you a small pack of pickles and two big bottles of that sweet spread to then rub your feet.
---
As time went on and your belly grew, the doctor appointments never got skipped or missed. He was there making sure everything was in order. His big hand hugging yours in a secure embrace as you got your ultrasounds. Everything was going perfectly.
The most dangerous months had passed and he allowed to breathe a bit more.
He had refused when you told him you wanted to work from home. Even if it was home office.
"No. It can lead you to stress out. And that will stress the baby out. Something can happen and no. Let me handle it."
"Stop being paranoid, I'll be fine! I just... don't like sitting all day or sleeping. I need to do something. And you didn't let me do much in the baby's room either!"
"Mi amor. You need to rest. I know you don't like it. But you need to."
"Could you at least get me an exercise ball?"
"Sure. Just don't-"
"Ay ya, Miguel! Ni que fuera a romperme!" (Stop it. I'm not gonna break!)
you whined
"I worry, mi reina."
"I know, and I appreciate it, but I gotta do something around!"
"Just promise me you'll go easy, ok?"
"Fine."
You kissed his cheek and cuddled him, the heat he provided felt heavenly against your back. You had started to waddle and to your dismay a new nickname was born. You were his Pingüinita. (Little penguin)
On the six month mark, you'd toss and turn on bed, feeling either too hot or cold. One moment you were snuggled against him, for the next to remove your clothes and lay naked next to him.
One particular night you felt suffocating. Summer was rampant and you woke up in tears at the oppressing heat.
He'd wake up no long after and filled in the bathtub with the right kind of water. Sweat and hormones raging on your body. Despite sleepiness clinging to him, he'd help you to the tub and bathe you.
Big and gentle hands massaged your wet scalp to then massage your shoulders and lower back. He splashed your body with water and kissed your temple carefully.
"Feel better? "
"Great, thank you, mi amor."
He'd smile lazily and remained there with you, almost falling asleep again in the bathroom until you were ready to leave to sleep.
- - -
He'd buy you long and cotton nightgowns. They were breathable and made everything a bit more comfortable for you, along some essential vitamins. And a hammock for the porch. He'd find you sleeping often in there.
Whenever you went out with the rest he'd make sure that none ordered meat. You still were sensitive to the smell, despite Peter longing for a burger.
Miguel would bathe with you to help you wash your back. But it was just an excuse to touch you and feel you. He'd be as gentle as he could with you. It turned him on to see you swelling with his child. Even brought out things he didn't know was into. Like, a lactation kink. And eat you out despite your protests of not being able to see him.
He was absolutely moonstruck with you. And when the time for you to deliver his baby finally came. He tried to remain strong and collected, despite his hands trembling like an earthquake. He kept an eye on you like a hawk, always looming around you.
He couldn't help but melt when Gabriella's cries echoed loud and healthy on the room.
He kissed you with such pride in his eyes that you'd think he was about to cry.
He knew his life with you had just started, and he was glad he had chosen you. Happy and grateful even. You just made him a dad of a wonderful little girl that instantly quieted down when he held her in his arms. One of the nurses snapped a picture of him holding and cooing Gabi as you got a well deserved nap.
Despite him not being a texter, he sent the picture of Gabi to the group chat.
OMG! Congratulations! she's so beautiful! 😊
I wanna cry so badly right now. She's gorgeous 🎉🎉
I'm an uncle now. :') So proud of you, Miguel.
Thanks
When can we see her?
Lemme ask Pingüinita and I'll let you know.
🐧?
683 notes · View notes
bones4thecats · 3 months
Text
Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.2) ~ RoR/SnV x Child! Reader
Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Beelzebub, Apollo, & Child! Reader Name: Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.2) Original Poll Results: Here Other Parts: (PT.1)
A/N: Because of how long the poll result was, I decided to make this into two different parts! I hope you guys enjoy this and have a nice day/night!
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
Tumblr media
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
🪰 He saw Tesla as weak and pathetic, but even he had to admit, the way he held himself in battle with his wits was quite impressive for a human, but he did not wish to show any kind of compassion towards the human, he still lost
🪰 And when he heard the sound of a child crying and hugging a piece of metal, he turned around and saw a young child wearing the same pair of goggles that the human he had just defeat wore
🪰 Beelzebub tilted his head as you cried while your father kneeled and hugged you as he crumbled away into nothing, and what he said to you reminded him of Lilith…
“ I will always be with you, in life and death… I love you, my little ray of hope… “
🪰 The God of Darkness could hear your cries of pain and depression, and it made his heart hurt so much, but he couldn’t tell why… why did he feel… bad for you?
🪰 You looked over your shoulder at him and flinched as he took steps towards you, but the Watchman of the Apocalypse could sense how he was about to kill you, so he stood in front of you and held you on his shoulder while beckoning the oldest Valkyrie to grab you from the field
🪰 He would watch you sit by the feet of the Valkyrie, looking up at the Gods once and while whenever they landed a hit on your human fighter, but the one God you looked at the most of Beelzebub, if he was even there
🪰 Beelzebub eventually heard a knock on his door and saw the eleventh Valkyrie sister, Hlökk, staring at him before saying how you wished to speak to him
🪰 He tilted his head in confusion while looking down at you, you shared the same shimmer in your eyes that your father had, and it surprised him that you wanted to talk to him, you saw how he killed your father, why didn’t you hate him?
🪰 When he spoke to you about your father with the oldest Valkyrie and the Buddha in the next room, he watched how you admired his work, and even corrected a few things, that was when he knew…
🪰 He didn’t want to leave you alone in this world without any family, so, he offered the Human’s the ultimate choice
“ Brunhilde, I would like to propose a deal. I will take care of the young Tesla child and teach them everything their father would’ve while alive. I swear to keep them protected from anything dangerous. “
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
Tumblr media
●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・
☀️ He had to admit, your father was quite the fighter, he was an honorable man, and when he turned around to hear the cheers from his nymphs, what he didn’t expect was the quiet words of Leonidas, the King of Sparta, speaking
☀️ Apollo turned around and saw a young child standing in front of the man, holding a spear, one that was made for their small form, and seeing the King just smile and hug the child before speaking his final goodbyes and bursting into the shards of his life, it just made the God look at the child with sadness
☀️ The God of the Sun looked at you with apparent regret in his eyes, he never knew that the battle-driven man he fought had a child, nonetheless one that couldn’t even had been a full-grown teenager
☀️ You smiled as your father gave you one last kiss on the head and loving grin, and seeing you hug the man’s shattered leg made Apollo look at you with pity, and when the Valkyrie and human faded away to the sky, he walked up behind you and tapped your shoulder, alerting you the man who killed your father was there
☀️ His eyebrows furrowed and he sat down on his knees to stare into your eyes, smiling as you touched his face, trying to wipe away any blood from the wound
☀️ Despite him killing your father right in front of you, you still showed care for him, and when he asked you why you were trying to fix his appearance up, you answered with a polite;
“ My father told me it was a fair fight. And in fair fights, you need to treat the winner not like garbage, but like a treasure. You won fair and square, and while I feel sad of losing my father, I will not hold a grudge against you, God of the Sun. “
☀️ Apollo smiled and patted your head before standing and lifting you up into his arms to carry you back to the Gods’ infirmary, and once you came into the hallway of the arena, you looked at him and kept trying to whip the blood on his face away, claiming it would ruin his reputation if it stayed there and stained
☀️ While he healed, you stayed by his side, trying to make him tell you more stories of the battles he watched your father participate in, and because of how much time you two spent together, Apollo couldn’t help but start seeing you as his own
☀️ One day, he eventually asked a question that would make your life whole again;
“ Y/N, child of Leonidas and heir of Sparta, you are unlike any other child I’ve ever seen in my life. I would be greatly honored if you would do me the pleasure of becoming my child. I understand I will not fully replace your father, and I am alright with that, but you being alone is something I cannot stand. So, what do you say, youngling? “
543 notes · View notes
wonijinjin · 4 months
Text
my human charger
Tumblr media
author’s note: this is part of the 200 followers event
synopsis: when cheol gets tired he needs his charger to connect with him.
word count: 0.6k | genre: fluff, humour/crack | pairing: cheol x gn! reader | warnings: none
“mingyu i am open! toss it to me!” cheol screamed as mingyu had the basketball in his hands, standing in the corner of the court, trying to dodge his opponent from the other team. “scoups, catch!” the tall man shouted as he threw the red ball in the direction of his teammate, him catching it in his large hand with ease. some of the boys were playing basketball on the court of the park since the weather was nice and they wanted to let off some of the steam that had been building up in many of them with the upcoming new music releases. they loved playing different sports, and you had seen your boyfriend cheol do many of them with the others, but it was your first time actually witnessing the brilliance of his skills in a game of basketball.
now, you were not the best at ball games, especially since you had no sense of direction at all, resulting in you getting hit in the face by the round object many times while the others tried to teach you. this is why you chose to be a spectator most of the time, getting fed up with trying endless times, accepting that you were definitely not made to be an athlete unlike some of the group’s members. “let’s take a break, alright?” hoshi said after scoring yet another point in the game, all of the men looking extra exhausted by running around for such a long time. you watched as cheol jogged down to the side, and went up to him. “you did so well dear!” you claimed while giving him a chaste kiss as a reward for his hard work. “i honestly don’t understand how you manage to hold that big thing in only one hand, you caught it so smoothly!” you wondered, amazed. he stayed silent for a moment, grabbing your hand and lacing it with his, comparing their sizes. “now this is why i can catch it, love.” he giggled “my hand is way bigger than yours.” he continued explaining like it wasn’t obvious; his hands were always huge, you loved how yours fit into his when walking around the city, or how when he cupped your cheeks you could feel more at ease, his long thumb stroking the apple of them lightly before kissing you softly. you laughed at him, grinning. “i love your hands.” he kissed yours, still laced with his fingers. “i know darling.” he chuckled, breaking the bond and starting to fan himself, sweaty from the game. “you are still sweating like crazy even though you are on break. this game is intense, huh?” you joked, seeing how he almost got embarrassed for a minute, but his witty mind was faster. “yes, i am exhausted. i need to recharge my energy.” he stated while spreading his arms to trap you in a hug; it was common for him to cling to you when feeling tired, and this day was not an exception. “seungcheol if you hug me i swear to god i will go home! i’m feeling hot aswell already, don’t need your body heat and sweat!” you whined, trying to run away. “i will cry.” he said causally, and you knew he would actually do it out of spite, however you couldn’t help but giggle. “is that meant to be a threat?” you smirked. “cheol you are not scary, you literally pout like a sulky puppy.” you wheezed, giving in to his embrace anyways, hugging him tightly and staying like that for a while, craving the touch just as much as he did.
332 notes · View notes
toshn · 3 months
Text
cw: overstimulation, pussy-eating
i just know for a fact that mark eats pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. the first time he got a taste of you, he’s decided he never wants to leave the space between your thighs. like no matter how overstimulated you get, he’s not stopping.
even if you choke out “i-i can’t- please, it’s too much…” it only drives him to suck your clit even harder while he moans, further adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. he’d always tell you “just a second baby, i swear i’m almost finished.” knowing damn well with a stamina like his, he’s no where near done with you. and it would always result in poor you full-on crying, brain mushed and reduced to a sobbing mess because he’s been at it for what felt like hours.
as much as he loves seeing you getting dicked down, he also loves seeing you helpless— unable to wriggle out of his grasp with his vice-like grip on your hips and all you could do is lay there and take it. of course, he’d always praise you when he’s done—
“you did so good f’me, i think you deserve a reward. don’t you think?”
and when you think he’s finally finished, you feel something prodding against your sensitive cunt and next thing you know, you’re flipped on your stomach.
361 notes · View notes
sunsh1n3s · 2 months
Note
okay so what if don takes reader on a night boat ride and then he kisses her? just like joe did with joyce in the movie?
idk i feel like he’d be so shy but yet so cute… like imagine him asking her out, he’d be so blushy 🫠
— lovely night. ( don hume x reader )
a.n. i love this i wanted to write this before you asked i wasn’t sure if anyone would want that. i’m so glad you asked for it.
contains. swearing? who knows. fem!reader.
don walked down the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in his jacket as the day was coming to an end. he had gotten the news he made it on the rowing team, and he was overjoyed. what he didn’t enjoy was the walk back to his temporary home in the cold, slightly intoxicated.
in front of him came a face so familiar, so beautiful. “y/n, why are you out alone?” he greeted. she looked at him, eyes blotchy and nose red from the chill. “hey what’s up?” he asked, placing a hand on her arm.
“stupid test. bombed it and parents are disappointed.” she mumbled under her breath. he knew little about her family, they were old partners in class; she got him to speak more than anyone in the school, it took her a while. because of that class, he was lucky to be her acquaintance.
whenever he spoke to her, he was a nervous mess. but the sight of her distraught stopped it all, he only worried for her emotions.
“the test sucked and he prepared us terribly for it. i didn’t do well either, y/n.” he assured, his eyes searching hers. “don’t cry. you’re too pretty to cry. hell- you’re even pretty when you cry.” he spoke, wiping her tears and pulling her into a hug. his face was red, and he couldn’t blame the cold once she saw his blush.
now that her tears stopped and she smiled slightly, he became nervous again. “do you- would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, tense now and red. y/n laughed a little and wiped her stray tears, “that’d be much appreciated.” she accepted.
and so they walked, side by side through the cold. “i heard results for the rowing team came out, did you get a spot?” she asked. don smiled and nodded, “stroke.” he answered. y/n smiled wide, “you did it don.” she said, bumping her elbow with his. “i knew you’d get a spot, you could hardly grip a pencil or focus on our labs. i had to do all the work.” she joked, making him chuckle.
“to pay you back for all your work, would you like to go on a boat ride?” he asked, looking at her. “now?” she asked, looking behind them as they walked away from the direction of the place he was always at. “oh- no not tonight no, we-we can go another night. if you’re free that is- or interested.” he rambled.
don stopped once she placed her hand on his arm, “i’d love to. i’m free tomorrow.” she agreed. he smiled, “tomorrow it is.” he said. small smiles stayed on their faces while they made it to y/n’s dorm.
“goodnight don, meet you here tonight?” she asked, he nodded and she smiled. she kissed his cheek and headed inside, leaving the boy blushing like crazy.
the evening came around, don waited outside the dorm for y/n. he held a small bouquet of flowers for her. girls passed with smiles, some even asked who he was there for.
he repeated her name so many times, that when she stood in front of him, nothing came to mind. as always, he was speechless at her beauty. “flowers for you.” he offered. she took them gently with a wide smile, “don you didn’t have to. thank you.” she said and smiled up at him. he blushed once again and started to walk. y/n followed as they made their way towards where he spent almost all of his time.
they spoke on whatever came to mind that night, either family, future, don’s rowing, upcoming events, whatever it was; they enjoyed it. everything y/n shared made don admire her more and more. from the way she smiled to the way she fidgeted with a leaf on the flowers. every little trait of hers was something so admirable.
they arrived and don was given a two-seater boat from george, he thanked him quietly as george watched the two with care. y/n greeted him and followed don to the water. she watched in awe as he carried it with ease, she noticed his muscles through his sleeves and the care he had for the boat. she helped with the oars, leaving the flowers with george. once don set up the oars, he stood with his hand out, "you first." he offered. y/n took his hand but stood there nervously, "what if the boat flips?" she asked. he let out a small laugh, making her smile at him through her nerves. "i'm serious." she backed up her claim. "it won't flip, y/n." he assured.
sighing, she gripped his hand as she slowly got into the boat, then sat down as quick as she could. don followed and got in, grabbing the oars and rowing them from the place.
he watched her watch the area around them, in awe at the sunset around the small lake; he blushed when she looked at him with soft smiles. after a while, don stopped rowing so he could speak to her. "you want to try?" he asked, moving a bit so she could move next to him. he watched as y/n contemplated it, "sure." she agreed and moved close to him, gripping his knee and arm as the boat moved with every shift she made. he chuckled at it and helped her relax once she was next to him.
y/n grabbed the oars and copied his movements, don's eyebrows raised in surprise as the glided through the water slightly. they didn't move too much, but it was enough to where he was impressed. "who taught you how to row? or at least slightly row." he asked, placing his hands over hers hesitantly to help them move more. "my brother, it was his sport when he was around my age. he taught me but there's no women's team yet and i'm too busy to master it." y/n spoke. don smiled softly at the glimpse into her life, "maybe you could lead a whole team of girls." he suggested, smiling at her.
"maybe." she replied, smiling at him.
the boat slowed as they stopped focusing on moving it. don's face close to hers made them both go red. y/n eyes gave him the answer he needed as she glanced from his eyes to lips. he leaned in slowly and kissed her gently, y/n returned the kiss and he let the oars go to hold her.
they pulled apart with smiles on their faces, y/n gave him a small kiss again. don fixed her hair and admired her beauty. "we should probably head back." y/n spoke, noticing how it had gotten darker. they both laughed softly and don nodded, "probably. hang on." he agreed, he turned the boat and decided to mess with y/n. he rowed at a faster speed, listening to her laugh and look at him with a slight amount of fear in her eyes. "holy shit, don!" she exclaimed, making him laugh. "i told you to hang on." he said once they slowed, she rolled her eyes with a smile. "didn't think you'd go pro rower with me." she teased.
the night ended with them walking back to y/n's place. don held her hand as she held her flowers. "thank you for a lovely night." she thanked once they stopped at her dorm. "always." he answered, looking down at her with admiration. y/n kissed him again, this time longer and less nervous. don returned it, yet he was more nervous.
they let go of each other for the night and don watched as she went in, waving goodnight to him. he waved back and once she was gone, he turned to let out a big exhale with a smile on his face. how lucky he was.
173 notes · View notes
moumouton4 · 1 year
Text
That Moment You Tried To Be On Top Hcs || Naruto characters x reader
Including : Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Kakashi Hatake, Yamato, Iruka Umino and Hidan
A/n : I received 2 asks and I'll be working on them slowly as I have exams soon ! Though it's be easier to know what you're thinking about if I could ask you the question I got. I'm thinking of the idols one of example 👀
A/n 2 : If you want to see others characters with this hc I'm open to suggestions ✨
Warnings : NSFW, penetrative sex, riding, cockwarming, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it
Masterlist ⚜
I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it
Words count : 1983
Sasuke :
Tumblr media
You decided not to talk to about it with him beforehand. You know him very well and 1. he never talk about sex and 2. because of his pride and as stupid as it may sound he tell you "no" right away
So you tried your luck while doing it when you were on top of him and his cock was sliding in and out of your tight cunt
If he realizes that you are trying to get out of his grip he will immediately put more pressure to keep you pinned where you are under him "Do you think I'm your bitch or something ?" It will take a lot for him to conceive the fact that you can be on top while you are having sex
So you had to blackmail him. Always finding excuses to refuse doing it so he couldn't be able touch you the way he was craving
You decided to hold out until he gave in and let you be on top. And frankly for the now you were holding on well
The same could not be said for him. He thought he could hold out but after 2 months without sex he thought he was going to go crazy because of how hard his cock was his every time he saw you
He really questioned one of his opinions for the first time in his life when he half-heartedly accepted that you were on top. And when he saw you riding him, oh gosh you looked like a goddess. As his hands squeezed your perfect breasts, with your gaze that seemed to was going to implode with pleasure was fixed in his, and the divine sounds you let out caressing his ears
He swears he's never cum so hard in his life he even moaned
Okay he might like it but don't expect it to be like this all the time nor even sometimes, he doesn't want to be vulnerable to you :(
But who knows with time he might end up letting you see more of his red, sweaty, disheveled face as you ride his pretty cock
He lowkey knows this moment will happen at some point and he can't wait for it to happen
Naruto :
Tumblr media
You preferred not to tell him beforehand, because you knew he was going to tell his friends he still did afterwards. Also to do it when you're going at it will avoid you to be subjected to his endless questions about why and how you asked him that. Like he's going to worry about him not making you feel good :(
When you try though, he doesn't understand right away why you try to get out of his grip by wrapping your legs around his like this
He thought you wanted to stop or that something is wrong. So he releases you but to his surprise you flipped him over and found yourself on top of him. Pinning him to the bed just like you were a few moments before. His cock still buried inside you throbbed in a way that made your eyes roll
The high pitched cry of surprise he let out at that moment was priceless
He really liked this initiative from you, but being the hyperactive boy that he is, he couldn't help but grab your hips and pound into you when he felt his orgasm coming. Resulting with you cumming on him, your wetness running down his thighs
"That was definetely something dattebayo !"
This is something you'll do often, the days he's tired or recovering from his injuries. But most of times, when it's time to go to bed, he asks you to lie on top of him while you cockwarm him while you fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling the warmth of the love between you
Kakashi :
Tumblr media
You don't talk about sex much in everyday life. Yes he reads Icha Icha in public but he is still uncomfortable talking about it. Just look at his scarlet face when Shikamaru asked him to read what was written on a page of his book and he struggled so much just said "I love you very much"
So it was while you were doing it that you asked him between moans "Can I ughh go on top ?"
His eyes only went slighlty wide before he flipped you both over at lightning speed ( pun unintented ) so that you were on top of him. You moaned as you clit grazed his pubic bone, giving you an etheral friction. You then grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head
It was very exciting for him to finally reproduce one of the positions he had read in Icha Icha so many times well yes he reread it so many times
It became something you'd often do when he just got back from a mission and he's tired but still wants to get dirty with you
Don’t try to joke about him being secretly a sub because he is going to fuck you into the matress so hard you won’t even joke about that anymore… unless you’re into that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
But he does like to see you on top of him so much that sometimes he asks you to lie on top of him without moving while he reads his bed lying in your bed while beng all warm and snug inside of you
Don't worry he will reward you appropriately afterwards you will need help to walk though
Yamato :
Tumblr media
You figured he was shy with it since you didn't really talk about sex and when it happened it was spontaneously depending on your moods
Not to mention the face he made when he looked in Kakashi's book one day
In reality you were right because the few times you mentioned something sexual he ended up red as a lipstick or a sports car…. well bright red
So you decided to give it a shot just as he was about to lay you down on the bed and climb on top of you
You teleported your naked form behind him and pushed him in order to settle between his legs
His face was as red as a robin as always
"W-what are you- mpff" you cut him off by impaling yourself on his cock and giving a vigorous thrust with your hips
The sight that was subjected to his eyes was divine
"Princess- ugh p-please slower I won't l-last if-" to late he came
He came faster than he would have liked after only a few more strokes at this pace
He apologized for 15 minutes straight despite you telling him it was ok ( you were still on top of him at the time )
It didn't take long for him to get hard inside you again
And there you go again for 2nd ride
It's a position that you use a lot for quickies as you're more in control of your pleasure and he's even weaker for you like this. So it goes pretty fast
But Yamato staying true to himself would still be 1000 % flustered like the it's the first time when you're on top of him, because you're just so hot
Iruka :
Tumblr media
He's a teacher and he teaches sex education to his older students, so you thought it was safe enough to speak about it without getting him embarrassed
But it's Iruka we're talking about and well you were wrong because the moment the words "do it" reached his ears he froze in place when you said "Next time we do it could I be on top ?"
He had to summon up a lot of self control to answer you "Erm s-s-sure L-l-love" he was as red as the pen he used to correct his students' tests
And he was so flustered and bothered after that. Like if for example you could have done it that night well you wouldn't because of the state he was in
Iruka.exe has stopped working
You had to trick him to start having sex again. What you had asked him had turned him on so much that he overthought it a lot which had him have a brief block
So you made up a plan. You grabbed his clothes while he was in the shower and waited for him to come out wrapped in a towel to put the next step of you plan into action
Your plan was just to jump his bones 😂
"Hey at least your clothes are already off we're saving time" you joked as you pushed him onto the bed while he yelped
You wasted no time straddling him and impaling yourself on his cock. He let you experience what you wanted and never tried to take over
He's just as proud of you for asking him to try new things and himself for holding on cumming for so long - even though he usually lasts longer - but for his defense you looked so delicious in that position
There was a 2nd round after that... and you've never been fucked this hard by him all the other times you did it
Definitely go back to this position often. Besides, you now take an initiative that he craves, that is, when he has a lot of exams to correct in the evening, you just sit on his dick while he marks them. You try your best not to move but it's really hard when you start feeling him roll his hips into you like this... and before you even know it he isn't grading papers anymore
Hidan :
Tumblr media
You've been with him for a long time and you know very well that he has no taboos. So you asked him in a straightforward way
He was very interested because he is just a horny bastard but he has a misplaced pride that made him say with a shit eating grin "Don't forget you're the one taking my cock, not the other way around Princess"
You tried to retort but he spanked you hard and you squeaked
But you really wanted to see him pinned underneath you, so during your last mission for the Akatsuki, while he was doing his ritual for Jashin you offered him to join you next time if he accepted the proposal you had made to him some time ago
Of course his perverted mind made a direct link with the fact that you wanted to ride him and he accepted, feeling that having you with him in his rituals would be the most wonderful thing
When the time came he let you ride him and after a few strokes of your hips he lifted you up and pounded inside of you to relieve pressure he was feeling, thinking that you were going too slow
By the time he let you go at your own pace again your legs were already trembling from the pleasure you were feeling. So he simply flipped you over before fucking you hard, as usual
Hidan doesn't play fair lmao. He never did and probably never will
Anyways, he liked it a lot, a little too much even. Because sometimes he put you on top of him and make you feel like he was ordering you to do it when all he wants is for you is to use his dick to like an object of pleasure
Sometimes even when you are on a mission, when he feels horny almost all the time he sits cross-legged somewhere and asks you to ride him
And frankly, in a country where there's little chance of you meeting anyone or even being recognized, who would you be to deny your boyfriend that, especially knowing the sinful whines that escape his mouth when you circle your hips this way he loves so much
Cut to someone pointing 2 Akatsuki members fucking behind a tree
~
~
A/n : First headcanon on Naruto characters. Now I shall go to sleep it's 1 am 😂 I hope you guys liked it ! 🍿🌭 Again my requests are open 🥗🧀
Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff
748 notes · View notes
roseykat · 1 year
Text
TITLE: Barb Wired Brat
Tumblr media
WC: 7.1k
MASTERLIST
PAIRING: Minho x female reader
WARNING: minors DNI, I post NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever. 
TAGS: BDSM, impact play, mean!Minho, pet names, spreader bars, restraints, degradation, edging, ruined orgasm, multiple orgasms, crying, swearing, unprotected sex, subspace, use of the word ‘slut’, use of a vibrator. 
SUMMARY: misbehaving and being a brat doesn’t get you anywhere with Minho. So he lets you know what the consequences are...
The conviction of telling someone what to do, bullying them in bed, or manhandling them, is a challenging aspect. Being hesitant or unsure is not a road Minho has or will ever walk down when it comes to BDSM. He's a soft yet relentless inflictor of pain. Not many people are able to walk the fine line between both. Most are either too soft or too harsh.
Minho was the pot of gold you found at the end of the rainbow in terms of a romantic partner and a decent dom. Someone who knows his stuff.
Establishing roles was always important. Ideally, Minho associates himself as a somewhat dominant person. However, that doesn’t waive the occasions where he’s allowed you to take control in vanilla situations. Every now and then, he would let you handcuff him to the bed and ride him until you forget your own name.
But that’s almost as far as it goes because when it comes to BDSM, you let him take the reins. Whilst you have a fair bit of knowledge about it thanks to experience and research, Minho’s experience is more reputable.
“Edging is just teasing, no?” You asked him one day - long before either of you began to incorporate any kinks or special play into the relationship.
Minho pondered for a second, “not necessarily. They’re both the same in the sense of it being deliberate, but edging requires a lot of control on the sub's behalf. It’s not easy.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you ask?” Minho questioned back. “Did you want to try it?”
With a nod and firm yes, edging became one of the first, recurring activities in the bedroom alongside most aspects of BDSM. It was such an effective way for Minho to assert control whenever you were consensually willing to give that to him.
But there were some days when he would need to earn that control as a result of you simply just being an absolute brat.
Your methods of acting up in bed were intentional and deliberate. In those vanilla instances, Minho could have you ride him. However, not even a minute into being on top, you would start to complain about being too tired or that your knees were getting sore.
You would then just lie on top of his body with his cock still stuffed in you until he decided to start doing all the work. In the moment, it would drive him nuts to have to flip you over and rail you into oblivion himself.
However, Minho doesn’t hold it against you because he loves you so much, but there’s only so much of your bratty behaviour that Minho can absorb. After that, he is brutal and unforgiving, which is exactly what you’re reminded of the next time you and Minho are in bed together.  
With the usual pre-discussion before any scene, Minho listened to any aspects that you wanted him to cover and not to cover.
“Whatever you feel like,” you said to him.
Those words left him with a decent amount of space to incorporate what he desired, tying it in with the element of surprise.
The alignment was perfect given the fact that he wanted to put you in your place - to tune you up a bit and to remind you what happens when you decide to act up.
From there on, he wasn’t going to hold back.
“Clothes off,” Minho first instructs.
The act of stripping you himself is too personal and sensual for what he’s going for. Even before he starts to touch you, he wants to plant the idea in your head that this is a punishment and not a reward.
You know he enjoys removing each item of clothing from your body, whether it’s slow and gentle or frantically ripping them off like he’s going to die if he doesn’t fuck you.
Either way, you understood his stance even more when he didn’t bother to look at you as you undressed.
You discard your clothes onto the chair in the corner of the room then sit on the end of the bed, waiting for his next instructions.
Minho shakes his head, “on the floor.”
“The floor?” You question back in disbelief.
“Did I stutter?” He asks you.
Looking at Minho now, you can tell that he’s pissed and the scene hasn’t even started. But you can’t help but absorb how hot he looks when he gets like this in the bedroom.
“No,” you reply sheepishly. “I just thought we were on the bed because that’s where we usually do scenes.”
“No,” Minho puts it sternly once more. “What’s your colour?”
“Green,” you answer.
“Then why aren’t you on the floor already?”
Giving Minho full permission to order you around or use you as he pleases is an exciting aspect of not knowing what’s about to happen. It intensifies his natural streak of unpredictability.
Following his instruction, you hop off of the bed and kneel before him on the ground while he retrieves a couple of items he had hidden beside the bed.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with these by now,” he says, holding up two spreader bars, one in each hand.
‘Familiar’ doesn’t even come close to how well you know what they are. It was a certain type of loathing mixed with a sick enjoyment. The whole purpose of the bars is to simply keep your legs spread for the man who intends to fuck between them.
“It might be better if you lie on your stomach first so I can work my way up.”
You try to contain your questions and heed his order. A hiss leaves your mouth when the front of your body flattens over the cold, hard wooden floor with your arms slightly propping you up. Usually, scenes between you and Minho take place on a surface that provides at least the slightest amount of cushion like a bed, chair, or couch.
For you to be on the floor is almost a disregard for any source of comfort. You know it’ll probably end up hurting, but not to the point where you would have to safe word your way out of it.
Minho takes the first spreader bar and fits it just above your ankles using the pre-attached cuffs. Each one is secured tightly so that the bar now takes the ability away for you to try and bring your feet together.
The second spreader bar is fixed just below your knees. Minho doesn’t want them right over the bone of your kneecaps because it would create an unnecessary risk of injury.
At that stage, anywhere below your hips are practically immovable. There’s no chance of you being able to close your legs at any stage, but you’re still able to sit back on your heels.
“Right, now sit up for me,” Minho instructs, patting you on the arm with the back of his hand. “Might be easier that way to get into the position, otherwise it’ll hurt trying to move with these on.”
“What do you mean?” You look back at him.
“I want you face down, ass up so I can cuff your hands to the other cuffs on the spreader bar.”
Oh. It was that sort of position.
You peel yourself off the ground, propping up to walk your hands back until you’re kneeling. In the midst of preparing two other items, Minho’s gaze drops down to your tits. Your nipples had hardened stiff from resting on the cold floor.
“Cute,” he comments with a coy smile, making your face flush entirely with red. “Alright, face down, hands at your sides.”
The position feels objectively embarrassing, especially when your legs are spread and your ass is in the air. Although, that doesn’t stop you from moving for Minho, knowing he’s not in the mood for resistance.
“Good,” he says, readying the next set of restraints.
This time, he’s using individual leather cuffs with clips attached, one for each of your wrists. Your hands rest at your sides once Minho secured them. He then clips each of the wrist restraints to the outsides of the spreader bar cuffs below your knees. This way, your arms were bound to your legs, now limiting any movement from your upper body.  
Once the restraints are complete, Minho moves away to get a good look at you. He watches as you test the cuffs by trying to pull away from the sides of your knees. You don’t even bother to move your legs knowing full well that it’s impossible.
Suddenly, the tips of Minho’s fingers trail over your spine. It’s ticklish, but a subtle attempt to soothe you.
“You should be feeling some discomfort, but is there any unnecessary pinching around the restraints?” He questions.
“No,” you reply clearly.
“Okay. Colour?”
“Green.”
“Right, let’s start,” Minho replies and begins to unbuckle his belt.
At first, you thought he was getting ready to fuck you, but it was far too early in the scene. There hasn’t been any foreplay or prep. It wasn’t until he folded the belt in half to use as a makeshift impact toy that you understood the message.
The black leather band wasn’t entirely that thick in width which meant it was going to sting rather than feel like a ‘thud’. Out of both sensations that you’ve experienced, the stinging can sometimes hurt to a point where it’s blinding.
Unfortunately for you, when it comes to impact play, Minho doesn’t hold back and shows very little remorse. He manages to demonstrate that with the first whip of his belt which came out of nowhere. You gasp at the sudden contact, already embracing the emulsifying heat that the first sting brings.
The next hit came from his hand, smacking hard and fast that your body involuntarily jolts.
“Fuck,” you swallow, bracing yourself for more hits.
Minho never mentioned how many you were going to take which he omitted just to torture you. If he had given you a specific number, it would eliminate the anticipation of the activity ending. To an extent, he wants you to suffer - to not know what’s coming next.
Over the same area where his hand slapped came the belt, forcing a set of curse words out of you. Heat spreads like wildfire throughout your lower half while your brain is confused by how much the impact hurts and how much you adorn it. The dilemma arises every time a hit lands hard on your ass.
With each whack or spank comes a fresh sting and a new handprint. It almost feels as if your skin is burning.
“Mhmm, fuck!” You scream out, attempting to kick your legs.
Minho clicks his tongue, “I should’ve gagged you.”
There’s nowhere for the pain to disburse except the isolated area Minho’s hand keeps making contact with. All of a sudden, he gropes one cheek and squeezes ruthlessly.
“Minho! Fuck, please, please, please!” You cry out desperately, your hands bunching into fists at your sides.
He glares down at you while you try to squirm under his grip, “what are you saying ‘please’ for? What do you want?”
“It…it hurts a lot,” you sob and groan. “I can’t…”
“Colour?”
Your brain stalls at his question. Minho trusts that if you’re uncomfortable at any stage throughout the scene, you would say either ‘yellow’ to slow down or ‘red’ to stop completely.
“Colour?” He repeats.
“I…g-green,” you convey clearly to him.
Even though you don’t see it, he’s smirking. Amidst all the pain he’s inflicting, no matter how much it hurts, deep down, you love it. Minho knows it too.
He lets out a haughty chuckle, “what a pain slut.”
His hand finally releases from your cheek and whilst you think you have time to breathe, Minho’s fingers glide between your wet folds. Up and down, he gathers your juices, deliberately teasing your pussy.
“You know how I can tell that you like it so much?” Minho asks in a soft tone.
His hand retracts, fingers slick and gleaming. He then proceeds to show just how wet you are by holding his hand up so that you can see from the angle you’re in.
That’s when you realise what the answer is…
“Because it makes you this wet. Doesn’t it?”
Too flustered and embarrassed to answer, all you could do was hum as a response. Unsatisfied with your lack of a proper answer, Minho goes back to squeezing one of your ass cheeks again making you yelp and shake.
“I didn’t catch that,” he taunts.
“Y-Yes!” You cry out, tremoring hopelessly under his grip.
“I thought as much,” he hisses and removes his hand, leaving you with more dull and dense pain to absorb. “You’ll take some more hits and if you take them well, maybe I’ll consider letting you come.”  
‘Maybe’ is never a promising word, but Minho always follows through with his convictions if you behave. Today he just doesn’t seem like he wants to put up with any disobedience.
To yank you out of your thoughts, Minho's hand pelts down hard once. Even though you’re expecting each hit, your body can’t help but jolt on every single one. By the unknown number of hits you start taking, the pain is there but it’s also not.
This effect has happened before. It’s not mostly that you know when it occurs during a scene, but it’s almost always during impact play.
Minho takes advantage of the infernal masochist in you, giving you so many hits to take that it makes your brain slip. It’s his ultimate catalyst to send you flying into subspace. But he doesn’t want you there just yet.
“Oi,” he warns, narrowing his eyes down at you to take in your distant expression. “Don’t start floating now, I want you to feel everything I’m about to do to you.”
The final set of impacts was the hardest you’ve had to take. Your ass is sore, stained red and tinged purple. There’s a twisted part of Minho’s brain that relishes in looking at the work he’s made out of it.
Seeing his reddish handprints over your ass makes his cock twitch. He then blinks down to the tent in his pants and sighs. At the moment, being hard was an inconvenience.
Then again, this was all his own doing. Allowing himself to be affected by the way you react to his actions drives him insane. You take it so well that there’s no need for him to be mean.
Deep down, he wants you to act up, not listen, or be disobedient. If that were the case, it’d give him even more of an excuse to be hard and fuck you dizzy.
Regardless, he’ll still do it.
Minho folds into irrationality, “you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”
You can barely look back at him but you can hear what’s going on behind you when his zipper comes down. Minho gets a hand around his dick once it’s finally free. He glides the tip between your wet folds, causing your entire body to shudder.
The thickness and length of his dick filling you out causes your brain to short circuit - so much that all you can do is hiss and moan.
“That’s it,” Minho breathes out, eyes watching his cock gradually disappear right in you. “Fucking take it all.”
With a couple of slow and steady strokes, he deliberately takes his time pushing in and dragging out, forcing you to feel every inch he gives. It’s tortuously slow but gives you some time to adjust to his length.
To test the waters a bit, Minho snaps his hips forward, driving an emphatic moan out of you. He pulls back then thrusts in again, harder, as a precursor to establish that at a consistent pace.
“Feel’s so fucking good,” Minho says through gritted teeth.
The satisfaction of it alone is enough for him to use both his hands to grope your ass. He kneads the flesh like he’s massaging it, then will suddenly squeeze so hard that it has you screaming and whining until tears prick your eyes.
His hand would relentlessly smack down on your ass every once in a while just to feel you involuntarily clench around him with each hit.
“Right…right there, yes fuck!” You cry out, fingernails digging into your palms.
Minho scoffs and rams his hips forward again in the hopes you’ll shut your mouth. The intention was clear to you, but you can’t help it when he gives it to you so well.
It’s exciting and eventful, especially when you feel like you’re about to go over the edge of an orgasm.
In that instance, Minho will usually use your face as an indicator of when you’re about to start coming. He’s used to seeing your eyes roll back or see your mouth part open even when no sound comes out. Even though your face is not in his view, he can still physically tell.
Since he’s stuffed you full with his cock, you’ve progressively gotten wetter over the minutes. Then having gone from moaning and calling out his name, you’re starting to go quiet on him.
As the knot tightening in the pit of your tummy begins to unravel, your eyes flash wide open. You suck in a large gasp of air just before you’re about to come, which is when Minho pulls out immediately.
There’s nothing for you to squeeze around as your body involuntarily convulses with zero pleasure. It slips through your fingers as you try to chase that earth-shattering feeling.  
“No…no, no, wait!” You sob while your hands shake.
From behind, Minho chuckles meanly and doesn’t say a word. He slides his cock into you once more, filling you back out with very little satisfaction coupled with it. The eye rolling sensation when he’s stuffed you to the hilt is absent. Every ounce of pleasure has escaped.
Minho thrusts into you once, twice, several times before he speaks again, “that was for talking back to me earlier and thinking you could get away with it.”
Tears slowly roll down the side of your face and onto the floor. Despite this, there wasn’t a second that went by where you thought about stopping.
Crying isn’t uncommon in the bedroom. For you, it stems from being so viciously overwhelmed by pain and pleasure that your body doesn’t know how to react to the intensity. Not to mention the frustration of having a sterling orgasm ruined in a matter of seconds.
Determined to be good for Minho, you continue to let him use you until his hips start to jump out of rhythm. It’s torture for him to hold back when all he wants is to bust a hot load inside of you. He knows it’s something you ask for at any given moment the two of you start fucking.  
However, Minho didn’t want to stray away from the purpose of the scene; putting you in your place. He’s not going to give you what you want until he’s satisfied that you genuinely deserve it.
As Minho rides the verge of an orgasm, he pulls out at the last second and comes over your ass with a few grunts and some swear words. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as coming inside you, but this wasn’t all about him.
For now, at least, he can admire the gorgeous mess he’s made on your skin - how it’s marked up as patches of deep red, and strings of glossy white.
“I’m going to help move you so that you’re kneeling okay?”
When Minho’s mind clears, he tucks himself back into his pants and helps lift you up with a bit of momentum. Once you’re upright and kneeling back on your heels, Minho spots your tears.
He crouches down to your level too, his face inches away from yours. He absorbs how ruined and dishevelled you are; red cheeks, tear stained face, and visibly spaced out.
“This is the only time I like seeing you cry,” Minho whispers against your wet lips.
His hand trails up to your throat, fingers ever so gently squeezing around the sides of your neck as he goes in to kiss you. You feel his tongue, and the wet heat of his mouth, all of which make you feel drunk.
Your hands want to touch him so badly, to feel his skin, muscles, everything. But the restraints on your wrists make it patently clear that you’re not allowed.
If Minho could hear your thoughts, he’d say you were being greedy. He’s already letting you be kissed by him and that’s more than enough based on what he thinks you deserve.
But out of nowhere, he rises from the floor, leaving you to try and chase after his lips. He walks over to the edge of the bed and returns with a vibrator.
Seeing that toy in his hand already has you whimpering in a way that makes him grin. You can see where this is going and it brings back the many sexual adventures he’s had with you whenever he incorporates some sort of apparatus that can make you cum your brains out.
“You’re dripping on the floor,” Minho alludes to the space between your legs and the ground.
Not that you can see it, but you undoubtedly believe him.
Usually, your first instinct is to cower and blush at an embarrassing remark like that. But it has you flustered for the wrong reasons and it’s all because Minho has shoved you into a frame of mind where you’ve lost all shame and dignity.
You’re dripping onto the floor because you can’t help it. All the welcoming pain he’s inflicted so far has fashioned into an uncontrollable reaction. That reaction is something Minho feeds off of. It makes him manic seeing the sweet results of his actions.
“This is what’s going to happen,” he starts, ignoring his excited nerves on the inside. “You’re going to tell me when you’re about to come. If you don’t, the scene ends. Got it?”
Even as spaced out as you were, his instructions were very simple. But it was a lot easier said than done and the unsure look on your face proved it.
The problem was that you could barely keep yourself from not being able to come when Minho was fucking you. Being edged with a vibrator will require just as much self-restraint if not more.  
“Wait, I-I don’t know if I can,” you mumble to him, barely able to blink.
“Is that so?” He asks, looking you dead straight in the eye. “Colour?”
There he goes again - reminding you with a simple question that no matter how many times you contradict yourself, Minho knows your best interests. At the same time, he needs to ask just in case you actually can’t continue the rest of the scene.
“Green.”
He chuckles to himself and goes to sit cross-legged in front of you, “stop doubting yourself kitten.”
Your breathing has already doubled in pace and gets even quicker when Minho turns the vibrator on and holds it against your clit. Your body seizes instantly on its impact, mouth pursed together to try and suppress your moans.
“There you go,” Minho exasperates breathily, watching your contorted expressions. “Look at that. I bet that feels good doesn’t it?”
You nod. It’s all you can do. The task of trying not to come takes up far more of your attention than attempting to answer a basic question. Minho understands that, but he’s not compassionate enough today to let it slide.
So he cranks up the setting on the vibrator to the highest level. Your mouth finally pries open, whimpering Minho’s name repeatedly and panting like you’re about to run out of air. The speed of the toy makes your hips jolt and buck even though there’s no room to fully move.
“Gonna…I’m gonna come,” you warn, eyes fluttering as the sensation between your legs intensifies.
Minho chooses not to listen and continues to hold the vibrator against your clit.
“P-Please, I’m almost...”
Your head tips back, chest heaving as your orgasm approaches before its highest peak.
“Minho please!”
Within a split second, the vibrator is gone and your body startles from the sudden lack of pleasure. Still profoundly dishevelled, your head lifts back up to glare right into Minho’s eyes.
“What?” He asks. “Did you really think I was going to let you cum? I don’t think you deserve to at this point.”
Even though Minho wasn’t explicitly clear that he was going to do it, you knew that was the moment when he started an edging session. In his mind, overstimulation would be counterproductive for you – a person who has been misbehaving a lot and shouldn’t get what they want for the time being.  
Before going back in with the vibrator, Minho begins to extend your limits. He reaches out for your nipple, pinching and rolling the nub between his finger and thumb. It makes you want to twist and turn, but with your hands bound to the sides of your knees, it’s difficult to get the movement you want.
Absorbing the contorted expressions on your face, he bathes in the sounds that come from your mouth. How your moans sound so aspirated and breathy then loud when the vibrator comes in contact with you for the second time.
There’s no preparation for the assault that toy has.
Your eyes squeeze shut in determination to eliminate any sort of pleasure inside you before it starts. Diverting an orgasm is no walk in the park and it gradually becomes more difficult. The first ‘edge’ Minho bought you to already chipped away at a significant portion of your energy. It was almost hard to grasp what you were going to be left with by the time he’s done with you.
As the vibrations rattle through the most sensitive parts of your body, Minho still doesn’t let up on your nipples, only switching to the other for more attention.
“You’re gonna be good and tell me when you’re about to come, right?” Minho assumes. “Don’t wanna disappoint me do you?”
You shake your head and swallow, “n-no.”
Seeing you become more obedient makes him smirk but also melt inside. It’s compelling enough to make him release your nipple from his fingers and use that hand to slink behind your neck.
His face closes the space towards yours, lips reaching you first. It was an odd contrast to the fact that he was being mean and had you bent over, spanked, and fucked.
Now he was being gentle.
Although, it’s no shock or surprise at how sensual Minho can be. It was the thin line between the two main shades of his personality at play.
Despite his soft touch and his tongue in your mouth, the pleasure growing inside was hard to ignore. Even though you wanted to keep kissing him, you were also under the instruction to tell him when you were about to come.
Being wordless wasn’t a hindrance for the man who’s fucked you an undisclosed amount of times. He knows your body - particularly the responses it gives when you’re being worked up.
Your breathing is jumpy and staggered. You’re moaning into and against his mouth, so much that he can feel the vibrations throughout his upper body. Just as your head tips back again, Minho catches your bottom lip and bites down.
Another loud moan escapes from your mouth just as you were about to come until Minho rips the vibrator away and leaves you shuddering.
“That was close wasn’t it?” He asks you with a small smile. His words almost made his soft and gentle nature look like a complete sham.
You jolt once more at the feel of the vibrator press once more to your sensitive clit. Already at this point, your body is so overstimulated that you think it’s impossible to build more pleasure. Every nerve inside you is on end as the euphoria escalates higher this time - greater than what you’ve felt at any point tonight.
The third ‘edge’ turned into the seventh, which turned into the twelfth, and landed you around in the twenties. Somewhere along the way, you had given up full control to Minho.  
He had succeeded in getting you to a point where you would begin to subconsciously obey him. Each time he would hold the vibrator to your clit and build you up to an orgasm, all you were capable of doing was muttering the word ‘coming’. After that, he’d pull his hand away, praise you, and wait until that orgasm dissolved before going back in.
It was repetitive - to the extent that Minho gave up tallying the many times he was edging you.
“You’re doing good for me,” he praises with a satisfied smile. “You like it so much don’t you?”
Regardless of whether he was going to extract an answer out of you at this stage, he can’t help but feel excited when you’re unable to speak. It means you’re past the verge of mindlessness - all the control you sought to harbour from him was wilfully given up.
To add to the torture, Minho would switch up the speed of vibrations every now and then. If he used the highest setting, your orgasm would build quicker before he pulls away. If he used the lowest setting, it would take longer to reach and harder to chase.
Both of these methods have you completely dazed and turned your brain into liquid. You make inaudible noises, ones that Minho finds interesting yet adorable. He’s completely stripped you back to an incoherent mess.
“Do you want to come?” Minho asks, watching you look up at him with tears in your eyes and a glazed expression. “Should I even let you come?”
Sentences are too complex for you let alone to be able to comprehend the question as your head lolls to the side. It’s impossible to simply answer while simultaneously trying to restrict yourself from coming. The latter is the one that sucks the most energy out of you and has been since Minho pulled that vibrator out.
But he sits on the idea of wanting to be merciful or absolutely brutal by not allowing you to come. Even though he was pushing the thirty minute mark of edging you to the point where you can’t speak or think, he was only half satisfied that you deserved it.
“You’ve been acting up quite a bit lately,” Minho reminds you. “Always getting me to do the work in bed, misbehaving, talking back to me…”
Your jaw is slack, still, no words come out. Instead, Minho continues to do all the talking while you try not to come without his command.
“I think you need to learn another lesson. If I don’t give you what you want, you’ll be good. But there’s always the risk that you’ll play up again,” Minho says, turning the vibrators’ speed up one notch. “Still, you’ve been good to me this evening and I want to reward your behaviour. What do you think I should do?”
“M-Min…I’m…”
They’re the only two words you’ve been able to say within the past half an hour. Minho knows you’re on the verge of coming if you start talking, and yet, he doesn’t do anything to stop you. He wants to test you, to assess how good you really are to him.
Before you start fumbling with more words again, your orgasm approaches its peak and by that time, it’s too late. Minho doesn’t even say anything about allowing you to come, you just do it regardless.
A couple of more tears roll down your face when you feel like you’re about to burst from the pressure in the pit of your stomach. None of what had been initiated an hour ago was anything short of overwhelming and all it does is continuously building aggressively.
Unable to keep up with the toy that’s pressed firmly against your clit, all you do is succumb to an out of body experience. Your head tips forward, chest heaving as your legs begin to shake in the restraints.
Minho lets out a conceited chuckle of disbelief, watching you cum over the vibrator. Whilst he appears rather annoyed that you didn’t listen to him, he cannot deny how amazing it is to see you orgasm so incredibly hard.
He revels while watching you lose your mind to the toy. This time, the ball of pleasure that has been growing exponentially doesn’t stop for anything. It makes for a blinding orgasm.
Spreading in surges and surges of pleasure, your body tremors at each one. Minho watches you while he’s completely dazed by how hard you’re actually coming. He can only stare as your orgasm shreds throughout every cell in your body until you’ve gone limp.
“Well, guess that answered that then,” he scoffs rather condescendingly then turns the vibrator off for the first time.
Since the low hum and buzz of the toy is no longer in his ears, Minho can now fully hear all of the tiny noises you’ve been making. He can hear you breathing heavily in staggers, the small, strained whines, and yet the one thing he can’t hear is you struggling against the restraints anymore.
You’ve just completely given up on trying to break free as if you have genuinely begun to enjoy the idea of not being able to move as you please.
That thought alone sends a reminder down to Minho’s now fully hard dick again. Now that you’ve unintentionally made him hard again, he wants to get his use out of this session to cum once more. This time, finally, inside of you.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” Minho growls in your ear.  
Before you know it, he’s lowering you carefully back down into the first position he secured you in, with your face down on the floor and your ass in the air.
The mess he made on you earlier was still there. Seeing it makes him sick with excitement now knowing he can do the same but inside of you. With that, Minho then frees his cock once more, rubbing the tip in between your wet folds. He pushes into your hole with ease, slicking his dick faster than he could imagine.
A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when he feels that velvety heat enclosed around him. It’s only come to his attention now just how achingly hard he is. As for you, you’re just floating absentmindedly, content with a warm fuzzy feeling inside of you as you swim around in a post-orgasmic haze.
When Minho begins to fuck you again, his ears drink up the wet sounds from in between your legs and the small whines that leave your mouth. He realises how much he enjoys it when his nails start digging into the flesh of your hips, screwing his eyes shut as he tries not to come early.
Minho just wants to be buried inside of you forever.
To top things off for him, he can feel you clenching around him. He knows for a fact that it’s not intentional because you’re in no headspace to even think right now. It then dawns on him that you’re having another orgasm.
“You’re coming again?” Minho questions in a degrading tone of voice.
Still, you can’t answer.
He chuckles deviously, almost like he’s gone mad as he keeps fucking you hard from behind, “such a slut. I already made you come once and now you’re going to come again?
Without giving a verbal answer, Minho can feel, see, and hear your actual response. The result of his cock repeatedly hitting the same sweet spot inside you has your eyes rolling back and ultimately makes you squirt.
Trembling uncontrollably once more, your walls are spasming around Minho’s dick while dripping constantly on the wooden floor.
“Holy shit,” he exasperates. “Baby.”
It’s the first time he’s made you squirt, and it takes him so much by surprise that he has to slide out of you and see the mess he helped you create. If Minho had his phone on him, he would’ve - without a doubt, taken a photo. Unfortunately, he was only able to do with a mental image, one that’s now permanently ingrained in his brain.
Rabid with excitement, Minho now knows what he needs to do next time.
He loses sight of his authority for a split second after getting too caught up in what just happened. With a shaky hand, he realigns himself with your entrance and glides back in effortlessly with a string of moans that leave his mouth.
“So fucking good for me,” Minho rasps, snapping his forward.
He gets himself into a steady, forceful rhythm and tries to drag out fucking you for as long as he can hold off. It’s difficult for him to not come when you’re so pliant and fucked out. Before he knows it, Minho is clawing into your skin again, coming hard that it causes his vision go slightly splotchy.
For a few moments, he slows his thrusts and allows his breathing to steady. To help ease himself back to earth, he continues to drag his cock in and out of your wet pussy. It was mind blowing for him just as it was for you. Minho then pulls out and observes you one final time.
The wet mess on the floor, on your ass, the way that you’re still dripping wet, the redness over your skin from his hands and belt earlier, how you’re bound on the floor - it could all easily make him hard a third time.
He almost feels high as a result, but he’s also reminded that he needs to move quickly - to get you out of your restraints. Minho unhooks all the cuffs and swiftly takes away the spreader bars before bringing you between his legs as you both rest against the bed, still on the floor.
The mess nearby doesn’t bother him at this stage. Right now, his focus is solely on you. Ensuring that you know he’s there even when you’re on cloud nine still is important. It’s the least he can do to ensure that you don’t go plummeting into subdrop - the worst possible outcome to subspace.
Coming down from two orgasms on such a large scale can be jarring if there’s no aftercare.
“Good girl,” Minho whispers in your ear, hoping that it’ll reach your mind that’s floating elsewhere. “You did so well for me baby.”
His arms have wrapped themselves around your body as he soothes you with gentle words of praise. From the mirror across the room, he can see how spaced out you look now. The frontal view of your body grants Minho to see just how yielding you are.
How vulnerable your body is to him right now.
His right hand lies across your abdomen while his left hand slowly makes its way down to your oversensitive clit. A small, strained whine escapes your mouth and like some sort of conditioned behaviour, your legs seem to slowly pry themselves further open.
Minho smirks. He seriously can’t get enough of you. If he hadn’t of fucked you already, he would’ve come untouched just seeing you so obedient.
“The things you do to me,” he whispers against the back of your shoulder.
Minho watches his fingers in the mirror and begins to wonder if they have minds of their own. They travel down slightly past your sensitive clit to the cum that has been leaking out of you. The pads of his fingers collect what’s of it, only to bring it back up to your clit, caressing and massaging around and over the nub.
Your reactions are subtle but effective for Minho to pick up on. He can tell that his fingers must feel different in comparison to the vibrator. They’re more attentive and soft which makes the sensation between your legs even greater and gets you over the edge quicker than ever.
“That’s it baby,” Minho encourages. “One more for me.”  
His eyes never leave the mirror - never leave from where his fingers are until he makes you tremble and come once more. Moans continue to lodge in your throat as Minho helps you ride out your high until every ounce of energy within you is spent.
Within the next twenty minutes, you are blissfully floating. It takes you a while to come down from such an intense session that by the end of it, you're left wondering how you have damp hair, a fresh pair of comfy clothes on, and now back on the bed.
Minho, who is sitting on the edge of the mattress, has been rubbing moisturising lotion onto your legs - especiallywhere your knees are. Next to him on the bed is a towel with a couple of ice packs for what you only can assume is for the tenderness that has started to emerge.
The aching around those areas was a reminder that you spent quite some time on the ground. Not to mention the restraints…
“Hi baby,” Minho says quietly, studying your tired face.
“Hi,” You reply, too exhausted to even move. “How long was I out for?”
He twists the lid back on the tub of lotion and sets it on the bedside table. He then grabs the towel and places it over both of your knees followed by an ice pack on each one.
“Not long. Ten minutes after we showered. You can go back to sleep if you want?” He replies.
You shake your head, “no it’s okay, I just want to see you.”
He smiles softly then scoots up the bed a bit to get closer to you, “how are you feeling?”
“Mm, good,” you hum. “A bit like jelly though.”
Minho chuckles, feeling a bit of guilt there, “yeah I’m not surprised. That would’ve taken a lot out of you.”
“I loved every bit of it though,” you reassure him.
The last thing you want is to place doubt in his mind about what he’s doing in the bedroom. Then again, Minho trusts you enough for you to go to him if there’s something you’re not comfortable with, and vice versa.
“Judging by how hard you actually came, I’m not surprised,” he says, which earns him a playful smack to his arm by you.
“Quiet,” you reply sarcastically. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“It was hot,” he replies, ignoring what you think about it. “So hot that I wanted to record it.”
“Maybe you should’ve…”
“We’ll discuss it next time,” Minho says then leans and meets your lips. He kisses you so softly and tenderly before coming back up. “For now, just rest as much as you need to. I’m ordering dinner then we can eat together while watching a movie.”
“Sounds perfect.”
-
A/N: Omg what is thisssss. Sometimes I surprise myself with some of the stuff that I wrote, but anyway, please enjoy. I really want to write another piece similar to this except the reader goes into subdrop. I’m not too sure if anyone will be interested in that but if anyone is, please let me know and I’ll write something up lol
Note: I strictly do not permit any copying, editing, rewriting or remakes of my work nor do I allow them to be uploaded to any other site or social media platform. Tumblr is the only site I use to post this type of content so if you see it elsewhere, then it has been stolen. 
944 notes · View notes
henrioo · 4 months
Text
°•*⁀➷ TWO AGAINST ONE: PORTGAS D. ACE
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Ace makes the mistake of eating one of your pregnant husband's sweets, you, now he needs to somehow earn her forgiveness. However, it seems that in this dispute, your son has already chosen who his favorite father will be."
꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MALE READER, FTM READER, TRANS MASC READER, PREGNANT MALE READER, MEN PREGNANT, BIOLOGICAL PREGNANCY, GAY RELATIONSHIP, Reader is a little dramatic, pregnancy dramas, unnamed baby but is a boy, Ace and you are married, Ace is a golden retriever and you're mean to him (just a little), Ace is a perfect dad and husband
꒰ WC ꒱ : 917
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Wow, more babies! Hahah who would have thought... Okay I wanted to say that it's the last baby story but it's not, At least next time I'll try to post another topic or you'd start to think I'm weird. The post was supposed to be yesterday and it was also supposed to be a late ask, but the ask is 7k words long and I'm having a serious problem translating it, so I'm going to post this other story today so I can have more time, enjoy!
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
"Love, honey, my husband, my man, my sweet, forgive me." Your husband, Ace, whimpered beside you as you lay on the reclining sofa, covered in pillows and with a soft blanket over your huge belly. You had an irritated expression and crossed arms, purposely ignoring him and pretending to pay attention to the television.
"I'm not talking to you," you snorted irritably, and if your feet weren't swollen and your legs weren't aching, you would have kicked his ass out of the house.
"I swear, I didn't know it was your chocolate! I thought it was mine... I'm sorry, my love," he was kneeling on the sofa next to you, his hands clasped together begging for forgiveness, and his puppy eyes were so sad that anyone would have accepted his apologies.
Anyone, except you. No, no, you were a pregnant man dealing with a very active baby and hormones so out of whack that you seemed like a ticking time bomb. You definitely wouldn't forgive your husband for eating the last of your chocolate stash. Especially because it was Sunday! The store that sold your favorite, expensive, artisanal chocolate only opened on Tuesdays. You would have to go two days without your chocolate because of your husband's stupidity in not checking who the chocolate belonged to before swallowing it!
Okay, you weren't exactly craving chocolate in the past few days, and that one had been stored for a long time... But that doesn't change the fact that he shouldn't have eaten it!
"I swear I'll buy the whole store for you to forgive me! Please, don't pout at me like that," he whined again as he lovingly rubbed your arm. Ace hated hurting you, no matter how small the reason. Now that you were pregnant, he tried his best to make you live in paradise, as he was extremely worried when he found out that stress could cause serious complications in pregnancy. Although Marco and Law tried to explain that it had to be an absurd amount of stress, he practically didn't listen and accepted as an absolute truth that even the smallest amount of stress was a deadly risk for you and the baby!
"I hate you," you murmured irritably, and your frustrated pout grew. You didn't like arguing with Ace and usually didn't care so much about something like this, but those damn hormones made you go crazy. One moment you were crying, and the next you were trying to set the house on fire with Ace inside. Then, you would go back to normal as if everything were fine. You could only think that this was Ace's punishment for taking so long to propose to you.
"What can I do to make you forgive me, my king?" he sighed and sat closer to you, kissing your arm and then trying to kiss your cheek, which resulted in you moving away. "You're breaking your poor husband's heart."
"I'll ask for a divorce if you keep annoying me," you said, trying to stay strong, although you were almost giving up on arguing and just getting lost in Ace's warm embrace.
"Ouch... So cruel," he whimpered and carefully laid on your belly, then gently stroked it, giving kisses on the shirt you were wearing. "Come on, little guy, help your old man make peace with your daddy. He'll put me to sleep on the couch if he stays like this," he whimpered, trying to get help from his unborn child.
Before you could reprimand Ace again, a kick was felt by both of you... Your baby had just kicked exactly where Ace's head was, making him startle and jump from the slight blow he received, causing both of you to widen your eyes in shock.
"Our son just kicked me?" he asked, confused and incredulous about the situation.
"Humph, looks like it's two against one now," you smiled triumphantly as you caressed your belly. "Our son is smart, he knows that this daddy here is the only one whose right," you continued teasing Ace, already feeling your mood improve and the anger dissipating.
"This is unfair! The two men in my life are ganging up against me!" he crossed his arms with a pouting expression.
"Think twice before eating my sweets next time," you shrugged. "You heard the baby, today Daddy Ace sleeps on the couch," you laughed, feeling some gentle kicks from your baby, as if he really agreed with you.
"This little rascal will have to deal with me when he's born... Stealing my husband, I was here before you," he muttered childishly as he glared at your belly. "And you, mister grumpy husband, I'm going to squeeze and kiss you until you're forced to forgive me! And if you try to kick me out of our room, I'll cry at the door like a stray dog," Ace made his threat, and before you could disagree, he threw himself on top of you, covering your face with kisses as he hugged you tightly. All you could do was laugh, feeling ticklish from his kisses. You didn't usually get mad at your husband so often, but if it meant having him as a repentant little puppy trying to win your forgiveness through affection and love... Maybe you would start getting mad more often, especially if your son would help you.
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋
190 notes · View notes
delicate-dorothea · 10 months
Note
Could I request a fic where tasm!Peter Parker finds the reader crying in a bathroom at a party because their date stood them up (maybe their date only asked them out bc of a bet or smth) and he comforts them?
Coffee at Midnight
Tumblr media
Thank you for the request! I did get a bit carried away while writing this and changed and added some things. As far as warnings go: unrequited love (not really), friends to lovers, Gwen is alive because she’s my baby and I said so, asshole!oc, violence (one punch), and a few swears.
masterlist
Your eyes are pooling with tears, you tilt your head back in an attempt to stop them from rolling down your face. The only thing you want is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 
If you had just listened to Peter you wouldn't be in this situation, you wouldn't be feeling like this. Your eyes well up even more at the thought of him. 
You met Peter in your sophomore year, you were in the library cramming at the last minute for a final, and he was the boy two tables over who was repeatedly clicking his pen while trying to finish his paper. 
It was safe to say you were at your wit's end, and from the look on his face, so was he. You remember packing up your things and slinging your bag over your shoulder before walking over to him. 
"Hi, I'm Y/n. I don't mean to bother you but I'm taking a break from studying and going to get some coffee. You seem like you could use one too, would you like to join me? Or could I bring you back something?" 
You remember already heading to the exit muttering an apology immediately after the words left your mouth, convinced that you were disturbing him. But when the sound of the chair scraping against the floor and his voice asking you to wait filled the room you came to a halt and glance back at him, watching as he hastily shoved his belongings in his backpack and met you at the door. 
"I'm Peter and I could use a break. I was seconds away from putting my head through a wall."
And that was it, one fifteen-minute coffee break (that was definitely needed) was all it took for you two to become friends, that night you two headed back to the library sitting together instead of apart, he quizzed you on the topics you knew were going to be on final, and you helped him finish his paper.
Over two years had passed since then and you two were thick as thieves. You got along great, too great. 
The two of you spent a lot of time together, time that caused you to realize that you didn't want him to be just a friend. 
But you knew Peter only viewed you in a platonic light, having told you about Gwen, his high school girlfriend who was studying abroad, and their on and off long-distance relationship. He loved her, not you. 
You decided that dating around would be the best way to squash your feelings for him. Which is how you ended up going out with Sam. 
Sam was a senior at ESU just like you and Peter. He introduced himself to you earlier this semester after running into you and a fellow classmate, his friend, on your way to take the train. A handful of encounters with him followed until he asked you out. 
To say you were hesitant to say yes to him was an understatement, especially when Peter was in your ear telling you that Sam didn't seem like the most trustworthy person. However, despite your uncertainty and Peter's concerns, you agreed to go on a date with Sam. 
The first date went well. He was a gentleman, he got to the restaurant early, bought a bouquet, pulled out your chair, paid for your meals, and waited with you while your cab came. You really enjoyed your date with him, so much so that you even kissed him on the cheek and asked when you could see him again. 
So your dates continued, and you found yourself growing extremely fond of Sam, much to Peter's dismay. It didn't matter what you said about your dates going well and Sam being a nice guy, he wasn't buying any of it. 
But his concerns continued to fall on deaf ears. Until you both had reached a breaking point, resulting in an argument earlier in the day at your apartment. 
"You don't even know Sam," you hissed at him.
"Oh, like you do? You went on three dates with him. You hardly know him," Peter countered. 
"The entire point of going on dates is for us to get to know each other, he hasn't said or done anything worthy of a red flag. Just because you think he's not trustworthy doesn't mean he actually is." 
"I don't need to know him personally to see that he isn't the nice guy you think he is. You are the people you surround yourself with, and if you opened your eyes and saw all the assholes he associates himself with you'd realize that's just as bad as them." 
You open your mouth to reply but he continues speaking, "And honestly if you can't see that or worse are turning a blind eye to it you're just as bad as them. He's going to break your heart, and when he does I'm not going to give you a shoulder to cry on, because I've said my peace. You do what you want." There was nothing you could say in response because he was already out the door. 
You weren't sure if Peter meant what he said, or not. You wanted to believe it was just his frustrations talking. And with that you put on a tall face as you also leave and head to the party Sam and his friends were throwing, choosing to ignore the ache in your chest from Peter leaving like that, telling yourself that it's better to give him some room to cool down before speaking to each other
Music is blaring through the speakers when you walk in, so loud you can feel the floor vibrate. You do a scan of the living room in search of Sam, walking further into the party when you don't see him. You were nearing the kitchen when you heard him. His voice was booming as he tried to talk over the music. 
"Yeah, she's supposed to be here tonight." 
"I can't believe she hasn't let you hit yet," a voice, presumably one of his friends says. 
"Neither can I. I tried to woo her on the first date, got her flowers, paid, and waited afterwards for her ride, thinking she'd ask me to go back to her place with her. I thought I'd be having my dick sucked at the end of the night. All I got was a fucking kiss on the cheek."
"Why'd you go on more dates then? If she didn't fuck you the first time around," another voice adds.
"I'll wear her down. Right now I'm the sweet guy. She likes me, it's only a matter of time before I have her bent over a table. Man, with a body like that? The chase will be worth it, I'm thinking tonight is the night too." 
There are a few seconds between the end of the current song and the start of the next, seconds in which you hear them collectively decide to leave the kitchen, and seconds that you used to maneuver through the crowd and into the bathroom. 
And here you are, staring at the ceiling trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to roll down your face, rocking back and forth on your heels in an attempt to soothe yourself. 
You wanted to get out, to call Peter and say you're sorry, but you don't. 
What if he's still upset with you? What if he was being serious about not going to him when things go south? How hard would it be for you to slip out of the party without being spotted by Sam or his friends? They didn't even see you come in.
The knock on the door interrupts your train of thought. "Just a minute," you say. 
"Y/n, it's me, open up." 
You open the door a crack to see him, "Peter?"
His hand moves to push the door open further, just enough for him to squeeze through and shut it behind him, "Are you okay?" He asks, cupping your cheeks to inspect your face.
You want to lean into his touch, and he thinks you will when you put your hands over his, but you only do so to pull them away. "I'm okay, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." You take the opportunity to apologize. "I was feeling a little overwhelmed and needed to be alone, to collect my thoughts. I'm alright now. Probably just going to go home now." 
"Oh, okay. I could walk you." He said fiddling with his hand unsure of what to do with them now. "Only if you want me to, of course." 
You only nod your head in response. With Peter here, you felt better, leaving the party and being seen no longer made you as anxious as it once did.
The two of you exit the bathroom, Peter's hand on your back as you move through the crowd with ease. You start to believe that you just overthink leaving, you couldn't see Sam or any of his friends. 
However, just because you could see them, doesn't mean they can't see you. Something you realized as you heard a voice shout over the music, "Are you fucking kidding me?" People turn in the direction of the voice, yourself and Peter included. Your eyes widen as Sam comes into view, pushing his way past people to get to you. 
"I invite you to this party, I take you on dates, and you're leaving with another guy? You're such a bitch." He spat out. 
You were about to speak but Peter is quick to jump to your defense. "Don't fucking talk to her like that." 
Sam gets in Peter's face, "I can do what the fuck I want, all she's done is waste my time, she owes me." 
Peter pushes him, "She doesn't owe you shit, if she wants to leave, she can." 
"Don't fucking touch me," Sam says, pushing him back. "If you want to fuck her, just wait till I'm done, I worked too hard just to be turned down." 
Everything was happening fast, but Peter's fist connecting with Sam's jaw happened even faster, mumbling to him about "watching his fucking mouth." 
He doesn't give Sam the opportunity to react or retaliate, he simply takes your hand in his and leads you out. 
A silence falls over the both of you as you walk, only to be broken as you wait for the light on the crosswalk to change. "Thank you for looking out for me." He gives your hand three squeezes, "Y/n, I" he starts, only to stop himself, it's clear he's trying to carefully craft his next words.
"You deserve someone who's actually a good person, not some asshole who pretends to be just to get laid. You could do so much better than that guy. What did you even see in him?" 
You sigh and hang your head, before admitting, "I'm just trying to get over someone. He was nice and cute, I figured a few dates wouldn't hurt. Obviously, that was exactly what he wanted to happen, and I played into it. He wasn't wrong about me wasting his time, I did, I was wasting mine as well. I knew I didn't really like him, but I figured if I spent more time with him I would."
"You're getting over someone?" You can feel him staring at you, waiting for your reply. "Yeah, it's a one-sided thing." 
"Oh, so you told him?"
"No, he-" 
"Well, then how do you know it's one-sided if he doesn't know?" 
The light flickers from the red hand to the walking person and you begin to cross the road, pulling him along with you, "He has someone, someone he loves. There's no point in saying anything. It'll only make things weird." 
"Understandable…how come you never said anything about him?" 
"Why would I? Discussing a crush makes it even more real. I would like to keep all those feelings right here and hope it goes away." You use your free hand to poke yourself in the chest. 
"I'm getting over someone too, at least trying to," he confesses. 
"You and Gwen broke up again?"
"Gwen and I haven't been together since winter break of last year. We broke up for good then. We’re still friends. But our relationship ran its course." 
You were puzzled, you could have sworn they were still a thing. You remember him talking on the phone with her the other day, his smile was beaming while they spoke.
"What?" You stopped walking, bringing him to a halt as well. "You were literally blushing and giggling on the phone with her the other day." 
"She knows about the girl. She's the one that made me realize actually." 
"Oh," you were genuinely surprised at this. 
"Oh, indeed. We had made plans to meet up during the break and I just talked about her to Gwen. It was so bad. At some point she cut me off and was like 'You like her' and I tried to deny it because that's what I thought the truth was but she didn't hesitate to call me out on my shit." He motions his head to the side, silently asking for you to keep walking. 
"There were no hard feelings or anything like that. I'll always love her, she's my first love after all, but it's different, I only love her as a friend now," he continued. 
"That's actually really nice, but I don't expect anything less from Gwen. She's a gem. Have you told the girl about how you feel?" 
Peter shakes his head, "That's what we were talking about on the phone; how to tell her. There have been a few times where I was going to but I always chicken out in the end." 
"I didn't realize Spider-Man was a scaredy cat." You tease. 
"Hey!"
"Oh hush, you've stood toe to toe with the most heinous people but you can't tell a girl you like her? The worst thing she can say is no." 
"It's not the same. The worst those people can do is kill me, that's fine. But being rejected by her? The idea alone makes me want to die."
"Tell me about her." You wanted to know. If Gwen was no longer in the picture, romantically, then you wondered who it could be. You want it to be you, you hope it is. Encouraging him to talk about her would either back the idea that he likes you, or you'd be able to rule yourself out. 
"She's amazing, she's smart and pretty, so caring, that's actually how we met." 
"It is?" 
He hums and starts to swing your hands back and forth, "In the library a few years ago. It was just the two of us, she came over to the table I was at and told me she was going to get coffee, and asked if I wanted to join or if she could bring something back for me. Can you believe that? Total stranger, trying to save the both of us from burning out." 
Your smile grows as he finishes, "Wow, what a strange coincidence, that's exactly how I met my guy." His shoulders relax and he lets out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank god. I'm your guy?"
"You are." You look away when you say this. 
"You went out with that dickhead because you thought I didn't like you? I like you so much, too much even!" He exclaimed. 
"You had a girlfriend, at least I thought you did. You don't tell a guy you have feelings for him while he's in a relationship. Moving on was the best option. Saying something would have made things weird or worse, you'd stop being my friend. I value you and our friendship too much to risk losing it." 
This time it was Peter who stopped walking, "I felt the same way, you mean so much to me. I was afraid that saying something would fuck up everything. Gwen was hyping me up to finally ask you out, then Sam happened and I didn't sweat it at first. But then you continued to see him and my confidence dipped." 
You let go of his hand, moving both your hands to cup his face, "Can I kiss you?" You asked. 
Peter smiles and nods his head, "Please." 
You shut your eyes and lean in, your lips capturing his. You can feel Peter grin into the kiss. His hands circle around your waist, fingertips slipping under your shirt and brushing against your skin as he pulls you closer, deepening your kiss. A fuzzy feeling fills your body when he does so. 
You pull away to look at him, you can feel your heart swell at the blush spreading across his cheeks. 
"Y/n?" You only hum in response, "I know it’s already midnight and this isn't exactly how I planned on asking you out, but that coffee shop we went to the night we met is a few blocks away…and if you'd let me, I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee and one of those pastries you like." 
There's a twinkle in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even say it. "I'd like that very much." 
883 notes · View notes
Unpredictable, Part 9-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic
A/N: I'm finally updating! Thanks for your patience. Also, I didn't fully rewatch the episode so there will be some differences. Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist. Also, if you were on the taglist and aren't on it for this post, it just means when I typed your username, it didn't pop up. Enjoy!
Word count: 7.1k
Warnings: Swearing, sensuality, some angst, and general reader! insecurities about relationships
Series Masterlist
Taglist: @badbishsblog, @gardenof-venus, @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog , @darksoul100, @simiinthemirror
Tumblr media
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the blood around my mouth. The coppery taste made my stomach lurch as I sat up and touched my mouth.
At least it was dried blood.
The second thing I noticed was the dejected expression on Cate’s face as she sat up on the couch across from me. She stared down at the ground, but she wasn’t looking at anything. For a second, I started to reach a hand towards her but stopped when I remembered what she’d done.
Just as I set my hand back in my lap, Marie and Jordan jerked awake, making me flinch in the process. It wasn’t until I settled a little that I noticed they were flanking me, and I looked down at my lap to hide my wide smile and warm cheeks.
“Is this real?” Marie asked.
“Yes, this is real,” Cate confirmed.
Immediately, Jordan jumped to his feet and shifted to their female form. They grinned so widely at the result that their dimples showed and Marie visibly relaxed next to me. Then, I noticed Marie glance at me.
Maybe if it worked for Jordan…
I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what else would unfold in the day. Instead of a picture, all I saw were hazy black and gray figures in my mind and it felt like my brain had hit a wall. I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head.
“Really?” Marie asked, placing her hand on top of mine.
“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered, slowly pulling my hand away.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, your powers should come back soon,” Cate voiced hoarsely.
 I thought I nodded as I slowly moved to my feet. “I’m gonna go clean myself up.”
“Do you need any help?” Jordan offered.
“No, I got it.”
 After a few minutes of wandering through Dusty’s house, I found a semi-clean bathroom and locked the door as soon as I walked in. The faucet handles were slippery, and it took a few tries before I finally got the water running. When I reached for the paper towel roll on top of the toilet, I realized that my hands were trembling.
“Stop it, Y/N, calm down,” I hissed. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry ran through my head like a mantra as I patted my face with warm water.
“I do not need my powers to be myself,” I muttered. “I’m still me even if I can’t see potential future outcomes.”
Or help my friends or loved ones or pass any crim classes or get a job as a supe.
Then, I was thankful that the running water drowned out my sobs since I wasn’t sure how much of a noise blocker my hand was. I almost collapsed over the sink as my back shook with sobs and the hot tears ran down my face.
No matter how much I wanted to stop crying, I couldn’t. It was like all those years of holding it back made me incapable of doing it in the moment.
Why did this happen to me? Why do I have to get screwed over all the time? bitterly ran through my mind.
I never did anything to Cate to deserve this, nothing at all and she wiped me twice without thinking of the consequences. Wiping two days’ worth of memories from four people’s minds must have been a first for her. There was no telling what that could have done to her powers, and she still did it.
I don’t know why my brain decided that was the time to remember Cate’s playful smile when she talked me into sneaking off campus with the others or her sincerity when I processed my feelings about Jordan and Marie with her. My chest ached and it wasn’t like I had a chest cold----it was almost like I took a direct blow from Luke, but it ached worse than that.
None of Cate’s actions made sense at the moment. Shetty must have put in a lot of effort to manipulate her because she was my friend, almost like the big sister I never had. When I really thought about it, Cate was one of my most attentive friends. Whenever I was stressed or anxious, Cate would take me to her favorite campus green to meditate; when a creepy guy approached me at a party or club, Cate was one of the first people to intervene; and she always insisted that I joined her, Jordan, Andre, and Luke for study groups.
I had to know how she could go from that to rendering me powerless. As I finished cleaning the blood from around the left side of my mouth and nostril, a sinking feeling came over me.
If Shetty could do that to Cate then what had she done to me?
Knock! Knock!
The sound made me jump and shook me out of my stupor.
“One second!” I called, frantically wiping at the other side of my face.
As I stared at my reflection, I internally winced at my red, puffy eyes. It would take at least three rounds of Peter Thomas Roth under eye masks and endless eye drops to remedy them.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Marie’s voice softly called.
I almost froze and huffed.
“Oh, I’m fine.” I sniffled and wiped at my nose.
“I’ll believe you when you open the door.”
Did Marie have some sort of fixation with seeing me at my worst?
“Seriously, you can go back to the others,” I tried to insist.
“If you don’t, I will break down this door.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
Marie paused. “Jordan would.”
I huffed and threw the used tissues and paper towel in the trash can. After taking three deep breaths to calm myself, I unlocked the door and let Marie in. She immediately entered the room, forcing me to back up. Slowly, her hands grabbed the sides of my face, and she looked me over, eyes softening at the bits of blood I hadn’t been able to clean.
Then, I carefully grabbed her hands and started pulling away. “You don’t have to get that close to see that I’m fine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Marie apologized, then, she frowned. “Actually, no. After everything you said, you pushed me and Jordan away and ran as soon as we woke up; it’s confusing.”
I sighed and turned away from her as I grabbed more paper towel. “I’m sorry. After everything that happened when we were in Cate’s head, I didn’t want you or Jordan to see me like this…again.”
As soon as I turned towards the sink, Marie stepped in front of me and gently took the paper towel out of my hands. She gestured towards the toilet, and I sat on the seat as she wet the paper towel in the sink. After a few seconds, she turned off the faucet and leaned down in front of me.
Marie’s gaze was laser-focused as she cleaned up the rest of my face. The silence in the space was comfortable but I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my braids as she worked.
“When are you gonna understand that Jordan and I don’t care if you don’t look perfect all the time?” she finally uttered. “They just told you how we’re all messy in our own way and it’s okay that you’re a part of it.”
“I didn’t think I had any more tears left in me but I guess I was wrong,” I muttered with a shrug.
Marie hummed in response as she continued gently wiping my face. A few more seconds passed until she was finally done.
“Finding you and Cate scared the shit out of me,” she stated. “It felt like the ground fell out from under me and I had no idea what to do. Jordan had the idea of slowing down your heart rates and it worked but, I’m scared to think what would happen if it didn’t.”
“But it did work because you have amazing powers.” I grabbed her hands. “You saved me, and Cate and I know you’ll save more.” Then, I let go of her hands. “Well, not know-know.”
“Hey, you’ll get your powers back. We’ll figure something out,” Marie insisted. “But what if we don’t” hung on the tip of my tongue and I didn’t let it fall out. Instead, I watched Marie throw away the dirty paper towel and then she grabbed my hands.
“It’s okay to let us help you,” she said.
“But, you’ll get tired---”
“I won’t and I know Jordan won’t either. People take care of each other in relationships.”
I looked down at our clasped hands. “That’s all…new for me.”
Marie squeezed my hands. “Me too but, I know the basics.”
Having a loving family must have been nice; at least Marie had a normal baseline for how to be in a relationship. Then, I realized that she kept looking at me.
“What? Is there something else on my face? Did my eyes get worse?” I rambled.
Marie laughed. “No, your face is fine; pretty.”
My cheeks warmed at her words, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my lips. Then, I felt myself lean towards Marie and she quickly closed the gap. Her lips were slightly chapped but mostly soft against mine. As I pressed my lips against hers, I let go of Marie’s hands and tangled my hands in her twists. Marie’s hands ghosted up my hips and underneath my cardigan, pulling me closer to her.
I sighed at the feeling but didn’t stop kissing her. Somehow, Marie didn’t break the kiss as she stood, pulling me to my feet and running her hands up and down my back.
I could have stayed like that for a while but a scream followed by banging interrupted.
“SAM!” Emma yelled.
We broke apart and I grabbed Marie’s hand and tugged her out of the bathroom with me. When we got to the living room, it was a mess. On one end of the room, Jordan and Andre were picking themselves off the floor and trying to avoid all the broken glass and other furniture casualties. On the other end, Sam held a weak Cate up against a wall that already had a sizable hole in it. Based on the dust on Cate’s clothes, Sam had attacked her. Emma stood behind Sam, eyes wide but her voice calm. “Sam, it’s okay, you can let her go.”
“She hurt you---she made you forget,” Sam griped.
“But I’m okay now, everyone is okay now. You can let her go, she’s not going to hurt anyone else.”
It was hard to gauge how much I agreed with the last part of Emma’s statement, but I doubted Cate would go after one of us again soon. Slowly, Sam let her go and Cate collapsed on the ground, gasping. Marie hurried over to Cate’s side to help her up and Sam backed away from them, eyes still boring holes in the top of Cate’s head.
My eyes flitted to Emma, who seemed a little more relieved, and ran a hand through her messy hair.
“Why is your hair that messy?” I asked.
“What is it with people asking me that today? Why is your lip gloss smudged?”
Then, Jordan turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “Great timing, freshie.”
I thumbed at my lips and my cheeks warmed even more. “Get your head out of the gutter. Anyway, what brought you two back here?”
Emma straightened up. “We were looking for you guys because I wanted, well, actually, Sam has something he would like to say.”
Then, Emma gave Sam the same look her mom gave her when she needed her to improve on a take. Suddenly, Sam’s shoulders slumped, and he pouted as he gazed at the tips of his dirty sneakers.
“I’m sorry for almost killing you guys…twice. I’m working on getting better control of my emotions but being locked up for eighteen years really screws with your head,” Sam stated.
The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Cate’s eyes never left Sam as if she was waiting on him to pounce again; Marie frowned; Andre’s jaw clenched so hard that I wasn’t sure he would speak for a while; and Jordan cocked her head to the side.
Finally, Andre said, “You didn’t almost kill us.”
“Fifteen more seconds and he might have,” Jordan admitted.
“My head is still sore from the last time we met but I’m willing to move forward if you stop attacking us on sight,” I added.
“I’m really sorry about that. You’re Y/N, right? Emma talks about you all the time,” Sam commented.
I grinned. “Oh, really?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, she was saying that you’re great but clueless about relationships and----”
Emma patted Sam’s chest. “Okay, Sam, that’s enough. We don’t have time to talk about that because of the other thing.”
I narrowed my eyes at Emma. “Clueless, seriously?”
She smiled sheepishly and I sighed.
Unfortunately, Emma wasn’t fully wrong, but she didn’t have to tell Sam that. Besides, I was working on it.
For the next few minutes, the two filled us in on everything that was going on in the Woods. How Shetty had Dr. Cardoza experimenting on supes and how several people Sam knew down there got sick. Even though most of them got better, a couple died.
“And they never experimented on you?” Andre asked.
“Not the way they did with Tommy. He was super messed up but a funny guy. One day, they took him away for a session with Cardoza and I never saw him again,” Sam recalled.
“And Shetty knows about all of this and is doing nothing to stop it?” Marie confirmed.
“She hates supes; she wants us all dead,” Sam griped.
Cate shook her head. “That…that can’t be true. Indira always helped me and Y/N.”
Jordan glared at her. “Come on, Cate. Shetty manipulated the shit out of you because she knew we were getting too close.”
“And I want to know why she wanted the two of us to be so close,” I added.
Cate bit her bottom lip and played with the hem of her sweater. “This…this is a lot.”
I nodded. “But it sounds like they’re working on a virus that targets supes. Based on what Sam described, maybe they picked strong supes that weren’t as useful as Sam to be guinea pigs.” “So, they come up with a virus to kill all of us?” Andre asked.
“I don’t know if that’s the goal, though. Vought has invested way too much money in making supes and if all the GOD U students dropped dead, that’s the next lineup of the Seven gone,” Jordan interjected.
“And society is built around supes, and the fallout would be bad,” Marie said.
“But if Shetty hates us so much, she wouldn’t care,” I thought.
“How is she getting away with this when Vought watches everything? She has to report to them all the time,” Jordan wondered.
Since Brink died, Shetty had to have even more people working under her than before. It would be easy to have certain people cover up for her or maybe the woman was gifted at hiding heinous plots. Seeing how much effort she put into manipulating Cate, there was no telling how far Shetty was willing to go to hide the Woods.
“Shetty could lie on the reports; it’s not like Vought reads through everything carefully,” I pointed out.
“So, what do we do?” Emma asked.
At the moment, I wished that I had my powers. It would have made it much easier to come up with a plan. Instead, I didn’t try but racked my brain for ideas.
“I can help here,” Cate announced.
Everyone turned to her in unison, and no one looked confident. In all honesty, Sam seemed to be contemplating going after her again; Emma looked as though she wished Cate would stop talking; Andre somehow clenched his jaw more; Marie side-eyed her; and Jordan’s glare almost made me feel bad too. I tried to relax my shoulders and forced myself to listen.
“I know that no one trusts me right now but, I am the only one with a direct line to Indira,” Cate said. “Please, just let me try.”
“How do we know you won’t turn on us again?” Andre asked.
“I won’t, I promise,” Cate insisted.
“Yeah, well, your promises don’t mean shit to me right now,” Andre hissed.
“I agree with Andre; after this, anything’s possible,” Emma said.
Cate hesitated and turned to me. “Y/N, please, you know me. I may have messed up but I wouldn’t do it twice.”
A part of me wanted to believe her, really, but the other part was the giant gaping wound of being manipulated so badly that I had no powers. My stomach sunk when I looked at her and I suddenly felt nauseous.
I hugged my arms tightly around my waist. “I don’t know, Cate. I want to trust you again, but it’s difficult.”
Cate’s expression fell and I didn’t know if I wanted to comfort her or scream at her. Everything was so confusing and it didn’t help that I had this gnawing feeling that something else was going on; something that none of us knew.
Marie stepped forward to stand next to Cate. “I think this could be a good first step for you to start earning our trust, but I don’t blame Y/N for feeling how she feels.”
“Same here,” Jordan agreed.
I smiled at their words and had to fight to keep myself from crying even more.  
After some deliberation, we decided that Cate, Andre, Marie, Jordan, and I would focus on getting Shetty to expose her plot while Emma helped Sam hide from Vought or Shetty or whoever he’d upset.
That decision led me to leaning against the wall in a booth at an off-campus diner. It was fairly quiet, save for the handful of families laughing with their kids and the game that was on the outdated TV perched on a corner stand. Even though there was a giant plate of fries and greasy burgers on the table, barely anyone ate. I couldn’t stop staring at Cate, who was on her phone in the front corner of the restaurant.
“Can anyone hear anything?” Andre asked.
“No,” Marie said.
“And she’s not even facing us so we can’t even try lip reading,” I muttered.
Marie turned to me. “You know how to lip read?”
“Yeah, every crim major does. It’s part of the body language class,” I explained.
Marie nodded slowly. “This school is nuts.”
“We know,” Jordan muttered.
Finally, Cate hung up the phone and wandered back over to us. “I can’t see her yet; she’s in the city all morning.”
“What does that mean?” Jordan asked.
“I’ll have to wait at her house and get her to talk then,” Cate said.
Andre shook his head. “That’s too much time.”
“Did she sound different or suspicious of you?” Marie asked.
“No, she sounded fine. I’m sorry this isn’t turning out how we hoped.”
Based on her slumped shoulders, I guessed that Cate was telling the truth. The situation was both irritating and relieving since my list of questions for Shetty grew every minute and I was itching to ask them, but I was also thankful for a chance to gather my bearings. The thought of confronting her made me fidget since Shetty had helped me a lot.
How could someone be so kind and so hateful at the same time?
“…and stay out of our heads!”
Jordan’s exclamation jerked me from my thoughts, and I watched them shift to their male form and storm out of the diner. Andre ran his hand over his face and started messing with a straw while Cate looked down at her gloved hands.
“I’ll be back,” Marie muttered, slipping out of the booth and trailing after Jordan.
I blinked and turned back to Cate and Andre. “Sorry, what did I miss?”
“Jordan’s pissed because we have to wait at Shetty’s to get any info out of her and we’re on a timer pretty much,” Andre explained.
“This is all my fault,” Cate muttered.
Instead of answering, I dumped a handful of fries on my plate and started using them to make patterns in the ketchup between bites. When I bit into a burger, I almost moaned at the taste.
Either I was ravenous, or this place had decent food.
When I glanced back up, Cate and Andre stared at me.
I swallowed. “I got hungry.”
“You’re not gonna go after your…partners?” Andre asked.
I straightened up and continued munching on a fry. “We never labeled ourselves as anything and Marie’s got it.”
“Well, I’m glad the three of you have figured something out,” Cate offered.
“Thanks, but, I don’t know how much we have figured out.”
With everything going on, I never paused to think about how this relationship would work. In all honesty, I was shocked that I was able to tell Jordan and Marie how I felt and even more when both reciprocated. But I wondered what happened from here. How did we figure that out?
“It takes time,” Cate answered.
I snapped my eyes up to her. “Could you not probe my mind for a second?”
“Sorry, I can’t help it right now.”
Just as I was going to take another bite, my phone buzzed in my lap.
M: Come outside.
I quickly typed back, Omw.
“If I’m not back soon, just get a box for me.”
“Got you,” Andre said.
When I got outside, the chill made me wrap my cardigan tighter around me. Fortunately, Jordan and Marie were just around the corner and it was a short walk. Just as I got around the corner, the two were kissing. It only lasted a few seconds until Jordan pulled away, a smirk on his face, and I imagined Marie had a similar expression.
“What was that about my bad timing?” I called.
Marie turned at the sound of my voice and Jordan’s smirk deepened.
“Don’t be jealous,” he sang.
Funnily enough, I wasn’t jealous the first time I caught them; just shocked and confused. This time, watching them made me smile all over.
I rolled my eyes at Jordan’s words and sauntered over to them. “Please tell me you didn’t make Marie summon me in an attempt to make me jealous.”
“He didn’t make me do anything, but I thought you should be a part of this conversation,” Marie explained.
Then, Marie launched into hers and Jordan’s idea to break into Shetty’s office, find damning evidence of the Woods and the virus, and bring it to Victoria Neuman. The more she talked, the more the uneasiness set in.
“That town hall is happening today so it’s perfect timing,” Marie concluded.
Jordan looked at me expectantly and I glanced at the giant blue and red poster of the political candidate on the side of the building. Politicians had this strange fixation on looking hopeful, trustworthy, and powerful in all their photos. According to Coco, it was one of the most challenging parts of the field. No matter what any politician did, it all seemed fake to me. Maybe it was because I could see what they would really do if they were elected.
Even though I couldn’t use my powers, something about Victoria Neuman seemed off to me.
“Say it, freshie,” Jordan encouraged gently.
“In theory, I think it’s a good idea to get this information to someone with massive influence,” I started.
“But,” Marie said.
“But I have a weird feeling about her, actually, I’ve been having a weird feeling all day now,” I admitted.
“This is our best shot to expose Shetty right now,” Marie argued.
I nodded. “And I’m not saying not to take it. I’m saying I’m not sure how it’ll play out.”
“Is this about your powers?” Jordan asked.
“No, sort of, anyway, like I said, if you want to go rogue, do it.”
“You’d be coming with us too.” Marie reached a hand towards me, and I unfolded my arms to let her play with my fingers.
I sighed. “But I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.”
“This is gonna sound cheesy as hell, but you don’t need your powers to be helpful. You figured out that Cate manipulated you twice and you figured out that their goal in the Woods is to create a virus against supes. And you did all that without your powers,” Jordan pointed out.
“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Marie added.
I smiled and flipped my braids over my shoulder. “If you say so.”
Marie shook her head and Jordan grabbed my other hand.
“So, this may not be the best time to ask but are we…”
“You’re my girlfriend,” Jordan answered.
“Our girlfriend,” Marie corrected.
“She asked me out first.”
“No, I didn’t. I told you I liked you first,” I argued.
Jordan shrugged. “Same thing.”
Marie swatted Jordan’s arm with her free hand. “This relationship isn’t a competition.”
“Said the sore loser.”
Just as they were about to start bickering, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I let go of Jordan’s hand to grab it, ignored his feigned insulted gasp, and swiped through it. Sydney had texted Sasha, Alina, Lydia, and me in our group text.
S:911. Meeting in an hour.
“As much as I would love to continue this, I have to go to Si Chi,” I said, slipping my phone back in my pocket.
“Really? Now?” Jordan asked.
“Emergency meeting and I need time to get ready. I’ll text you both later.”
When I moved to hug Marie, she pecked my lips instead and I flinched. She smiled mischievously and I blinked at her.
“And I thought you were this shy, sweet freshman,” I muttered.
“I learn quickly,” she teased.
I shook my head and turned to Jordan, who immediately pressed his lips against mine, hands roaming all over my back. I was in a daze as he moaned but when one of his hands squeezed my butt, I yelped and jumped away.
“Jordan!” I rasped.
Even though Jordan apologized, he did not look sorry at all. As I sauntered off to get an Uber, I couldn’t help but wonder what I had gotten myself into but couldn’t deny the buzz of excitement at the thought.
Exactly fifty-five minutes later, I sat in the large conference room in Si Chi, freshly showered and made up. The cherry red Ralph Lauren tennis mini dress and white Chanel platforms paired with my braids swept up in a messy bun made me feel exposed but pretty. A minute later, Alina and Lydia waltzed in together. Alina’s hair was in a low bun with pieces framing her face and her black long-sleeved Naked Wardrobe skirt set flowed around her with each step. Lydia wore a deep plum Givenchy blazer over a white Oxford and dark Levi’s, her deep auburn hair fell around her shoulders in soft curls.
Immediately, Lydia took a seat across from me while Alina took a seat on my right.
“Hi, Lydia, Alina,” I greeted.
“Hi, Y/N,” Lydia chirped.
“Hi,” Alina said.
 As soon as they sat, Sydney breezed in, her knit white DKNY dress catching the light as well as her diamond studs. She pushed a wavy strawberry blonde tendril out of her face as she took a seat at the head of the table and set her canvas Marc Jacobs tote on the glossy table.
“Hello, girls,” Sydney said.
“Hello, Sydney.”
Our unified voices sent a chill down my spine.
Finally, Sasha burst in, sweat coating her forehead as she quickly took the seat next to Lydia and adjusted her deep green wrap dress. “Sorry, there was a big crowd because of the rally.”
“It’s okay, Sasha. Just remember to factor in big events when you’re commuting for other meetings,” Sydney advised evenly.
Sasha seemed to gulp and nodded.
“That leads me to the topic of this emergency meeting. I know that the town hall on campus is going to be packed and it’s been a hot topic for weeks since it was announced. This morning, all the Greek presidents met and determined that each house will decide their own policy for attendance,” Sydney explained. “I’ve debated this for a while. Our high standards and reputation attract ambitious women and plenty of them will want to attend the town hall. However, I am also concerned about the safety of this event since there is so much opposition on both sides.”
Sydney paused.
“That is why I believe that no Si Chi girl should attend the event,” Sydney stated.
Even though she worded it softly, Sydney was forbidding all of us from attending. If anyone was caught, that would mean an automatic exit from the house.
“It’s especially important for us as leadership to be role models for the initiates. We must choose our events wisely and we don’t want any of them risking anything because of their ideologies or to try to go viral,” Sydney explained.
“It makes sense. Those pro-supes are rowdy,” Lydia agreed.
And ignorant, I thought.
“I’m all for supe rights but I don’t want to be caught in a riot,” Alina added.
“How do we communicate this to the other girls?” Sasha asked.
“Y/N can send something out in the house Discord.” Sydney smiled at me. “You know how to make it tasteful but authoritative.”
As much as I appreciated the compliment, I couldn’t stop thinking of how to persuade her. If I had my powers, this would be nothing but the only thing I had was my wits. The more I thought, the more I was concerned that my wits abandoned me.
“Well, that’s it unless anyone has something to add?” Sydney prompted.
Finally, I had something.
“Yes. I agree that everyone’s safety is important, but I don’t think we’ve thought about the political science majors. Their professors will be all over this and more and more of them want first-hand footage. I think discouraging everyone will put them at a real disadvantage,” I said.
My heart pounded in my ears as I watched the gears turn in Sydney’s head. It wasn’t my best work but it might have made a difference.
“It’s a shame but, they’ll have to figure something else out,” Sydney said.
“Well---”
“Have that done in thirty, okay?”
Sydney’s words were light but her eyes were so intense that my words stopped in my head. I nodded and she dismissed everyone. Sasha grinned widely at me as she stood and walked out.
“I guess your friend will have to figure something else out. With it being junior year and all, it’s even more important that she doesn’t fail anything,” Sasha said.
“Her name is Coco and even though this is an inconvenience she’ll figure something out.”
As confident as I was in Coco, I had no idea what I was going to do. Surprisingly, writing up the Discord message was easy, even though plenty of the girls were upset, it was a simple fix of, “If you’re disappointed, Sydney is more than happy to answer your questions.” However, I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell Jordan and Marie that I couldn’t help them get the information to Neuman.
Of course, the time we set to meet up outside of Shetty’s office arrived too soon and I found myself pacing down the hall, filled with dread the closer I got to Shetty’s office. When I arrived, the door was already open and my heart lurched into my throat.
Oh no, we’ve been caught, this won’t work, I panicked.
Then, I forced myself to take a deep breath and crept closer to the door. It took five more deep breaths for me to get the courage to peek around the corner. At first glance, Shetty’s office looked like it normally did: peaceful but professional. Her space was light and airy with the perfect amount of light from the sun seeping through the windows. However, when I looked closer, there were papers sprawled over her desk, something that she would never stand for.
Just as I started to creep in, Jordan popped up from behind the desk and cursed loudly when she saw me.
“You could have said something, freshie!” Jordan admonished, one hand pressed to her chest and another holding a file.
“Well, I didn’t know who was in here!” I defended, wandering further in. “You should have closed the doors behind you.”
Jordan smirked. “You say that like I’m not the one who taught you how to sneak into places. I would have just told whoever that Shetty needed me to find something.”
“Technically, you all contributed to teaching me that but okay.”
Then, I turned back towards the doors to start closing them when Marie slipped in. We nearly collided but I took a half step back.
“Shit, sorry!” Marie exclaimed.
“It’s fine, I guess it’s my karma.”
I let her slip past me and made sure the doors were secured behind us before joining her and Jordan at Shetty’s desk.
“Have you found anything yet?” Marie asked.
“No, just different files on different kids.”
I perked up. “Like the ones she checks in with?”
“I think so. I didn’t read any because that felt wrong.” Jordan paused. “And don’t go looking for your file; you need to be focused.”
“Fine,” I groaned playfully.
We decided it would be best for Jordan and me to go through Shetty’s physical files while Marie searched her computer. As I skimmed the documents, my brain circled around how I would tell them that I couldn’t go to the town hall. There was no great way to say, “Hey, I can’t help you expose a major conspiracy because my house president said ‘no’ and if I disobey, I’ll be ostracized.” I would find better words but that’s what it all boiled down to.
If only Si Chi and rankings didn’t matter so much.
Then, I paused at a newspaper clipping I found. It was from that plane crash a couple of years back, the one that Queen Maeve and Homelander failed to save. The thought of all those people dying made my stomach churn. As I kept reading, my stomach settled a little and I felt myself buzzing.
“Look.” I set the file down on Shetty’s desk and Jordan stepped closer and Marie swiveled in her chair.
“It’s from that plane crash,” Marie observed.
“Why would Shetty have a file on this?” Jordan asked.
“Because of this.” I flipped through the documents and pointed out the passenger list. “It’s right in the middle.”
After a few seconds of reading, both their eyes widened.
“Holy shit,” Jordan breathed.
“Her kid and her husband were on that plane; that’s why she hates all supes, it makes total sense,” Marie said.
“It’s only motive but, it might be useful for Neuman. But no one’s found anything on the Woods?” I asked.
Marie and Jordan shook their heads.
“Great, this couldn’t get worse,” Marie muttered.
Immediately, Shetty’s office door handle started jiggling and our eyes snapped to it.
“I thought you locked the door,” Jordan hissed.
“No, it would have been suspicious if the door was locked,” I whispered back.
“We don’t have time for this. Hide whatever you can.”
Frantically, we shoved the unimportant files in random drawers, and I kept the one about the plane crash under my denim jacket. Just when the door pushed open, someone dragged me down and I found myself sandwiched between Jordan and Marie underneath Shetty’s desk. It was a tight squeeze, and I didn’t think that I could move if I tried but, I was more focused on keeping my breathing even as someone entered the office.
“Nice digs. I guess this is what you get for screwing over everyone,” a masculine voice drawled.
“That’s Cardoza,” Jordan mouthed.
My eyes widened and I could feel my heart rate pick up. For a few seconds, I couldn’t focus on any of my surroundings, and I couldn’t hear anything either. This shouldn’t have been happening, I took my medicine, I knew I did.
Just breathe, Y/N, and use your exercise.
I see three of Jordan’s rings, I smell Marie’s hair oil, I feel really warm, and----
My thoughts were cut off by Marie grabbing my shoulders and muttering, “It’s okay.”
In the next few seconds, my heart rate slowed down, and I breathed a lot easier. I would have turned to thank her if it would have blown our cover.
For the next minute, Dr. Cardoza ranted about how his medical prowess was misused and how no one was supposed to get hurt.
“It was all for science! But screw science and me, right?” he bellowed.
Then, he got quiet for a second, but it was quickly filled by the sound of something trickling. Since she was in the most convenient position, Jordan poked her head out from her hiding spot only to immediately retract it and shake her head.
I hated where my imagination went.
Finally, the sound stopped, and the man groaned. “Here’s your precious data.”
Something plopped onto the desk, and we all perked up. As soon as the door slammed behind him, we rushed out from our hiding spot. Marie grabbed the USB that Dr. Cardoza dropped and plugged it into the computer. In seconds, we had everything that could expose Dean Shetty and the Woods. Some of the details made me wretch and some things did not need visuals but had them.
It was perfect ammunition.
“Wow,” Marie said.
“How long were they doing all this?” Jordan muttered.
I shook my head, grabbed the file from my jacket, and took pictures of the important parts. “I don’t know if I want to know at this point.”
After Marie grabbed the USB and we put everything else back to normal, we got out of that office as quickly as we could. While we walked down the hallway, my thumbs flew across my phone screen.
“I just sent the pictures to you both,” I said.
“Why? Are you afraid you’ll accidentally delete it?” Marie asked.
Okay, here it goes.
“I can’t go to the town hall,” I confessed.
“Are you scared? No one’s going to do anything, they’re all talk,” Jordan said. “And I wouldn’t let them touch you.”
“Neither would I,” Marie affirmed.
“I appreciate that but, it’s not out of fear. Si Chi girls can’t attend; president’s orders.”
They stopped walking at the same time, and I lagged a little, dreading facing them. At first, they both looked stunned then Jordan looked like she would strangle someone, and Marie was confused.
“That’s bullshit,” Jordan hissed.
“Yeah, they can’t tell you where you can and can’t go,” Marie agreed.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Well, they sort of can. If I go, it’s immediate expulsion from the sorority.”
“But this is important. They have to make an exception,” Marie offered.
“I couldn’t tell them about this. Sydney would get an ulcer at the thought of breaking into the dean’s office and going through private files,” I argued. “Plus, if I told them about any of this, they’d think I’m a crazy conspiracy theorist.”
“This isn’t a conspiracy or a theory; they did this shit and no one did anything about it,” Jordan insisted.
I huffed. “I know that, Jordan, but I also know these girls and they don’t like to leave their comfort zones. Even though Sydney is one of the more progressive presidents, she still has to maintain the standards.”
“Even if it includes covering up Shetty’s plan to make everyone sick?”
I hesitated. “I…I’m not sure.”
Marie groaned. “Come on, Y/N, you don’t have to do every little thing they say. You’re high up in the house, doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Yes, it means more status and respect but also more eyes, so I’m almost double forbidden from going.” I sighed. “I’m sorry but, this is as far as I can go. Text or video call me if you need anything.”
The moment I turned on my heel and started walking away, I understood what a kicked puppy must feel like. I only made it a few steps before both grabbed one of my wrists.  
“Stop running,” Jordan said.
“I’m not running,” I argued.
“Bullshit, this whole thing is,” she challenged.
I paused and narrowed my eyes at Jordan. “It might be to you but it’s very important to me. It always has been.”
When I pulled at her hand, Jordan let me go and I turned to Marie, but her expression hardened.
“You don’t have to do this,” she insisted.
I scoffed. “Yes, I do. Vought already gave you their stamp of approval, so you’re set. I have to play it smart, and I can’t do anything to lose Si Chi right now.”
“That’s not fair, Y/N,” Marie said.
“It’s the truth, though. I’m on thin ice with not being able to use my powers and I can’t mess up anything else!”
Jordan stepped closer to me. “The Woods is bigger than anything at this school. Screw rankings, Si Chi, and GOD U. Shetty wants us all dead and you have a chance to stop her. You have a chance to be a hero.”
They were right, this was a fantastic opportunity to help people and make GOD U a better place. We had no idea how many kids were still trapped down there or what they were experiencing. This plot needed to be exposed and everyone needed to be held accountable. At any other time, I would have jumped at the chance to help but I couldn’t.
If only Sydney hadn’t given that order.
I wanted the ground to swallow me up and take me somewhere far away from the two pairs of deep brown eyes that bored into me. I also wanted Marie and Jordan to stop looking at me with such intensity; it just made everything harder.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You’re not the only one risking your ranking here, you know. I don’t get why you insist on doing all this shit after everything,” Jordan spat.
I flinched at her tone and swallowed thickly. I knew she was referring to my family and how awful they were. The worst part was I didn’t know why I was like this either.
How could I have made so much progress just to end up back where I was?
Just a few hours ago, I was giggly about having a new girlfriend and partner. Before my meeting at Si Chi, I even made spreadsheets of some dates we could have and gift ideas for holidays and birthdays.
Seeing them both look at me with such hurt in their eyes almost broke me and I wanted to forget about the smug expression on Sasha’s face and Sydney’s tone. But, I just couldn’t.  
128 notes · View notes