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notmyneighbor · 22 days

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 7

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.

Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.

The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.

“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.

You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”

“We have the whole day. Want to try?”

“Really? You want to?”

“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.

“We need something to gather them in.”

“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.

“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”

The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.

“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.

You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.

“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.

The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.

The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.

I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything

“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”

“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.

“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.

“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.

Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”

Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.

It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.

You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.

“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.

“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”

He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.

The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.

“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”

You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”

“Coming with me?”

“I was hoping for an invitation.”

He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”

“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”

You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.

“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.

“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.

Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.

He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.

Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.

You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.

There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.

“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.

His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”

Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.

“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”

“Francis…”

“Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.

A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.

“Love,” he gasps.

“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.

***

You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”

“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”

“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”

“You want me to meet them?”

“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”

“How many are you planning on?”

“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”

“I know you do. I do, too.”

“You’re still scared.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”

“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”

His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”

***

You do not lose the power that evening.

There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.

“Do you think your parents will like me?”

You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”

Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”

“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”

“But that’s not the whole story.”

You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”

“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”

You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”

He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”

“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.

“And that I’m a good dancer.”

“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.

“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”

“We sort of did.”

His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”

“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”

“We’re engaged, though.”

“Yes. But still not married.”

“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.

“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.

“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”

You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.

You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”

The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”

“A real date.”

“Yes, a real date.”

You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”

Dance with me. I want my arms about you

The charms about you

Will carry me through to

“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”

“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”

“Because…”

“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger #the milkman

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libraryofgage · 7 months

Text

Librarian Steve :)

Was talking to a friend about people (specifically this one kid that gives such Dustin energy hfjdks) I meet at work (I'm a librarian) and that evolved into this plot bunny so:

Librarian Steve, rock star Eddie, and the 5 times Steve pretends he doesn't know who Eddie is while they flirt + 1 time Steve reveals he knew about Eddie's rock star status the whole time

There is also, definitely, at some point, going to be a second part where the kids keep just barely missing Eddie and refuse to believe Steve is actually dating anyone but especially not Eddie Munson of all people

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

One

Steve stares at the man on the other side of the circulation desk. He's wearing a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, a guitar pick necklace, clunky rings on each finger, and an expression that says he's bracing himself for something painful.

Here's the thing: Steve knows who Eddie Munson is. It's hard to listen to alternative rock or punk or any other genre like that and not know Eddie Munson. It's hard to be a librarian who works primarily with kids in middle school and high school, all going through that painful, angsty phase that they express through music, and not know Eddie Munson.

So, yeah, Steve takes one look at the admittedly (incredibly) attractive guy and immediately knows he's Eddie Munson. Like, of Corroded Coffin fame. Of Rock n Roll Hall of Fame fame. Of platinum-level album sales fame. Of--okay, his point has probably been made.

Anyway, yeah, Steve knows this is Eddie Munson, and while he'd love to say he's a fan and smile at Eddie and maybe ask for an autograph, Steve also grew up as a Small Town Rich Kid. So he knows that look on Eddie's face, the one that says he's bracing himself for someone to start fawning over him and potentially ask for uncomfortable favors or his number or any other request that's definitely crossing the line into invasive.

Steve easily makes the decision to pretend he doesn't recognize Eddie. So, he puts on his customer service smile and says, "Hello, how can I help you?"

The sheer relief in Eddie's eyes is more than enough to tell Steve he made the right choice. "Right, uh, this is my first time here," Eddie says, shifting slightly before placing his hands on the counter and drumming his fingers.

"Oh, congratulations," Steve says, his tone and smile becoming more genuine. "Did you come here to print something?"

Eddie shakes his head, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a library card. "My friend has, like, a...hold? Yeah, a hold on something and asked me to pick it up," he explains.

Steve nods once and takes the card when Eddie offers it. He scans it and watches the computer load for a few seconds before opening an account window for someone named Asher Katz. "Since you aren't the cardholder," Steve says, navigating to the "Additional Information" tab in the account, "I'll need you to tell me the four-digit pin or code word connected to the account."

He clearly wasn't expecting that requirement, and Eddie flounders for a moment. "Is that a requirement?" he asks.

With an apologetic smile, Steve nods. "Yeah," he says, stretching out the word as he tries to think. "Oh, you could also call him and have him tell me the pin. Then I could confirm that it's okay for you to check out materials on his behalf."

"This is a lot of hoops for a book," Eddie says, frowning slightly as he takes out his phone.

"We have to make sure people's materials are secure. Also, we have to keep track of what people check out for the library's stats report at the end of each quarter."

Eddie looks like he understands about half of that, and Steve once again flashes an apologetic smile. After a few taps on the screen, Eddie glances around the library, ensuring it's empty, before putting the phone on speaker. The moment it picks up, and before Asher can speak, Eddie says, "Hey, man, I'm at the library. Can you tell, uh--" Eddie looks up to check Steve's nametag "--Steve what your pin is so I can check that book out."

A few seconds pass before Steve hears a sigh on the other end of the phone. "1234," Asher says.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks.

Steve glances at the account page, confirms the pin, and nods. "Could you also provide me with your code word?"

"Password."

"Dude!" Eddie says, staring at the phone like he's once again being reminded that his friend is a dumbass.

Steve checks the account again and nods once more. "Great, thank you. Could you confirm that...," Steve trails off, looking at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie blinks like he forgot Steve didn't know who he was and hesitates before clearing his throat and quietly saying, "Eddie."

"Thanks," Steve says, flashing another smile before looking at the phone and continuing, "Can you confirm that Eddie here is allowed to check out holds on your behalf?"

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, man."

"Great, thank you," Steve says, checking the card number once more before heading to the hold shelf behind the desk. He crouches and starts scanning stickers on the spines for Asher's last name and the last four digits of his number. Behind him, he hears Eddie say goodbye, his voice sounding a little strained for reasons Steve can't really figure out at the moment.

He finds the right book after a few moments and pulls it off the shelf. "Here it is," he says, walking over to the desk and pulling up the check-out window on his computer. He scans the library card once more, carefully pulls the sticker off the spine, and scans the book.

"It's due in two weeks, but if your friend needs more time, he can just give the library a call," Steve explains, passing the book and card back to Eddie with a smile. "Was there anything else I could do for you?"

Eddie just stares at him for a few seconds, his cheeks looking a little pinker than before, and Steve wonders if the building's A/C somehow gave up on life. Again. But he can hear it running so that definitely isn't it. "Uh, nope, that's it," Eddie says, gripping the book tightly in his hands, his rings pressing into the cover. "Thanks, Steve, appreciate it."

"Of course, man. Have a good day," Steve says with a genuine smile and wave as Eddie heads toward the door.

With a slightly awkward wave back, Eddie walks out the door, glancing back over his shoulder once before the door completely shuts. Once the library is empty again, Steve hears the door to the backroom open, and Robin practically slides up to the counter, leaning onto it next to him.

"Was that?" she asks. Steve instantly translates the question in his head: Was that Eddie fucking Munson?

"Yep."

"And did you?"

And did you just pretend you didn't know him?

"Yep."

"Did he?"

Did he catch on?

"Nope."

"Do you think?"

Do you think he'll be back?

Steve shrugs, glancing over at her. "Don't know," he says, pausing for a moment before adding, "He's hotter in person."

Robin barks out a laugh. "Maybe you'll actually get to flirt next time," she says, and Steve grins at her, kind of hoping she's right.

Two

Eddie returns exactly two weeks later, and Steve is lucky enough to once again be working a desk shift when he walks through the door. He's wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt this time, and his hair is pulled back into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame his face. He goes up to the counter, focused on Steve and completely ignoring Robin sitting at another computer, and sets the book down. "I wanna return this. And get a library card for myself," he says.

Steve can't help a clearly amused smile as he takes the book and scans it in. "Do you have an ID with you?" he asks, sliding the book along the desk to rest next to Robin.

He ignores the glare she shoots at him before grabbing the book to place it on a reshelving cart for later.

"Yeah, do I need anything else?" Eddie asks.

As Steve shakes his head, he leans over to grab a library card application from a small organizer. He places it in front of Eddie and passes him a pen as well. "Just fill that out," he says, leaning forward on the counter as Eddie picks up the pen.

"So, uh, what can I do with a library card?" Eddie asks, glancing up at Steve briefly before focusing on carefully writing. His letters are blocky but awkward like he's consciously thinking about how he's writing each one.

Maybe he just doesn't want to risk his writing being recognized, too? From what Steve remembers of the signatures he's seen, Eddie's handwriting is fairly distinctive.

"You can borrow up to 75 materials at one time, place items on hold, use the computers, and you get one dollar of printing credit that renews each day," Steve lists, tilting his head slightly as he watches Eddie write.

"That's it?"

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at Eddie when he looks up. "Oh, that's not enough for you?" he asks, unable to help a slight grin, "You can use it at any library within our system, too. So you'll still have options if you get banned from this one."

"Oh? And what would I be banned for?" Eddie asks, his writing pausing long enough to meet Steve's gaze once more and smirk at him.

"I wonder," Steve says, not missing the way Eddie's gaze drops to his lips for less than a second before moving back up.

Holy shit, he's flirting with Eddie Munson.

"I can also help you find books to read based on what you've liked previously," Steve adds, somewhat clumsily pulling back from the flirting. It's only Eddie's second time here, and he doesn't want to let himself get too caught up in...well, Eddie when there's no guarantee he'll be back.

Eddie hums softly as he looks back at the application. "Oh? What would you recommend for me?" he asks.

"What's your favorite book?"

"The Hobbit."

"What did you like about it?"

"The adventure and the characters."

"Do you prefer fantasy? What about sci-fi?"

"Yeah, those are fine."

Steve hums softly, thinking as Eddie sets the pen down and slides the application to him. "Thanks. I also need to see your ID," Steve says, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a library card. He scans it, a new account window popping up and waiting to be filled out.

"What's the ID for?" Eddie asks.

"To confirm that you live in our service area," Steve explains, taking the ID when Eddie offers it. He glances at the photo briefly, confirming that it is, in fact, Eddie Munson, and then double-checks the address. It matches what Eddie wrote on the application, so he nods and slides the ID back to him.

"That's it?"

Steve nods, beginning to type Eddie's information into the account page. "Yeah, that's it," he says, glancing up and smiling at Eddie, "Anyway, I think you'll enjoy the Murderbot Diaries. It's about a cyborg that hacks its control module, thinks about maybe going on a killing spree, and then discovers TV instead. It then just goes on adventures through space while fighting, like, capitalism and corporations."

"Sounds pretty badass," Eddie says, leaning forward on the counter like he wants to get a peek at the computer. "How long is it?"

"It's mostly novellas, so they're quick reads."

"Got any copies here?"

Steve hums, entering the last of Eddie's information. "I can check," he says, "but first, I need a code word for your account. Like, if you forget your pin or have someone else come pick up a hold, this word will confirm it's you."

Eddie thinks for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to Steve's nametag once more. "Stevie," he says.

Steve's fingers falter, accidentally typing an incomprehensible key smash into the information field. He glances up at Eddie. "...as in Stevie Nix? Don't forget, this has to be something you'll remember," he says, raising an eyebrow.

With a playful grin and a wink, Eddie says, "Well, I think you're pretty unforgettable, Stevie."

A beat passes as Steve stares at Eddie, feeling a rush of heat to his cheeks. He clears his throat and looks back at the computer, hesitating for a second more before typing "Stevie" into the field and saving the account. When he's done, he slides the card to Eddie along with a Sharpie. "That's your card, please sign on the back."

He notices Eddie stiffen at the request, but Steve doesn't comment. As he instead searches the library's catalog, he tries to ignore the sheer panic coming from Eddie as he tries to figure out how to sign the card. Eventually, Eddie picks up the Sharpie and writes his name in the same awkward, blocky writing he used for the application.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention once more, "we don't have any copies of the first book here, but I can put it on hold for you. It should be here in around four days, and you'll get an email when it's available. Does that work?"

Eddie nods as he places the Sharpie down. "Sure, I'm happy to swing by and pick it up," he says, his tone and smile and the playful look in his eyes telling Steve there are more reasons than that for him to come by the library.

And as Steve places the book on hold for Eddie, he can't help a tiny, eager smile.

Three

The D8 sits innocently on the counter in front of Steve, marbled colors of blue and red with streaks of gold to complement the gold-painted numbers. Steve had immediately recognized it as Will's when he was cleaning the meeting room, and he knew the kid was probably losing his mind right now searching for it. He feels kind of bad knowing Will is going to lose all hope of finding it before his next visit to the library.

At the same time, though, he's looking forward to the expression of sheer joy on Will's face when he next comes in and Steve gives it back. Maybe it'll even score him a bonus point with Mike, and he'll be a little less of an asshole. Though, knowing Mike like he does, Steve is sure he'll just get jealous that Steve made Will smile like that instead of himself.

That kid is incredibly skilled at finding new grudges to hold.

"Whatcha got there, Stevie?"

Steve blinks, looking away from the D8 to find Eddie leaning on the counter, a familiar grin tugging at his lips. His hair is loose today, falling over his shoulders, and he's boldly wearing a Hellfire Club shirt, like he's confident that Steve won't recognize any of Corroded Coffin's merch.

Which, sure, Steve is great at pretending by now. Especially after he and Robin made a bet on whether Steve could keep the secret until Eddie asked him out. Steve has incredible faith in himself; Robin says he's too dumb and gay to last that long. So far, after around two months and multiple visits from Eddie, Steve is still going strong.

"A D8," Steve says, holding it between his thumb and forefinger so Eddie can see it clearly. "One of the kids left it behind yesterday."

"They were playing D&D here?" Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he holds his hand out.

Steve drops the dice into his hand, watching as Eddie inspects the gold numbers and hums softly with appreciation. "I host a weekly D&D program," Steve explains. "A group of regular kids plays, and they were getting a little disruptive when they played in the common area--" Steve gestures to the cluster of tables where the kids used to set up "--and the program gives them the meeting room for a whole afternoon."

Eddie looks up at him like he's just said he's a volunteer firefighter on the weekends. It's not an awe and appreciation that Steve really deserves, but he also can't help the slight puff of his chest when it's coming from Eddie. "Do you play, too?" Eddie asks.

"Sort of?" Steve frowns slightly, trying to remember how Dustin and Will explained his role during the campaign to him. "I'm, like, extras. Their DM, Will, wanted his, uh, NPCs? Yeah, NPCs. He wanted the NPCs to feel more real, so he'll give me, like, a little script before each session and then have me voice the NPCs and give me signals to guide my interactions."

"Signals?"

"Yeah, like, if I'm a shop owner and the characters bargain for stuff. He'll give me a signal of when their, like, rolls are effective or when they suck. And if I'm a villain NPC, he'll give me a signal of when to die and give dramatic monologues," Steve explains.

And Eddie grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement and curiosity. "I kinda wanna hear a dramatic monologue," he says, propping his chin in his palm and looking at Steve expectantly.

He's clearly settled in to watch a show, and Steve isn't one to disappoint. Steve does a quick sweep of the library and confirms that it's just as empty as he remembers. Then, he sits up a little straighter in his chair, clears his throat, and tries to remember his whole dying monologue from the most recent session.

When he speaks, it's with a raspy voice, laced with pain and anger at being defeated, "Curse you, adventurers! You may have won the battle, but the war! The war yet rages, and you will be caught in its carnage! Savor this victory now, for it will be your last, and you will fa-"

Steve cuts off, grinning when Eddie blinks and pouts. "Why'd you stop?" he asks.

"Mike's character killed me before I could finish. Said my monologue was boring."

Eddie snorts, raising an eyebrow at that. "It sounds like your monologue was going to reveal info about the BBG."

"Yep. It was, but Will refused to tell them what the rest would've been, and Dustin threw his dice at Mike for killing me."

"He's lucky it was only that," Eddie says, completely serious, "I might've just killed him."

Steve can't help laughing, imagining Max leaping over the table to tackle Mike to the floor. She's done it before, actually, and the only thing that keeps her from attacking again is the knowledge that Steve will ban her from the library for at least a month if she gets violent again.

"He's lucky none of them want to be temporarily banned," Steve says.

"Oh? That's all it takes to get banned?" Eddie asks.

Steve smirks at the teasing lift to Eddie's question. "Yep, so you'd better watch yourself, Munson. I expect you to be on your best behavior," he says.

"I've never been very good at behaving."

"Great, you'll fit right in with the kids."

He looks up to see Eddie's smile growing wider, and Steve suddenly finds himself wondering how it would feel to kiss that smile away.

Four

Something library school never prepared Steve for is how overwhelmed certain days would make him. That's the thing about working with the public: some days are just never-ending, a line of patrons needing something practically wrapping through the stacks, meaning Steve can't turn off his customer service voice and smile.

Usually, he'll just escape to the back, lock himself in the employee bathroom, and take five minutes to cool down. Robin has gotten great at knocking on the door when the five minutes is up, pretending she needs to use the bathroom so the other staff members don't suspect Steve of breathing away a breakdown.

Today, though, Steve can't hide in the bathroom because of the music Robin is playing in the back. It's grating on his ears, scratching against his brain and down his spine like nails on a chalkboard, made all the worse by his interactions with an older patron with a voice that was rough and somehow rounded with sharp edges at the same time.

If Steve asked, Robin would definitely turn off the music, but he also saw her tense shoulders, how on edge she was, and how the music was the only thing helping her calm down. So Steve couldn't. Instead, he just said he was going to shelf-read the non-fiction section.

Because nobody goes into the non-fiction section. At least, nobody goes to the part of the section filled with encyclopedias. It's a safe corner, tucked into the back of the library where few people wander unless they're desperate for an outdated book of information that has no real bearing on their life.

So here Steve is, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes closed. This part of the library is quieter, but he can still hear the general ambiance of the building: people talking in hushed voices, the keyboards clicking as people type, chairs scraping against the floor as people pull them out.

And quiet footsteps coming closer. They're accompanied by the gentle sound of metal bouncing against itself. Steve doesn't open his eyes, but he does know that it's Eddie, and he's not at all surprised that Eddie managed to find him deep in the stacks.

It makes him feel a little warm, actually.

When Eddie reaches him, he doesn't speak. He just sits next to Steve, close enough for Steve to feel his presence without their shoulders touching. And he seems content to stay in silence for as long as needed, but Steve doesn't want silence. He wants to hear Eddie's voice; maybe it will override the discomfort of the music and the patron from earlier.

"Could you talk?" Steve asks, his voice soft and barely audible.

But Eddie hears him and scoots a tiny bit closer, letting their shoulders brush.

"I have opinions about library shelving because of you now. Like, why are science fiction and fantasy shelved together as one category? They're two different genres; they represent different things. One is a reflection of our society and all that it could be, an escape into something new, and the other is a reflection of what our society was through the eyes of a new world. And, like, it's not even the ones you think. They both embody different lessons and values and pairing them together is, like, demeaning to the hallmarks of the genres and what they can do for readers."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like an opinion about library shelving and cataloging. Steve can't help a soft laugh escaping him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. "What started this?" he asks.

"There are Star Trek novels right next to, like, Seven Blades in Black on the shelves, Stevie. It's horrendous. What the fuck?"

Steve smiles a little, gently knocking their elbows together. "Unfortunately, I can't control how our cataloging department works," he says.

"Sounds like a skill issue to me," Eddie says, "Maybe you should just get good."

Steve barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand at how loud it sounds. He glares at Eddie, his eyes holding no real heat.

Eddie grins right back and leans in a little closer. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle and brushing against Steve's brain like a cool stream of water on a hot day.

It makes his shoulders relax, something in his stomach uncurling and draining all the tension from his muscles. "Yeah," he replies, "thanks."

"Anytime, Stevie," Eddie says, smiling at Steve like he's capable of hanging stars in the sky, like he'd do a backflip with a broken spine if Steve asked.

And Steve...Steve finds himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and he has no plans to find his way out anytime soon.

Five

Most of the library staff hates reshelving books, but Steve loves it. He doesn't have to use his brain beyond remembering the alphabet, and he can listen to music while he works, easily zoning out so the time passes quickly.

Which is what's happening now. He's probably been shelving for a while, but he's been listening to a Corroded Coffin playlist the entire time, humming along to Hellfire and Chains. His head is bobbing along to the music as he works, and he turns to grab another book off the reshelving cart only to find Eddie standing right behind him.

Steve jumps, his heart leaping into his throat as he chokes on air and Corroded Coffin notes. Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, somewhere between afraid and infatuated, and Steve can't help asking, "What the fuck, man?" in a whispered voice.

"Whatcha listening to, Stevie?" Eddie asks, ignoring Steve's question.

Oh. If he admits to knowing Corroded Coffin's music, then he'll probably be giving up the whole "I know you're famous" thing, and based on Eddie's somewhat terrified look, that's not a great idea right now. But he also can't lie about the music because Eddie's going to recognize his own songs.

"Uh, Corroded Coffin, I think? I heard Lucas playing one of their songs. It sounded catchy and he sent me a playlist he'd made on Spotify," Steve explains.

It's not a lie, technically. That is how he discovered Corroded Coffin, but that was almost two years ago now.

"And, uh, what do you think?" Eddie asks, glancing at the earbuds still playing in Steve's ear.

Steve studies him for a moment before smiling. "They're really good," he says, turning around to continue shelving books. "I like stuff from their second album best so far."

"Do you usually listen to metal and rock?" Eddie asks, glancing at the shelving cart before passing Steve another book.

Steve almost tells Eddie to let him do the shelving, but then he sees that Eddie passed him the correct book for this section, so he bites back the words. Instead, he nods and crouches to slide the book into a bottom shelf. "Yeah. More older stuff, I guess. Guns N' Roses, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Queen. That kind of stuff," he says.

"Holy fuck, you're perfect," Eddie says, his voice soft and full of awe and Steve is about to laugh when Eddie adds, "Marry me."

Steve blinks, nearly losing his balance and falling on his ass. He saves himself at the last minute, quickly standing up again so he can look at Eddie. "Seriously?" he asks, wondering if maybe he had just misheard.

He did not. And this is proven by Eddie moving around the shelving cart, grabbing Steve's hand, and getting down on one knee. "Incredibly. Your music taste is fucking immaculate, sweetheart. Also, you're funny, hot, and sweet, and I've recently developed a librarian kink, I think. So. Marry me," Eddie says before using his teeth to pull off one of the chunky rings on his left hand so his right hand doesn't have to let go of Steve.

He then holds the ring up, and Steve really shouldn't find that as hot as he does. Like. Really hot. And he almost considers saying yes. But then he fully processes Eddie's words and almost laughs. "You've developed a librarian kink? So, what, you'll drop me the moment another librarian starts ranting about the Dewey Decimal system?" he asks.

"Okay, fair," Eddie says, nodding once. "Let me rephrase that. I've developed a Librarian Steve Harrington kink. Only you, big boy. Nobody curses out the Dewey Decimal system like you, sweetheart."

That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Steve, actually. "It's a shitty cataloging system," he says without thinking.

Eddie nods in agreement, still on one knee, still holding up the ring (it's shaped like a coffin, now that Steve spares it more than a quick glance) and still looking up at Steve with an infatuated smile. "It is," he agrees, voice a little softer than before like he's ready to just kneel through Steve's passionate rant about it.

And Steve thinks that might be the final straw for him. "I'd prefer at least one date before marriage," he says, grinning down at Eddie and pulling him back to his feet.

Eddie follows his lead, standing a little too close considering Steve is, technically, still at work. He turns Steve's hand over so it's palm up and drops the ring into it. "Of course, Stevie. How about lunch tomorrow? My treat," he offers.

Of course, Steve says yes.

+ One

"I still think there are funnier ways to tell him," Robin says, crossing her arms and pouting as Steve leans against the counter, his back to the door.

Steve sticks his tongue out at her. "You're just mad you lost the bet," he says. Telling her she lost had made Steve's entire week, especially since it means Robin is finally (finally!) going to dress up with Steve the next time they go to a basketball game together. He's got a jersey and shorts ready for her; he's had them ready since the first game he invited her to. They have her name across the back, are the ugliest shade of mustard yellow he could find, and match his perfectly.

"That jersey is the work of the devil," she says, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of it.

Steve just grins. "You never know, maybe a nice girl will be enraptured by your awkward lesbian swag," he says.

Robin is about to answer when she looks over Steve's shoulder and grins, her eyes lighting up. Steve looks over his shoulder to see Eddie smiling at him. "Hey, Stevie," he says.

And here it is. The moment of truth. Steve grins right back at Eddie and turns around, letting him see the graphic on his shirt. It's one he bought at a Corroded Coffin concert a year ago. It has the band's first album cover emblazoned across it with Eddie front-and-center, playing his guitar with the other band members around him as bats swirl in a red haze above their heads.

Eddie stares at the shirt, his smile freezing on his face and his body tensing. Panic starts to fill his eyes, and he glances up, looking ready to explain himself only to stop when he sees Steve's soft, endeared smile. He pauses, studying Steve's expression for a moment before laughing a little awkwardly and tugging on a lock of his hair, using it to cover his mouth. "So, uh, you knew the whole time," he says.

"Yep," Steve replies, leaning forward on the counter so it's harder for Eddie to avoid looking at him. "I did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Eddie asks.

"You didn't want me to," Steve says. Then he considers his words and corrects, "Or, you didn't want to be recognized. When you first came in, you were bracing yourself for it, and I figured you'd feel more comfortable if I pretended not to know you."

"What about all the other times?"

Steve shrugs, his smile becoming reassuring. "I figured you'd either tell me when you were ready, or I'd tell you when we went on a date because you'd probably get all in your head about having a secret like that while we were dating."

And Steve is right. Eddie would have freaked out over the secret, and he would have struggled with telling Steve at just the right moment, and time would have stretched on and on until it had been too long to tell him anything. It would have been agony for Eddie and left Steve concerned and just not a good time for anyone.

"So, uh, how long have you been a fan?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I wasn't lying about hearing your music from Lucas, but I did lie about the time. It was two years ago," Steve explains.

Eddie slowly nods and then starts to grin. "So, how's it feel dating a celebrity?" he asks playfully, leaning closer and wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Like a Wattpad fantasy come true," Steve deadpans, nearly cracking when he hears Robin lose her shit behind him, her laughter turning into wheezes within seconds.

Eddie laughs, too. It's loud and bright and makes Steve feel warm and happy, like every problem could be solved simply by making Eddie laugh just like this.

Steve is eager to find out if that's true.

#steddie #steddie fic #librarian steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #5 + 1 fic #my writing #i'm a librarian btw so this was a bit inspired by my experiences #also fuck the dewey decimal system all my homies hate the dewey decimal system #it is a plague upon this earth

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freedomfireflies · 2 months

Note

any chance we can get asher back for mine!harry blurb? i miss my pookie :(

Summary: The one where you're not feeling so hot and Harry and Asher just want to help.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content Warning: 18+, very brief smut, very brief daddy kink, lots of fluff, not suitable for Ramadan!

“That’s it…good. Take it…fucking take me, mama.”

With every thrust and drive of Harry's hips, you can’t help but whimper. Nails scratching down his broad back while his nose dances along your cheek. You feel whole. Connected. In tune to his pleasure as you tighten your legs around his hips and kiss him.

“So fucking wet, sugar,” he exhales. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs in fast, determined circles. “S’it feel good? My baby’s cunny just needed some attention, hm? Needed me to fill her up?”

You nod—about the only coherent response you can offer—and melt into the feel of his mouth moving to your chest. It feels good. This is what you needed. You’ve missed him. And you needed someone to scratch this itch and make things right again.

And then, a throat clears.

Not yours. Not Harry’s.

Asher’s.

He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching. His kind eyes are now suspicious and deviant. And he’s not looking at Harry. He’s looking at you.

And you know why.

Harry doesn’t mind the audience. He continues, strong hands cemented to your hips as he tugs you up in order to get a better angle. “You all right, Ash?” he calls.

Asher raises his chin. “Tell him,” he says to you. Resolute. Unwavering in a way that suggests he won't be letting this go.

You hesitate, stomach dropping as the threat of punishment hangs heavy in the air.

Harry smirks. “Tell me what?”

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you whisper before shooting a pointed look toward the door. “Nothing.”

“Sweetheart,” Asher warns, crossing his arms before leaning against the frame. “It’ll be worse if I have to tell him.”

Now Harry seems to understand and begins to slow his thrusts, offering you a curious expression meant to calm you. “What’s wrong, mama?”

You chew on your lip. You don’t want to tell him. You want this and you attempt to clench around his cock in order to get him to continue.

He smiles.

“She had a fever this morning,” Asher finally says and you bite back a groan. “She’s been dizzy all day and nearly fainted earlier. I told her to stay in bed and rest. Not do anything too strenuous. But I have a feeling she didn’t mention that to you.”

Harry’s grin instantly fades into disappointment and you know, undoubtedly, that you’re in rather big trouble now.

The one thing they prioritize more than anything is your health and safety.

“Sugar,” Harry starts, and you feel your heart skip, “are you not feeling well?”

You squirm beneath him. “I’m…I’m fine. I’m okay to do this—”

“Were you sick this morning?”

“…I was just…I mean, maybe a little, but—”

“Did you know you were going against Asher’s request when you begged me to fuck you?” he says firmly, and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You hate upsetting him. “Were you purposefully disobeying him?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I…I wasn’t trying to, I just…I missed you.”

And it’s the truth. You have missed him. You weren’t trying to be defiant, but you love Harry and you wanted to feel him. And you figured an orgasm could be just what the doctor ordered.

His features soften now as he dips down to kiss your nose. “I know, mama. I’ve missed you, too. But you know better than to disobey, don’t you?”

Regretfully, you nod.

“Then, I’m gonna ask you a question and I expect the truth. Is that understood?”

Another nod.

“Are you unwell right now? Do you feel tired or feverish or even the slightest bit uncomfortable?”

You could lie. You could tell him that you’ve been fucked back to health. That you rested and now you’re replenished.

But he’d know. And you’d know. And Asher would know.

So, you thread your fingers through his curls and whisper, “I’m…a little tired. And sore."

His expression falls. He’s gutted to know you're in pain but proud of you for finally admitting it. “Good girl,” he says before he kisses your cheek and begins to pull out. “All right then. Are you gonna let us take care of you now? The right way?”

Almost begrudgingly, you nod once again and melt into the mattress as he and Asher discuss the best way to help.

They run you a bath and help carry you to the tub. Harry joins you in the warm water and pulls you between his legs so he can sweep a washcloth up and down your clammy skin. Helping you feel clean and calm.

And when you're through, Asher is there with a big, fluffy towel to wrap you up in. Drying you off gently before bringing you back to bed and kissing your temple sweetly while tucking you beneath the covers.

“Thank you,” you say faintly as he runs his thumb over your cheek. “Even though you’re a snitch.”

He laughs. “Mhm. And I’d do it again.”

With that, he leaves you and Harry alone for the evening, something Harry is more than all right with.

He crawls into bed beside you, quickly pulling you to his chest before taking your temperature and offering you medicine and water.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish,” you whisper as he’s turning out the light.

However, even in the dark, you can anticipate his frown. “Sugar…finishing is not the goal for me. You know that. I like to finish with you, but I don’t fuck you for that. I fuck you because I love you. I want to be close to you. I want to feel you and make you finish.”

You run your fingers down his chest and sigh. “I know, I just…I like when you do. I like that I can do that for you.”

You feel his lips brush across your forehead before he’s wrapping you between his arms. “I know, mama. I’ll make you a deal. Once you’re well again, I’ll fuck you as many times as you want. Make you cum over and over and over again. Until you’re all sensitive and overstimulated.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” He chuckles before there’s a long, silent lull. “I love you. You know that?”

Your heart just about explodes out of your chest. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Another kiss. Soft. Gentle. “Horny little thing. Even got Asher to tell on you.”

“I know,” you laugh. “I was kind of surprised. But to be fair, I didn’t really disobey him. I was on bed rest. We were doing missionary, and you were doing all the work. All I had to do was lay there.”

Harry laughs and the sound is beautiful. “And you’re sneaky, too, hm?”

“Hey, an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.”

“All right, that’s enough out of you. Go to sleep, yeah?�� He pinches your hip. “We’ll discuss this when you’re better. But something tells me Asher won’t be so willing to let you off the hook.”

You smile.

“Good.”

Okay fine I missed Asher, too 😭 HE IS CUTE WHEN HE WANTS TO BE!!

~ Mine Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @acesofspadess @stylesfever @caynonmoondreams @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

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spookysteddie · 4 months

Text

That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it.

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees.

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted.

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!”

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?”

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.”

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers.

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.”

…

You should’ve changed your mind.

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you.

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time.

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face.

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands.

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long.

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it.

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-”

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.”

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!”

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels.

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?”

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus.

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus.

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts.

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that. The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs.

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.”

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you.

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.”

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?”

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was.

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.”

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?”

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen.

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again.

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet.

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening.

Photos are fine.

Everyone must be tagged.

Nothing negative.

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar.

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines.

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?”

You nod, “y-yeah of course.”

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over.

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer.

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.”

…

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more.

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason.

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.”

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something?

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes.

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there!

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.”

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured.

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.”

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not?

“‘Precious babies?’”

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.”

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne.

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him.

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan.

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.”

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.”

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close.

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.”

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?”

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.”

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?”

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.”

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent.

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…”

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?”

So, you do.

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name.

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times.

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos.

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music.

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.”

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care.

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back.

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him.

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him.

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.”

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you.

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes.

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.”

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?”

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.”

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top.

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you.

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right?

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center.

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone.

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid.

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans.

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No.

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.” He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers.

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?”

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous.

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.”

“V-very.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!”

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.”

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.”

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.”

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft”

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it.

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.”

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?”

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.”

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.”

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?”

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it.

“Oh god! Please.”

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.”

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down.

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.”

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’

“And now… we wait.”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

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cameronspecial · 3 months

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You Are Our Perfect Boy, Baby

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Difficulties With Getting Pregnant

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Trying to give Asher a younger sibling is proving harder than they thought it would and Y/N can't hold on to hope anymore.

Masterlist

Rafe never thought he would want children, yet when Y/N came along, he knew that he couldn’t imagine a life without them. They would be the perfect representation of his and Y/N's love and they would help grow that love into something even better. When Asher hit four years old, the spouses thought that it was time to make their family grow. However, trying to conceive a child the second time around is proving to be harder than when they created Asher. It’s been two years and no luck seems to be in sight for the couple. Rafe can see how the lack of success is affecting his angel. She no longer holds any excitement or hope while taking a pregnancy test. She will pee on the stick and leave it on the bathroom sink as soon as she is done, not bothering to wait by it anymore. Rafe wants to do anything to make her feel better, but what can he do if she refuses to go to a fertility clinic with him? He doesn’t blame her for not wanting to go. He knows that any answer they get can just lead to one of them feeling incredibly guilty. They’ve always talked about foster children, except that was only after they had one more child biologically. Because as selfish as it was, they wanted at least one stable sibling for Asher to have while growing up before they opened his world up to siblings, who could come and go. Sure, they could always adopt the children, but the parents recognize the fact that some children in the foster system are there until their permanent home is made stable again and that is the main reason why the pair wanted to foster. To give the children in waiting a safe place to be while their parents either find a stable home or try to find a sober path.

The lack of being able to conceive again makes Y/N question whether the universe has more children in mind for them. It makes her think that she doesn’t deserve more kids, so even fostering or adoption is off the table. In all honesty, she just doesn’t know if she can deal with even the slightest possibility of rejection by those systems. This test in her hand is the last chance she is giving them to have the future they planned for them. She is exhausted by the disappointment and can’t deal with it anymore. Rafe pleads with the universe to be on their side for once in this process. The timer goes off and both of them hold their breath as they look at the result. Negative. Tears stream down her face at what she sees. Rafe tries to pull her into a hug to comfort her, but she shrugs off his hold and throws the test in the garbage can.

She walks out of their bathroom and heads to the kitchen. Asher is on the couch watching TV. His eyes flicker to his mother and he spots the salty droplets rolling down her face. He abandons the TV show and runs to hug her. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” he worries, snuggling his face into her leg. She smiles down at him and picks him up in her arms. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, “Mommy is okay. She just found out some bad news today.” “Oh, what happened?” he asks for clarification. She hears Rafe’s footsteps approach and he stands at the entrance of the hallway, watching the scene from a distance to give her space. Her eyes lock with his and they make a silent agreement over what to say. They agree to tell him the truth. They believe that if they want Asher to be emotionally intelligent, then they have to be open about how and why they feel a certain way. “Well, you know how you’ve been asking for a little brother or sister,” she starts. He nods. “Mommy and Daddy found out that we can’t have one and it makes Mommy sad because we really wanted to have one and we know how much you did too.” Asher snuggles his face into her neck, “It’s okay, Mommy. I know you tried your hardest to give me one. It’s like you said, you tried your hardest and that is what counts.” Asher notices his father in the hallway and beckons him over. Rafe approaches his son. “Daddy, can you help me make Mommy tea please?”

Y/N lets out a sob, covering her mouth to try to hide it. Her son’s words fill her with warmth and a sense of pride. She and Rafe are raising Asher to be a fine young man. She can’t believe that through this whole process, she forgot how great the child she already has is. “You are too sweet. Mommy and Daddy are so glad to have you because you are our perfect boy, Baby,” she praises, pressing another kiss on his cheek. Although raising another baby may not be in their cards, Y/N is so grateful that she still gets to be the mother of an amazing little boy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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seospicybin · 6 months

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TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART II

Han x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle masterlist

Synopsis: You and Han become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (12,7k words)

Author's note: I had so much fun writing Han's season idk why so I hope you enjoy this one too! x

The party is in full swing.

Everyone is dancing and getting friction off each other, having the time of our lives by forgetting that everyone here is locked in this sexless retreat.

Han has his hand around your waist and you look over your shoulder at him, your eyes meet in an intense gaze. Your eyes drop to his teeth faintly biting his lower lips, getting curious of what it would be like to kiss those lips.

You drop your head against his shoulder and he leans in...

The music abruptly stops and the chime comes in. Everyone knows where to go whenever they hear it and off to the cabana we go.

All the fun and euphoria of the party seem to have evaporated once you are seated on the sofa and waiting for the boss lady to come.

The chime comes in again with her cone body flickering in purple-hued lights.

"I've gathered you all to remind you that this retreat is for finding deeper connections, not just physical ones. This information is not getting through to some guests."

As always, you can sit this one out because you haven't broken any rules yet but Lana sounds so mad and that puts you on edge.

"There has been a breach of the rules."

There's a dark cloud casting over everyone's head and you prepare yourself for what's coming, it's most certainly going to get ugly.

Asher reclines in his seat and glances at Gwen next to her, it's obvious that he did it.

"I don't want to say I lost you guys more money but..." Asher is stalling only to prolong the pain.

"Did you guys kiss or not?" Finn simplifies it for them.

Asher and Gwen exchange a look, then after a minute, Asher finally answers, "Yes."

"I thought we're here for the experience—" Gwen's words get cut off by Finn's loud scoff.

Gwen is only here for a day so it's not a surprise that she still has that mindset, that it's okay to break rules and have fun. She hasn't felt the consequences of her actions like the rest of the group.

"This kiss has cost the group $6,000."

"Mmh... brilliant," Sawyer lowly mutters.

"The prize fund now stands at $149,000," Lana announces the current amount of money in the pot.

"That is not all," Lana is not letting anyone breathe yet.

"What?" Nya gasps.

"Last night, there was another breach of the rules."

Last night, everyone behaved nicely but maybe that's just what it seemed to you. Again, you can't control everyone in here because the only one with that power here is Lana.

Mikaela is looking uncomfortable that she keeps playing with her earrings even though nothing is wrong with them. You dare to ask them, "Rio, Mikaela, did you guys kiss?"

Rio is quick to shake his head to deny it while Mikaela keeps quiet next to him.

"I'd rather speak up," Han lets his suggestion hang in the air for anyone to get the meaning of it.

"I mean..." Mikaela breaks out of her silence.

"It was an accident. We were showering together and I kind of touched," she pauses to avoid continuing her sentence.

Your jaw drops in surprise because that's just a stupid thing to do. They're struggling to take their hands off each other yet they had a shower together, it would be impossible for something to not happen in there.

"We thought it wouldn't be a rule break," Mikaela adds, in what is supposed to be her words of defense.

"It doesn't matter," Finn remarks with an annoyed look on his face.

You doubt that that's the only infraction they did in there and everyone seems to think so. You remind yourself to keep your tone calm to not upset her, "Mikaela, honey, is that it? Is that the only thing?"

Your question sends the tension soaring high but it's either they tell them the truth or face everyone's wrath. You hope they choose the former.

"We uh... we kissed," Mikaela meekly admits.

Indeed, they were aware of what they were doing and the repercussions of their actions.

"Rio and Mikaela, what you did goes against the rules of the retreat," Lana sternly remarks.

You just can't believe that they choose to act selfishly like this but you refrain yourself from talking, afraid that you'd say things you didn't mean.

"These rule breaks have cost the group $10,000."

Even Avery who's been Mikaela's supportive friend is looking just as disappointed as everyone. She has nothing to say to defend her and can only try to calm her down.

"I'm sorry, you guys," Mikaela apologizes with an exasperated sigh.

"The prize fund now stands at $139,000."

YOU: What are they thinking? Really? Lana is not stupid. If she said it's a rule break, it is a rule break.

When you think Lana is going to end this agonizing meeting, Lana continues to speak still not letting everyone catch a breath.

"Rio and Mikaela, you have broken the most rules since arriving at the retreat and have repeatedly broken the trust of your fellow guests."

You lean back on the sofa and reluctantly listen to everything, exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions Lana puts you in.

"You must now prove to them that your connection is more than just physical. You will face the ultimate test of chastity."

"Sorry?" Sawyer asks, afraid that she misheard what Lana just said.

"Rio and Mikaela, you must spend the night alone in the private suite."

Finn sarcastically laughs at that, "We're done. We're done for."

Nya looks at Mikaela and asks, "Are you going to do anything?"

That seems to trigger her that Mikaela starts to ramble, "I feel like getting negative energy, right now. We're being pointed and like... I don't understand."

Well, after what they did, it only makes sense that everyone doubts they'll pass this test.

"Please make your way to the suite," Lana orders.

And Rio couldn't take Mikaela faster to the private suite.

YOU: [shrugs] I think we're finished.

Han can't wait to sleep on it but he senses something as Lana is not letting everyone go even after Rio and Mikaela leave for the private suite.

This is supposed to be a good night for him, he told you about his feelings and it was well-received, then the party was fun.

It was great until he sees Lana's cone-shaped body. He puts his arm around to seek comfort from you and you rest your head on his shoulder right away.

"Forming meaningful relationships with people always starts with trust. My question is how much do you trust Rio and Mikaela?"

That is the hardest yet the easiest question to answer. Hard because Han trusts Rio so much, he's the closest to him amongst everyone else here but it's also easy because of what they did when they're together.

Han trusts Rio but he doesn't trust him when he's with Mikaela.

"Jeez..." Asher hisses.

"All they're doing is losing money," Finn says with a snide smile.

"If you decide to trust them and they pass the test, the $40,000 that has been lost so far will be returned to the prize fund."

Some are gasping and a few others are sighing in pessimism. Sure, $40,000 is a lot but everyone's concern is on whether Rio and Mikaela will pass the test or not.

"But if you decide to trust them and they fail the test, the prize fund will drop by a further $40,000."

"Nah, no way," Asher immediately responds with a head shake.

As much as Han wants to back Rio, he has as little faith as everyone that they'll pass the test. However, it's not just about their friendship, it's about money and the group as a whole.

"They got so much shit tonight, they're not going to do it," Gwen says.

But coming from someone who's only been in the retreat for a day, everyone dismisses her right away.

"They know they'll lose money if they do anything," Finn surprisingly takes Rio's side but Han believes it's because he wants the money back.

"Guys," Avery is taking her turn to speak now, "This is a real test. Watch them actually pass it."

Now that it's coming from Mikaela's close friend, everyone listens to her, and their minds slightly change.

"This is their chance of redemption," Avery concludes.

A moment passes as everyone tries to mull things over, deciding whether to trust that they'll pass the test or not for a chance to get a lot of money back.

In the end, it's being decided by voting.

"If you think that we should trust them, hands up right now!" Finn says.

Hands are rising to the air in favor of trusting Rio and Mikaela to not break any rules in the private suite. Han also raises his hand, going with the majority.

He then turns his head to see that you're not raising your hand along with Sawyer sitting on the other side of him, he respects that.

"Thank you. I have noted your decision. Goodbye," Lana ends the session with a grim closing.

HAN: I trust my boy, Rio so I'll ride with the majority

They're making a big mistake.

Yes, there's a chance to gain some money but they forget that they also risk losing more money for doing it. Anyway, you voted no and if things didn't go as they wanted, you wouldn't be a part of it.

You groan as Han puts his whole body on top of you, propping his hands on each side of your head with his face hovering only inches away from yours.

He flashes you that gummy smile, then leans in to whisper, "I feel like we're getting closer."

You put your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, pulling him close against your body.

"And we're getting a lot closer now," you playfully say back.

He buries his head in your neck and you can feel his warm breath fanning the sensitive skin, making you tingling inside.

You still feel the slight shock from the sudden confession he told you earlier in the bathroom and you feel the need to ask him if he was just saying it because he feels like it or...

"'I like you,' huh? Where did that come from?" You ask him with your hand on the back of his hair, ruffling it between your fingers.

Han pulls away to hover above you, he props his elbow against the mattress to support his head, "I like the fact that you're a bit silly like me," he says.

You scrunch your nose at that, "You're a whole lot of silly," you disagree with him.

"You're fun to be with, you're not taking things seriously, I... I'm enjoying getting to know you," he answers.

Han then leans in and presses his nose to your cheek, "How about you? How do you feel?"

You look away and pretend to think, "Uhm... you're alright, I guess," you add a shrug to tease him.

He drops his head into your neck as he breaks into laughter and tries to muffle it as everyone else is trying to sleep in the room.

"Well, that's what I like about you, you're so chill..." he compliments.

He looks at you as he continues talking with his hand playing with the strand of hair on the side of your head, "I've been pushing my feelings away but now, I gave in," he sincerely tells you.

You place your hand on his arm and feel his warm skin as you intently listen to him speaking his heart out.

"I admitted to how I feel and honestly, don't regret it," he finishes and brushes your hair away from covering your face.

It's heartwarming to hear everything he said and know that underneath that goofy layer of his, there's a part of him that is so pure and earnest, proving to you that he's not this cool guy he disguised himself him when it comes to someone he likes.

"I don't know what you want to do with it..." You try to articulate your thoughts into words but also avoid giving him the wrong idea.

"I think it would be cool to get to know each other and see what happens, see if something comes out of it," you tell him.

You're not trying to play his game plan back to him but you want to play it cool.

"Okay," he agrees with a sweet smile.

"You blew my mind, really," you tell him how surprised you are by his sudden confession.

"Well, I kind of want to blow you elsewhere but..."

You gently slap him on the arm and pull him, holding him close to wish him goodnight.

"Goodnight," he wishes back with a soft kiss on your cheek.

YOU: I do like Han but also, he did tell me that he liked Avery so... I don't want to get hurt. I can only hope that he's telling the truth.

Lana chimes the second the lights are on.

You groan as you force your eyes to open and squint to see the cone blinking in the middle of the room. You pull the duvet to your chest, waiting to hear what Lana has to say early in the morning.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Mmh... morning," You're slurring your words as you yawn at the end of your sentence.

"Are you feeling optimistic?" Lana asks, reminding everyone of the big gamble they did last night.

"I think we'll get the money back," Avery says, standing firm on her ground.

"Given Rio and Mikaela's history, you might be, as humans say, screwed."

Is Lana hinting that they didn't pass the test? You thought by voting no, you would be excluded from feeling guilty about it but you feel it nonetheless.

"I feel broke already," Asher groans as he tries to sit on the bed.

"I think they've got it," Avery says while twirling her hair in her fingers, looking not convinced by her own words.

You don't want to think about it but here we are, talking about it the moment you woke up and now you can't stop thinking about it.

You turn on the bed and put half of your body to overlap Han's, cuddling him as usual before starting the day. You look at his face and see that his eyes are closed, even with his face is slightly swollen and his hair is disheveled, he looks adorable to you.

You poke the tiny mole he has on his cheek, "Morning, goober."

He takes your hand away to kiss your plan then puts it across his chest, "Let's sleep for another five minutes," he mutters with eyes closed.

Feeling playful, you put your mouth close to his ear and whisper, "Okay."

YOU: But honestly, if Rio and Mikaela cost us any more money, I'll be fuming.

When Lana calls you, you drop everything and go.

You're not done with your makeup yet when she calls everyone to the cabana. You drag yourself to get there with Avery linking her arm with yours.

With the two of you as the last ones to get there, you decide to sit at the end of the sofa.

Everyone is looking nervous as they wait for anyone to come in, either Rio and Mikaela or Lana.

After a while, it turns out to be the former. Rio and Mikaela look happy and you know looking happy doesn't mean they did something but it makes you nervous seeing the smiles on their faces.

Lana chimes not long after, saving them from being drilled with questions by everyone.

"Hello, everyone."

"Hi, Lana," you weakly reply.

"Rio and Mikaela, how was your night at the suite?" Lana asks the most spending couple.

"Oh, yeah? What happened?" Finn asks with faint enthusiasm.

Mikaela looks at Rio before answering, "It was romantic."

"How romantic?" Nya asks.

"Bubble bath, champagne, rose petals... it was beautiful," Mikaela answers with a smile on her face.

You look at the ones who voted to trust them and see if anyone shows regrets.

"Rio and Mikaela's stay in the suite was the ultimate test of restraint to further their connection without surrendering to physical desires."

You half-heartedly listen to Lana as you start to get a bad feeling about everything and prepare yourself for the worst outcome.

"However, this was also a test of trust."

From the looks on their faces, Rio and Mikaela seem to not expect that Lana is brewing something behind them.

"Rio and Mikaela, when you left the suite, I asked the group whether they would put their fate on you as a couple."

Mikaela's jaw drops at the information and her face dims as if someone has turned off the lights.

"If they trusted you not to break the rules, I would reimburse the $40,000 you both lost so far."

Rio rubs his hands together and licks his thick lips, having nothing to say but you can't quite tell if it's a good or a bad quiet.

"However, if you broke any rules in the private suite, an additional $40,000 would be deducted from the prize fund."

"That's how much faith we had in both of you," Avery says and intentionally, makes it sound like a warning to them.

You take another look around and can see that most of everyone regrets their decisions already.

"I can reveal that Rio and Mikaela did break the rules," Lana announces.

YOU: Don't say I didn't warn you.

To say that he's disappointed would be an understatement.

Han can't believe that someone he thinks that's like a brother to him would do such stupid things. He knows that he should not do it, they should take this test as a way to earn everyone's trust but they wasted it away.

Not to mention, wasted some more money too.

"What did you do?" Nya asks.

"We maybe uhm... kissed," Mikaela answers.

"Again?" Asher gasps in shock.

"Did you think for a second that maybe it's not a good idea? That you knew you had to resist it?" Avery says, gritting her teeth as she speaks to Mikaela.

To everyone's surprise, Mikaela doesn't look like she's feeling guilty or shows even the slightest of remorse on her pretty face.

"And because you kissed twice, you have been fined an additional $12,000."

Han thinks that's already the worst of it but Lana doesn't stop there.

"That means your night at the suite has cost the group a total of $52,000."

"I'm sorry I failed you all," Rio finally speaks up for the first time today.

"We-we don't know you bet all of that money on us," Mikaela defends but that's so out of touch.

"But we— You were put to the ultimate test," Avery pressed the focus on the matter and that she shouldn't blame everyone when they're the ones who shit the bed.

"I know," Mikaela says, defeated but still not looking sorry for what she did.

"The prize fund now stands at $87,000. Goodbye."

HAN: $52,000 for two kisses? [Shakes head] It's not even funny anymore.

You walk back to the dressing room to finish getting ready for the day even though you don't feel like doing it anymore after losing more than half of the prize money when it's not even halfway of the retreat.

You take a long sip of water from your tumbler then sit on your usual spot on the vanity table.

Nya, Gwen, and Sawyer are there too, probably can't find anywhere else to vent but here. The room is loud with their rant and frustrated groans.

Unfortunately, Mikaela steps into the dressing room and everyone gets quiet as she takes a seat on the chair. She looks at everyone but none of them is looking at her.

"I feel like I need to come here and talk to everyone," she says.

You pick up your eyebrow pencil and carefully fill in your eyebrows with it while looking into the mirror.

"You guys shouldn't put your trust in us," Mikaela says.

Instead of sincerely apologizing, Mikaela flips it back to everyone and hopes that it'll make everyone feel better. Nya scoffs at that while the others keep on ignoring her.

"I feel guilty. I feel so bad right now," Mikaela says in the hope that's enough to assure everyone that she's sorry.

Sawyer puts down her hairbrush and starts talking, "I don't think you're sorry for doing it."

You look to the side and see that Sawyer is speaking up for everybody here.

"I think you just feel bad at how bad we're reacting," Sawyer points out.

And she's right. Mikaela only feels bad because no one is taking her side and not because she feels bad for what she did.

"I mean, is it like what? Seven times? You're obviously not sorry for what you're doing," Nya also can't help herself from adding to it.

It's clear that everyone is not pleased with Mikaela and her behavior, especially without Avery on her side to help her.

YOU: Mikaela, [holds up hand] please!

"I'm genuinely sorry from the bottom of my heart," Rio begins with a heartfelt apology as the boys gather in the bedroom.

Han is not sure an apology would ail this sense of betrayal he feels but at the same time, he doesn't know what Rio can do to make it go away.

"If you were smart, you should have slept away from each other," Finn rants.

Meanwhile, Asher is sitting still on his bed, scratching at his head with a blank expression on his face.

"I put everything on you, man..." Peyton says with a low sigh.

Han still doesn't know what to say but he guesses that Rio can see the disappointment on his face as he presses his lips together into a thin line.

"I'm genuinely sorry," Rio apologizes again.

He leans forward with his hands clasped in front of him, "Over time, you'll see that," he finishes.

If only his apology brought back the money they'd lost, Han wouldn't be this mad and so would anyone, but well...

HAN: Obviously, they had no idea we risked that much money on them and I do feel sorry but they should have known it's called the ultimate test for a reason.

"Looking like a handsome sausage!"

Han breaks into laughter as you watch him getting ready in the bathroom, then continues combing his dark hair while looking into the mirror.

"We got called to the cabana," you inform, leaning your body against the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Bleugh!" Han reacts with a groan and takes a can of hairspray for his hair.

"I know," you agree with him.

Han is indeed looking good in his red shirt and dark slacks but oftentimes, he wonders why he is impeccably dressed up just to get anxious over a talking cone.

"My belly is turning," you whisper to him.

Unluckily, Han can't give you the comfort you need when he feels the same way. He puts a hand on yours and intertwines it, resting it on your thigh.

The cone chimes and everyone gets tensed at the sound of it.

"From the date I've gathered during your stay in retreat so far," Lana skips the usual greeting and that only means she's angry.

"I must inform you that some of you have not demonstrated the capacity to make deeper, emotional connections."

Is it what Han thinks it is?

"Oh, my days..." Nya weakly gasps.

He holds your hand tighter, afraid that his thought manifested into reality.

"There are two guests that have not committed to the retreat or show signs of progress."

It's becoming real now that his heart is pounding out of his chest. At this point, he can't tell who these two people are because Lana is the only one who can objectively see everyone's progress in this retreat.

"And I must bring their time here to an end."

He can't believe what he heard but as you press your head into his shoulder, he knows he heard it right. Lana is sending two people home, right now.

HAN: I am freaking out. I want to get to know her and see where that might go so... I don't want to go home.

The possibility that this might be his last night in the retreat is there. Han puts his arm around you, pulling you close and putting his head close to you, catching that natural scent of your body as he breathes you in.

"The first person who has to leave the retreat tonight is..."

Everybody is nervous and the tension is rising, everyone is uncomfortable in their seats. Han is stressed, thinking that it would be him.

"Sawyer."

Nya, the one sitting next to her, throws her hands around her while Fabian who sits on the other side, gently squeezes her shoulder.

"Sawyer, you have failed to commit to the process or make any emotional connections. I have calculated that you have the lowest possibility of forming meaningful relationships," Lana lays out the reasons why she's being sent out of the retreat.

Sawyer sadly smiles and looks at everyone, "It's okay, you guys," she says but her eyes are glossy with tears.

Nya rests her head on her shoulder and holds her hand, snuggling up to her as if she's the one who needs the comfort not the other way around.

"The second person leaving the retreat tonight is..."

Han feels like someone is squeezing his heart dry and his throat is closing up, making it hard for him to breathe.

"Peyton."

Han is unconsciously gripping your shoulder and you end up holding him, providing him the comfort he seeks by placing rubs on his back.

"Peyton, you have continued to display behavior from your player past and you have shown no remorse or signs of change."

Peyton puts on a smile and coyly says, "I don't say much but all of you are like family to me."

Avery sniffs with her eyes wet with tears while Nya looks like she knows it's coming for him.

"Sawyer and Peyton, please leave the retreat."

It feels like he's letting them down even though Han is not the one with the decision to cut them off the show. He feels sorry for them as he hugs them and bids them farewell.

"See you again, everyone!" Sawyer says for the last time before leaving the villa.

Everyone is just as gutted as he is, sitting on the sofa waiting for Lana to finish speaking.

"I hope the rest of you take this as a lesson to take this process more seriously."

When bedtime comes, it feels not right to see one bed empty.

He feels bad for them but he's also relieved that it's not him and you, he's not ready to go home yet. Moreover, he is determined to make progress in this retreat.

He dives into your arms and lets you hold him, keeping him in your warm embrace.

As if you know he needs your comfort, you gently rub the back of his neck, "I'm still here," you whisper with a soft laugh.

He smiles hearing that and places a kiss on your cheek, "I know."

HAN: We've just started getting to know each other so I'm glad that we're staying.

It's another day in the retreat and another day of spending hours to get ready for the day.

You understand that you should look presentable because you're in a TV show but doing it for almost two weeks now, you're getting tired of it now.

"You look cute in that bikini, babe," Avery compliments you as you put on a black pair of bikini.

You take a step back to see the whole look in the mirror, "Mmh, yeah, I look good," you agree with her.

One thing you learn in this retreat other than making emotional connections is that you like hanging out with girls.

Instead of rivalry, the girls are very supportive of each other, you can see that from compliments being thrown around the dressing room every five minutes.

The only girl that isn't vibing with you is Lana.

After a very intense day yesterday, you feel like turning the other way instead of going to the cabana. It's like you can't go on with your day without seeing her cone-shaped body.

"Come, baby cake," Han holds his hand out at you.

You take his hand only to let him pull you hard until you topple onto his lap, making you laugh as he puts his hands around you.

"It's kind of suspicious to me that there are presents for us," Asher says.

You wouldn't notice the small boxes on the table if Asher didn't say anything, not sure if it's a present but it looks like it from how the lid is wrapped with a pretty bow.

"Hello, everyone," Lana greets as soon as she comes online.

You get off Han's lap to sit on the sofa since it's not a good time to get cuddly.

"I have a gift for each of you."

Lana confirms your guess but you get nervous instead of excited for it. It's never just a gift, there must be something else in there.

"What it is, Lana?" Finn asks.

"The gifts will serve as a reward for those couples who show me that they're taking the right steps toward deeper connections. They will be given the chance to take those connections further."

Everyone is intently listening, probably wondering if there's a catch behind this sudden gift-giving.

"Can we open it?" Nya asks with eagerness.

With the cue given by the staff, everyone takes one box from the table and discovers a smartwatch inside.

"For free?" Han innocently asks you.

You're cackling as you put the watch around his wrist and let him do the same with yours.

"When I observe two people forming a genuine connection, they will be given a green light like this..."

Lana demonstrates it by turning the watches green along with a melodic chime of hers and everyone is cheering in reaction.

"... where the rules do not apply for a little amount of time."

Han leans in to whisper into your ear to relay Lana's message, "Green light means we can fuck."

You burst into laughter and gently push his head away, stopping him from saying another silly thing. That doesn't stop him from resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I would like to remind you that those who do not receive a green light are not displaying enough progress."

You see that everyone is excited about these watches, well, the idea of getting a pass to rule break is nice but knowing Lana, earning a green light wouldn't be easy.

"Thank you, Lana!" You thank her nonetheless.

YOU: With this [shows watches] I think I'm ready to deepen my connection with Han.

Motivated by the promise of a green light, you pull Han aside, walking to the beach together to get some privacy to talk with him.

You both sit on rocks facing the beach with the surface of the water reflecting the afternoon sun at you. You've been meaning to talk to him about your feelings and you don't like talking about your feelings so it's going to be hard to open up.

However, you know he gave you a lot and you've only given him so little.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about us," you begin.

"Okay," Han says with a nod.

"I know I've been holding myself back a little," you admit to him with a thin smile.

"A little?"

You smile at that and corrected it, "I keep my guard up."

"I think the Avery situation plays on the back of your head, huh?" He correctly guesses.

Well, that's one of the reasons so you nod, "Yeah, it does."

Han gazes into your eyes even though he has to squint under the bright sun to do that, "I barely spoke two words with Avery, I didn’t vibe with her. It was purely physical attraction," he says.

He pulls his legs and puts his hands on his knees, "But spending time with you, getting to know you, it all feels natural, you know?"

You nod in agreement because it does feel natural like you've known him for years instead of days.

"I feel like now... if anyone else came in, I'd still stick with you no matter what," he earnestly says to you.

It feels like discovering a new side of him and this talk feels intimate because it feels like you're talking to his heart from how open and sincere he is with his words.

"It's not just that," you confess.

It's been so long that you haven't been this open to anyone that you forgot how and it scares you so much. You keep retreating even though you keep reminding yourself to lower your guard down even just a little.

"The last time I opened up to someone, I got badly hurt and it makes me scared of commitment," your heart aches as the truth escapes your mouth.

"That's my problem," you say with a nervous laugh.

Somehow, letting those hurt out sets you free from the burdening past and you feel so much lighter and better. As you gaze into his eyes, you feel like you can tell him anything now.

"Yesterday made a massive difference."

"What do you mean?" He asks with an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't want to lose you," you sincerely tell him.

Han leans forward, trying to get as close to you until his knees bump with yours. He takes your hands and holds them while keep looking into your eyes.

"I knew that you were the only one I connected with since day one," you confess and you hope it's enough to tell him how you really feel.

He smiles at you, the silly one that makes you can't help but smile back to him.

"I want to kiss you now," he says to you.

"We can't. Unless this turns green," you remind him while showing him the watch on your wrist.

He then looks at the vast sea behind you and comes up with an absurd idea, "Do you think Lana's rules still applies on international water?"

This is why you like him, he's not only tugging at your heartstrings but he also shakes it, teases it, and twirls it around his little finger.

YOU: To be honest, I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else but him [smiles]

sThe boys are off to do a workshop in the front yard and the girls are hanging out by the beach, talking about, well... boys.

"It's so hard to keep my hands off of him," Gwen shares.

Recently, a few people have been doing bed swaps. Since the night Asher kissed her, Gwen now shares the bed with him while Avery is now sharing the bed with Nya.

"How do you feel about him?" You ask out of curiosity.

Gwen brushes her hair to the side, "I like that he's so fun to be with and not afraid to make a fool out of himself," she answers.

"Do you see any possibility that it could be more than that?" You ask.

The question seems to take her aback that she takes a minute to think, "Yeah, I think so but let's see," she vaguely answers.

"It'd be amazing to have more people in here," Avery says.

Nya turns her head around to look at Avery, "And more of my type," she adds.

"Someone with confidence, masculinity..." Avery lists all of the things she wants from a man.

"And big hands!" Nya continues her sentence which sends everyone into laughter.

"We just need more meat in here!" Nya desperately wishes her heart out and hopes that it's loud enough for Lana to hear.

It's like Lana hears their prayers, someone steps into the villa but unfortunately, it's not one she wishes for.

Avery lets out a shriek and covers her mouth too late to muffle it, "Oh, my God!"

"Is that a new girl?" Mikaela asks, looking suddenly intimidated but doing a great job masking it with excitement.

The new girl waves her hands, looking at everyone with a bright smile on her face, "Hello, hi, babes!"

You hear a British accent and that explains the distinct charms she has. When she introduces herself, she holds strong eye contact with you, "I'm Portia."

You exchange a quick hug and kiss both cheeks, "You're gorgeous," you tell her in admiration.

"No, you're gorgeous," she flips the compliment back at you with a sweet smile that showcases her dimples.

The girls look fine sharing the attention with the new girl but you can see the sheer disappointment drawn on Nya and Avery's faces.

But guess what? Another guest walks into the retreat and finally, it's one they're looking for.

It's a whole lot of meat in one man, Nya will have her desired feast. He's tall, has stunning brown skin, and a charming smile, you spot a few tattoos on his body too.

"I'm Ed," he introduces himself around.

He looks pleased being the only man in the villa at the moment, "You're all so beautiful," he says with a grin.

Avery is smitten already, she can't take her eyes off of Ed. You're afraid that she has to share him with Nya and you notice that his eyes are on you.

"So, what is your type, Ed?" You ask, being the one to start the conversation so the available girls would know which one he's more into.

"I don't really have a type, just someone I vibe with," he coyly answers.

Avery laughs even though there's nothing funny with what he said. On the other hand, Mikaela seems to be worried that the new girl is going to steal Rio away from her when clearly, she hasn't even met him yet.

"What about you? Do you have a type?" Mikaela asks her.

"Tall, gorgeous, nice smile..." Portia answers with a giggle.

You almost choked on air hearing it, "That's Rio," you blurt out.

"Well, Rio and I, we've been together since day one so..." Mikaela indirectly tells the new girl to not touch his man. She may as well piss on Rio to mark her territory.

You exclude yourself from their chat and decide to join the other group of girls talking to the new guy.

"That's some sick tattoos you got there," Ed says as he looks at the tattoos on your arm.

"Thank you. You got some uh... impressive ones," you say, but it's hard looking at them when his toned abs keep distracting you.

He lightly touches your inner arm to show you which one he likes, "This. I like this."

You shudder at the contact like you've been zapped by electricity and at the same time, you see the boys are returning from the workshop.

YOU: New guests mean more rule breaks [laughs] I just hope that they catch up on our progress fast [laughs]

What is happening? Han comes back from the workshop to find that there are two new guests in the villa.

One is a beautiful brunette and the other one is a tattoed guy with tousled hair that makes him look like he's just rolled out of the bed looking attractive like that.

If Lana's plan is trying to intimidate him, no, it's not working. However, if the plan is to try to make him jealous then yes, she's succeeded at it.

The new guy touching your arm in an excuse to see your tattoo and as a player himself, he knows that it's just one of his tricks.

Everyone is going around introducing each other and he can see that Finn and Fabian have their eyes on the new girl, surprisingly, Rio too. He looks over to Mikaela and she has the right to drill a hole on her head with her laser eyes.

"Portia, what do you think about the boys? Do you like what you see?" Asher asks, representing the curious singles in the villa.

"Yeah," she shortly answers.

"I'm excited to have fun and get to know everyone," she says with her eyes daringly glancing in Rio's direction.

"Are you planning on breaking rules or what?" Finn asks straight to the point, still has his priorities right as the sex police.

Portia giggles at that and then lightly shakes her head, "I can't promise anything."

This new girl looks cute, with freckles dusted her cheeks and a dimpled smile but he senses that she's going to stir things up in this retreat.

With the two new guests, the dressing room is a lot more crowded than usual. Han dresses up in a black shirt and jeans, styling his hair with Asher putting his long hair into a bun next to him.

"What do you think?" Asher asks him for his opinion.

He looks at him, up and down to know if the whole look complements each other, "Great, man," he says.

Seeing the new guy able to land his hand on you merely a few minutes after he stepped into the villa, Han feels like he needs reassurance that you're still doing it with him, getting to know each other and making deeper connections.

It's so easy to play cool and confident but you've seen everything in him, he knows that you'll see right through him.

No one ever told him that liking someone makes him more insecure about himself.

While everyone else is hanging around the new guests at the firepit, he pulls you aside to talk on the small sofa where you both squeeze yourselves into.

Han slouches with his head resting against the sofa, looking up at you while you're propping a hand under your head and one leg draping between his legs.

You look so beautiful in that tight black dress, you smell so good and those lips tantalize him more than usual tonight.

With his arm around you, he aimlessly runs his fingers on the small of your back, "What do you think of the new guy?"

You peer down at his face and ask back, "Ed?"

He's only been here for hours and you already addressed him with his name. Again, no one ever told him that liking someone makes him think irrationally.

"Do you think he's good-looking?"

You think for a second then nod, "Yeah."

"Handsome?"

"Mmh," you nod again.

"And I'm not handsome?" He asks with a grin but genuinely curious what you think of him physically.

You crack a laugh and think again for a while, "Yeah."

"'Yeah I'm not handsome' or 'Yeah I'm handsome'?"

You're laughing instead of answering and his hand stops moving on your back, waiting for you to answer.

"Is that why you don't want to kiss me?" He asks, turning serious all of a sudden, then looks away to not let you see how embarrassed he is asking you this.

You stop propping your head with your hand and put your hand on his chest, "First of all, you're not handsome," you tell him.

"I'm super handsome, I know," he entertains himself.

"You're cute," you say with a gentle pinch on his chin, "And I like cute guys.

That makes him look back at you with a smile that blooms on his face, "How cute?"

You lean in close to tease him, leaving only a few inches of space between your lips and his, "Very cute."

Han is already dizzy with your warm, sweet breath brushing his cheek as you speak. His eyes drop to your lips as they tantalize him more and more.

"Kiss me then, I'm cute," he teases back by putting his hand on the nape of your neck, not letting you back away.

"How about Lana? The money, mmh?" You softly rub the tip of your nose against his cheek.

"I don't think they'd mind us breaking a rule," Han reckons since none of you have broken any rules yet it's more likely that everyone will let it pass.

You cup his jaw and softly swipe his lips with your thumb, "You think so?"

From the way you're looking at his lips, he knows that this is also what you want.

"Yeah..." he breathlessly says, his throat getting dry the more he craves your lips.

"Mmh..." you answer with a sultry hum.

Han can't take it anymore. He slowly pulls your head close until your lips collide in an explosive kiss, a kiss that obliterates his senses and stirs chaos inside his head.

His tongue pries open your mouth and you eventually cave in, letting him invade you, tasting more of you. He's so deep in it, drowning himself in it that breathing doesn't feel necessary anymore to him.

Oh, he loves your low moans that slip out against his lips and the hand that lingers on his neck. He also feels your leg slowly rubbing his inner thigh, inviting the other part of him to come and join.

He almost pouts when you pull away from the kiss, and you console him with a quick peck on the lips, "That's enough for tonight," you say.

He doesn't want to stop but he looks at the bright side of things, there's always another night.

"We should wipe that lipstick mark..." you sigh as you clean his lips with your thumb.

His hand flies to your lips, helping you to fix your smudged lipstick so as to not leave any evidence for everyone to see. However, touching your lips only makes him want to kiss you again.

As if you're reading his mind, you immediately retract yourself from him to get a space, you take the chance to fix your hair and then your dress.

He helps by pulling down the hem of your dress to cover your exposed thighs. He leans to your side and whispers, "That was a good kiss."

That doesn't enough for him, he then throws himself at you, putting his arms around you as he pinned you down on the sofa, "Fuck, that was so good," he sighs again into the crook of your neck.

Wrapping your arms around him, you bring your mouth close to his ear and murmur, "Don't get used to it."

HAN: It feels like I kissed a girl for the first time all over again [smiles]

Lana seems to let him go for the night and Han can't tell if he should feel lucky or what.

Eventually, Lana will tell everyone and everyone will know that they kissed, he is very well aware of that.

But God! That kiss was so good and it was worth every penny of that $6,000 he spent on it. He didn't even think of the money because he was kissing you and you're such a good kisser.

It wouldn't be like every other night, it would be hard for him to sleep next to you tonight and not try to kiss you. He licks his lips to get any taste of you that lingers in his and his head is spinning, a little lightheaded thinking of the kiss.

Most of everyone is already on their beds and he's been waiting for you long enough he starts to get antsy. Truthfully, he just can't wait to see you so he walks to the dressing room, he finds you sitting and applying something to your face.

"Baby," he calls you from the doorway.

"Yeah?" You answer without looking away from the mirror.

"When are you coming to bed?" he asks, half whining.

"In a few minutes," you reply, carefully dabbing the skin around your eyes with your finger.

"Come to bed..." he grumbles as he walks up to you only to realize that someone else is there.

The new girl, Portia, is brushing her hair on the other side of the vanity table. Han immediately gets embarrassed for acting like a toddler to you, not knowing there's someone else there.

"You guys are very cute," She shortly comments with a smile.

Han can only wait until Portia leaves the room to start talking with you, even though he's not sure if it's a good idea to be alone with you.

He watches as you dab your lips with lip balm and smack them together, inviting him to touch and feel the softness of your lips.

"Put some on me too," he says.

You hand him the lip balm to put it on himself but he refuses, shaking his head at you. You reluctantly put it on for him, and slowly glides the lip balm on his lips.

"Okay, now we're ready to kiss," he says after smacking his lips together.

You gently push him away and swivel your chair to the other way, "Told you not to get used to it," you say, getting up from the chair.

He puts his arms around you, hugging you from the back while you're putting your things back into your make-up bag. You smell so good that he can't help but plant his nose in your neck, getting himself drunk in your scent.

You start walking in the direction of the door, dragging him to you with your hands on his, "Let's go to bed."

"One more kiss," he whispers with a soft kiss on the sensitive skin behind your ear.

You look at him through the reflection in the mirror with his head buried in your neck, "We can't rule break again," you tell him.

He starts whining like a baby, humming against your skin with his arms tightening around you.

"You're just a baby, mmh?" You gently nudge his chin with your shoulder.

"It's better to get scolded for two kisses than one," he offers his idea to you.

You softly laugh at him and you seem to be more worried about anyone finding the two of you here alone from the way you keep looking at the doorway.

"I know you want it too," he teases you, then playfully bites at your ear shell.

You take his hands away from you but instead of walking away, you push him until he's pinned against the Asher's close on the other side of the dressing room to prevent anyone from walking in on you unnoticed.

"You won't stop until we do it, mmh?" You murmur, putting your body against him and dropping your hands on his shoulders.

He looks into your eyes as they sparkle and he can see that you want it too. But you get ahead of him, crashing your lips against him and knocking the air out of him.

Somehow this kiss is better than the first one and he gets even hungrier for you, opening his mouth to take more of you.

He twirls your tongue with yours and mischievously, you gently tug it between your teeth as he tries to pull away, giggling when you finally let go.

The temperature in the room seems to have raised a few degrees, making him feel hot all over yet he pulls you incredibly closer, leaving not even an inch between your bodies. He has one hand on the arch of your back and the other on the nape of your neck so he can angle your head as he pleases

With your body pressed against him, he can feel it starts to mold to his body and he wants to feel every curve of your body with his hand.

You immediately drag his hand back as he attempts to touch your rear, clicking your tongue at him as you pull away from the kiss.

"That's enough rule breaks!"

You leave him with his mouth hanging open and his lips wet from the kisses, it's cruel that you leave him wanting more.

"We can't enter the bedroom together so..."

You take steps back from him and walk in the direction of the door, "Wait for a few minutes then you can come to the bedroom," you instruct him.

He manages to catch your hand before you walk away, "One more kiss."

"No!" You refuse but with a sly smirk on your face, hinting that you're not completely opposed to the idea.

"I know you like it," he says, standing in the middle of the room, defeated.

You stop by the doorway and look over your shoulder, "I meant it, wait for a few minutes!" You remind him.

You know what? They'll eventually know so he doesn't why you bother to avoid everyone's suspicion.

HAN: I started paying attention to the little things she does. How she purrs in her sleep like a kitten or scrunches her nose before smiling [shyly laughs] everything about her is adorable except the kisses... her kisses are out of this world!

Is this how everyone feels when they know they're about to get exposed by Lana?

Surely, you can't calm down like usual since you blatantly broke the rules twice last night. You didn't even think about the money at that time and the guilt only hit you right now, fast and hard.

Well, it's not like you commit a murder or something, it's just a kiss, well... two kisses and they cost $12,000. You gulp air thinking of the money you spent on those two kisses but in your defense, it was worth every cent of it.

You glance at Han and he flashes a knowing smile at you, there's no way out of this but through.

When the chime comes, your heart drops to your stomach and you inhale air to calm yourself.

"Hello, everyone," Lana starts the session as usual with a lukewarm greeting.

"Hey, Lana," you reply with a weak smile.

Han takes your hand so you can stop playing with the frayed hem of his sleeveless top and takes your other hand, pinning your hands by the wrists on his lap to make you stop fiddling altogether.

"I must now inform you that yesterday, further rulebreaks occurred."

You turn your head at him and he's looking calm, he even winks his eyes at you which you respond with a scoff.

Avery points her finger at Mikaela and Rio, the biggest spender in the villa.

"Not us," Mikaela immediately denies.

You look at Han, giving him the signals to start talking before the tension rises. He gets the cue right away, letting go of your hands to hold it instead.

"It's us," he coyly says.

Rio says something in Portuguese while Asher claps his hands, both impressed at him. You see that the response is not as horrifying as you thought it would be.

"Did you kiss or did anything else?" Finn asks, wanting to know how much you did so he can calculate the damage.

"We kissed. Twice," Han answers.

You get so embarrassed at how proud he is at admitting the rule breaks that you start laughing next to him. You suppress another wave of laughter to apologize.

"We're sorry, guys, everyone," you sincerely tell them.

YOU: Everyone is taking it well and I think it's because they know we have a genuine connection here.

"These rule breaks have cost the group $12,000," Lana informs.

However, you know it's not going to stay this calm when the bills turn up.

"The prize fund now stands at $75,000."

Now everyone's faces dim at the amount of money left in the prize fun and it's not much. You are sorry for breaking the rules but it's not right to put the whole blame on you.

Avery crosses her hands together and warns everyone, "No more rule breaks!"

It's so easy to say for her to say now. It was easy for you to refrain from anything sexual but now that you have a partner and you try to build a connection with him, it's so hard because physical affection helps you to achieve this connection you're having with him now.

"Is that all, Lana?" Finn asks.

"As you know, I encourage genuine romantic connections so I have planned dates for our latest guests," Lana comes with an announcement instead.

That gets the new guests, Portia and Ed excited hearing it. Only Mikaela looks like she's plotting a murder plan in her head.

"Ed, please select someone from the group to take on a date," Lana orders.

Feeling like he needs to show ownership over you, Han puts his arm around you as Ed is looking at the girls to take on a date.

Ed's eyes land at you for a second before it shift to Nya, "Are you up for anything later, Nya?"

Nya smiles so brightly and pretends to not care, "I don't know. I'll have to go check my schedule," she jokingly says.

You look at Avery and she looks a bit disappointed with it. She is pretty and all but maybe Nya fits his vibe more.

"Portia, please select someone from the group to take on a date."

Han leans into your ear and whispers, "I'd be worried if I were you."

You snort at that and you're not saying that there's zero possibility for it, it's just that you know Portia has her eyes on Rio. Not sure if she's gutsy enough to take someone's man on a date.

"Uhm... I would like to try and get to know someone," Portia says and she happens to sit next to Rio.

"I'd like to take..." she stalls with her eyes secretly glancing at Rio.

"Rio on a date," she finally says.

There's no one here that is not surprised by her daring move. Portia may look adorable with her freckles and blonde hair tied into pigtails but damn, she is ballsy.

"Sorry, Mikaela," she says to her but you don't hear any guilt in that apology.

Mikaela only nods and forces herself to smile, "Here we go," she sighs.

This only reminds you that you're indeed in a TV show and you believe the viewers would enjoy this drama so much because you're secretly enjoying it too.

"Thank you very much for the date," Rio says which only takes the drama further and sets Mikaela on fire.

Gosh, you feel incredibly good for not being a part of that drama. You put your hand across Han's chest and are just grateful that what you have with him is genuine.

YOU: If Rio kisses Portia on their date [shakes head] all hell will break loose on this retreat.

Mikaela is pacing around in the dressing room while the girls are getting ready for the night, except the ones that are on their dates.

"You have every right to feel like this. It's so shitty, I know," Avery says, validating her emotion while doing her make-up.

You see that Mikaela is on the verge of crying as she holds the back of her chair and grips at it, "it's been hard for me to build a genuine connection with Rio," she says.

Avery pauses doing her make-up to give her a gentle squeeze on her arm, "I know, I know," she comforts her.

Putting the drama aside, you feel bad for her because as wild as you can be you refrain from stealing someone's man. It's girls code and you're not a fan of anyone that has no respect for that.

"Mikaela, sit down, honey," you tell her because she's looking like she's about to faint.

She obeys you, taking a seat next to Avery and rubbing her temple in distress, "If he goes in and his head turns, just know that he's making poor decisions," she stutters her words trying to hold in her tears.

You're bad at comforting people so the least you can do is listen to her and make sure she feels heard.

"He's entertaining this, he-he's..." Mikaela can't keep it anymore so she bursts into tears.

In a second, Avery comes to her aid, holding her as she's crying. You reach for her shoulder to place tender rubs on it to comfort her.

"It's just that... I haven't been vulnerable to one person in so long," she says with a quivering voice.

You can relate to that more than ever and you'd feel the same way if it happened to you.

YOU: That's just what happens when you get too close to someone, they'll gain the power to control your emotions.

Consider him lucky that Mikaela-Rio-Portia drama diverted everyone's attention away from his $12,000 worth of rule break.

But here's a new problem: Han craves it more than before.

He blames you for having such addictive kisses that he can't wait to have more of it. However, he craves for something more than just kisses now.

Yes, he's aware of how dangerous it sounds but how can he can stop thinking about sexual things when you're always looking so damn sexy.

Just like tonight, you look so gorgeous in that black silk dress with thin straps and it showcases your beautiful neck that he wants to tear it off of you.

You drain your wine before sitting on his lap, "Hi, crawdaddy," you greet him with a giggle.

He sees you licking the drop of wine trying to escape the corner of your mouth and he wishes he could do it for you.

"You look so hot," he praises you with his hands on each side of your waist.

"Mmh?" You squint at him.

"What do the kids say now?" He thinks for a moment before continuing, "Fire!"

You laugh at his choice of compliments and put your hands on his muscular chest.

"You're fire!" He says again with a sly grin.

The night is lovely with the full moon hanging in the sky and the winds blowing so softly, brushing his skin with salty, warm air.

But all he can feel is the touch of your fingertips on his neck as you look into his eyes, "What are you thinking?"

Should he tell you what is inside his head right now? Not sure if it's a good idea though.

Han tucks the strands of hair escaping your ponytail behind your ear and keeps his hand there, holding one side of your head with such love.

"We have so much sexual chemistry going on, don't you think?"

"Mm-mmh," you nod in agreement.

"And I think we can have sex," he says.

Before you get it wrong, he quickly adds, "Only if you want to have sex."

You nod again and scratch the tip of your nose with your knuckle.

He puts your hand away and leans in close, "What do you think?"

You seem to hesitate to answer him, "Hmm..."

He leans in closer and places a soft kiss on your neck, you keep a safe distance with your hand firmly resting against his chest.

"I think we should stick to the rules," you tell him.

Then you put your hand on his neck and look at him as you continue talking, "I just don't want us to have sex and suddenly things change, I don't want things to change between us."

He pulls you close and locks his arms around you, "Things are not going to change between us," he assures you.

"I know," you say, "I'm just scared that it would happen."

He completely understands what you're saying that you're afraid that sex would change things between you and him.

"I know what you mean," he tells you.

To console himself, Han places another soft kiss on your cheek and looks at you as you endearingly brush his hair to the back.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd like to have sex with you," you bluntly say with a sly smirk.

"But..." You don't even get to finish your words as you pull him into a hug but that proves you're just as sexually frustrated as he is.

You pull away to look down at his crotch, patting his thigh as you say, "Down, boy!"

Han laughs, embarrassed that you know he's having a boner when you're only sitting on his lap. He wants you so much but at the same time, he wants to prove that it's just more than physical attraction.

With or without sex, he's a happy man to be with you.

HAN: I've been horny as it is... [sucks air through teeth] Hopefully I can hold out.

Another drama unfolds during bedtime.

You're joining Avery in chatting on Asher's bed, the three of you are chatting when Mikaela suddenly comes. She looks unhappy, duh, you'll be too when your man is on a date with another girl.

"Portia has disrespected me, she said some things on the date so I will be having some conversations with her," she says.

The three of you automatically look at each other and notice that Mikaela is having a meltdown. There's a concerning thing going on in the room so you walk back to your bed and so is Avery.

Mikaela is impatiently waiting for Portia to come into the bedroom while Rio is comfortably snuggling close to her on the bed.

You don't wait to share it with Han once he gets onto the bed, telling him everything he missed while he's away in the dressing room.

"Things can get ugly and I'm worried," you tell him.

Mikaela is an intelligent person, but when it comes to her emotions, she can be intense and almost volatile. You're right to never try to mess with her.

Han offers his arm as your pillow so he can cuddle you as it gets intense in the bedroom, you can see that from how everyone is looking tense on their beds.

The wind sends the door shut and Han gets startled, thinking that it's Portia as his head snaps in the direction of the door.

"What a fucking stress!" He sighs as he snuggles to you while you're lowly chuckling at his reaction.

The drama has to end in an unsatisfying way because Portia doesn't get on the bed yet even after the lights are out.

YOU: Mikaela has this fiery attitude so I... [laughs] I was really afraid that there'd be a fight but thank God for Portia's long bedtime routine.

There's already tension between Mikaela and Portia this morning and you can only hope that the workshop will help to sort things out.

There's an instructor already waiting in the front yard and a small bonfire in the middle, you wonder why they set a fire during the day.

"Hello, I'm Amy, a relationship expert," she introduces herself.

Everyone is sitting in a circle around the small bonfire and intently listening to Amy talking.

"Today's workshop is about letting go of the past so that we can be present. Let's talk about any issues in trust that we have with men."

She looks around as she asks, "Who wants to share first?"

No one seems to want to talk about their feelings, including you. You feel uncomfortable letting yourself bare and be vulnerable, especially in front of everyone.

After a few minutes passed in silence, Gwen decides to be the first to share her emotional baggage, a shocking one about how her friend cheated with her boyfriend.

Everyone starts to share their story and when it comes to your turn, you're shriveling a little but you remind yourself that you're in a safe space.

"My thing is when I fall in love, I tend to throw it all out there and end up getting hurt for it so... I kind of become numb because I don't want to get hurt," you honestly share.

"And do you find someone here you want to open to?" Amy asks.

"Yeah," you shyly answer.

You suddenly feel like a schoolgirl falling in love for the first time all over again but isn't it what love does to people? Making you a bit loopy.

"I found someone here that I like and I'm slowly opening up to him, and I'll continue to share more of me with him," you make a promise to yourself.

"That's good. That's great!" Amy praises you.

When you look back, you feel good knowing that you're slowly changing as a person, you came in as someone who's against relationships and now, you're sharing an emotional journey with someone, together.

The workshop started as a heartfelt talk between the girls until Mikaela's turn. You get the feeling that she'll use this as a chance to confront Portia.

"I met Rio here and he's just a really special guy, I've never met anyone like him."

Mikaela is looking at Amy then as she continues talking, she looks at Portia, "Last night, I had to sit through and watch Portia take Rio on a date, and obviously, I feel uncomfortable with it," she tells her right to her face.

You and the rest are watching Mikaela calmly handle her emotions and talk it out in a mature way with Portia.

"I don't want to feel like it has to be a competition or territorial. I want us girls to be on good terms but I think you break a boundary here," Mikaela concludes, throwing the ball at her court.

Portia gets quiet and she takes it all in really well, she smiles at her before speaking, "I respect you for speaking out and I'm sorry," she sincerely says.

A smile finally rises on Mikaela's face, "Thank you so much, Portia, that means a lot," she responds.

Like a parent, you feel proud watching them solving their issues in such a grown-up way and you hope it continues to stay good like this.

Amy then hands out a piece of paper and pens to everyone and comes with a new instruction, "You're going to write the things that have happened with your life that you're ready to let go of and forgive."

It feels good to be able to share things with everyone but it takes everything in you to write things down without getting emotional.

On your paper, you write, 'Good enough, perfect, comparison.'

Amy wants you to share the reason why you wrote those things down. You take a deep breath before explaining it.

"I never feel good about myself but the girls are..." You pause to look at everyone as they smile at you.

"They're all beautiful and kind, they help me learn my differences and things I love about me."

They're all cooing at you and you know how cringe it is but you don't feel embarrassed about it at all. It feels nice to let them know that.

After everyone shares what they wrote on their papers, Amy instructs everyone to take that paper and ball it up before throwing it into the bonfire.

"Just feel like you're putting it all behind you, right?" Amy says.

She gathers everyone into a circle before ending the workshop with a group hug to let go of all the bad and take the good with you.

These girls may seem superficial but you can feel that you and them are in this together and it's a really nice feeling. Despite that you're all different, you feel this sense of belonging toward each other, a sisterhood.

YOU: I still have some way to go but I know that I'm learning and Lana is starting to knock down my wall [smiles]

Going back to the villa, you go straight to the dressing room to dress up for a party Lana suspiciously throwing tonight.

You put your bad thoughts aside and focus on dressing up for the party as it has a Black and White theme.

Han comes up behind you and playfully bites you on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" You yelp in pain.

You continue fixing your make-up in front of the sink since everyone else is crowding the dressing room, "Why did you do that?"

He puts an arm around your waist, "Because you're edible," he answers with a foolish grin.

You glance back at him and sense that he's chipper than usual. You get it that it's getting hard to stay away from each other with sexual attraction getting more unbearable every day.

Gosh! There's not a day when you don't think of ripping his clothes off and having hot, filthy sex with him.

"That's not how I want you to eat me," you joke back.

He plants a long kiss on your neck, "How do you want me to eat you then?"

You chuckle and look at him, "Want you to eat me well, that is."

He puts his other arm around you and draws you closer, "I can do that."

"Yeah?"

He breathes you in and looks at you through the reflection in the mirror, "I can show you," he says.

Before it gets dangerous, you put an end to this conversation and playfully elbow his stomach.

"Ouch!" He yelps in pain this time.

You pull him into a hug for an apology and kiss his cheek, "Let's go, hubba hubba!"

A party is necessary so everyone can blow some steam off for being locked up in this sexless retreat but it also means that Lana plans to throw everyone off.

That doesn't stop you from enjoying the night and the company you're with. You're dancing to the music with your hands draping around Han's shoulders as he slowly sways your body together to the fast-paced music.

After the workshop, you feel much lighter and better, more importantly, you feel confident about how you feel. You look at Han and you feel like you can share anything with him, you can see a relationship with him.

So you hold on to him, tighter and closer but Lana, being the ultimate cockblock she is, chimes in and stops the party.

YOU: I have no idea what's about to come next but I know it's not going to be good.

It's like the fun has evaporated and been replaced by anxiety once everyone is seated in the cabana waiting for Lana to come online.

"I am very disappointed to report there were several breaches of the rules."

When Lana skips the formality and goes straight to the rule breaks, it means that she's pissed off. You feel good for not breaking the rules with Han after the last time so you don't have anything to worry about. You can freely guess who did it this time.

"We kissed on the date," Ed is kind enough to own up to it fast.

"I think it was okay, yeah," Nya adds to it.

Everyone seems to let them get away with it, maybe because it's one kiss and Ed and Nya are a potential couple. You don't know but you sense that they wouldn't like what they hear next.

"Ed and Nya, your rule break has cost the group $6,000."

Avery is rubbing her temple while Finn seems to have had enough of people selfishly spending the prize money.

"There was another breach of the rules," Lana informs.

Everyone is tense once again, looking around to catch any guilty faces and you bet the biggest spender has anything to do with it.

Han looks over his shoulder at you, covering his eyes he says, "I may have broken the rules in the shower," he meekly says.

Surprised, you spit out, "You did what?"

Han can't be doing another rule break with anyone else, you know that for sure and that leaves with one possibility. You cover your eyes this time as he admits it to everyone.

"I did a little... uh self-gratification," he blurts out at once, aware of how embarrassing it is.

Everyone bursts into laughter at his confession as he hides his head in your neck. You can't do much about it since he didn't tell you about it

"Han, your act of self-gratification has cost the group $4,000."

YOU: I'm actually quite offended. Did he not want my help?

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idesofrevolution · 5 months

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Never Sleep with Your Phone On

Throughout recorded history, humans have been terrified of the dark. They created stories of sordid creatures of the night that would creep out from beneath your bed and drag you to some subterranean lair to languish in your final moments; or slither out of your mirror if you left it uncovered when your lights were extinguished to steal your soul from your snoring lips. The tales and cryptids across all cultures were all effective in terrifying their communities once the sun set on the horizon. Though that is not necessarily to say that every tale was crafted from pure imagination.

When technology bloomed, humans believed that the horrifying superstitions of yore were long behind them. They had evolved past the primitive fears of what lurks in the shadows, where in reality they had become complacent, arrogant, and lulled. Certainly some of the eldritch creatures had subsided, as all creatures do eventually. Though for every dead legend, a new myth sprouts, and each of those grew and evolved right there along with us. Which, of course, brings us to Asher.

Asher West was, by all accounts, a fairly normal guy. Graduated from high school, going straight into college on a modest academic scholarship. He played frisbee golf with his friends on the weekends, studied hard from 9 to 5, and was seldom seen without a cup of Starbucks in the mornings. He had a sizeable social media following, as was expected for someone with a traditionally handsome visage and adequately charismatic personality. Every day he'd happily post a quick selfie, posting for his thousands of admirers a run of the mill shirtless pic, often without so much as a filter. It'd almost become muscle memory for him: tap the camera icon, snap the pic, post with some benign emojis as the caption, and boom. 900 likes as the day meandered on. Did it provide him with a momentary burst of endorphins? Yes. Was it satisfying? Somewhat, at least he thought so. Years of his staggeringly average life had been all but usurped by this second life online, where he was glamorous, exciting, and adored.

It was so much easier to live in that fantasyland than to truly be present in the real world around him. He, as many of us are, was living his life as someone else- and a life that spectacled easily caught attention. It was easy to come across him in the sea of countless names and faces. It was easy to stumble upon that pretty face. It was easy find, attracting more than just starry eyed fans. Skulking in the void between lines of 1 and 0, buried deep in the infinite cosmic vacuum of the world electric and technological, another pair of eyes would befall him.

It had slinked into his vast sphere rather quickly, and it had begun to watch. Watching each and every 'tasteful' selfie, every vapid thought that he'd post, and every like and pin he'd make, it watched him with empty, expressionless black eyes from within a fragment of his phone's memory. It studied him, curious at first. Things of its nature were always curious, always inclined to watch and analyze and replicate. Even as he slept, his phone siphoning it's charge from it's cable, it would read. The more it saw, the more it had learned about Asher. In fact, it knew more of Asher than perhaps he himself was aware of, if not able to admit.

It had seen those intimate moments he'd taken careful measure to hide from the vast majority of those watching eyes. Second accounts under pseudonyms, gave way to countless of hidden alternate lives he lived: Tumblr blogs dedicated to bad-boy thrist traps and queer erotica, Twitter accounts cataloguing pictures and videos of his closest kept kinks, a well used and well loved Chaturbate account with his face tastefully cropped out of frame... all these lives immortalized in the endless archives of the internet. And after all it's patient watching, all the hours of analyzing, all the months of consuming his information, it had grown an attachment.

Asher had come home late one night. Not unusual for him, as the occasional party wouldn't derail his real life ambitions. After a few libations, and no small amount of cannabis, he'd made his way back home to his small apartment above the corner store. Just as he'd done numerous times before, he stripped himself of his shirt, pulling his camera from his jeans pocket, and snapped a slightly inebriated picture of himself. It'd be enough to boost his ego the next morning, enough to power through the long haul of his draining daily agenda.

SNAP. The flash of the camera went off, and his beloved face was shared for all to see. Though, that night, he mis stepped. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the toke, perhaps he was simply too tired to notice that he'd left the screen on. By the time he'd hit the bed he was out like a rock, collapsed onto the bed and quietly drifting to sleep. There on the brightly lit screen, in the darkness of the unlit bedroom, it saw its opportunity.

From it's perch on the nightstand, the phone began to spark. Small sparks at first, a quick fizzle and quiet pop. Then more: louder, brighter, faster. It began to rumble against the wooden tabletop, sizzling and sparkling as it danced before the screen went black and dead. Slowly, electric crackling gave way to a bubbling sludge. The glass subtly started wave and bellow, as if it were liquified, not taking long to begin to spill over the edges of it's metal frame. The black sludge fell like oil onto the hardwood floors, collecting in a growing, bubbling pool.

From the primordial ooze burst forth a long, slender arm; it's taloned fingers scraping as it braced itself on the ground. A second arm clawed it's way out, and with an echoing slosh, it had begun to pull itself out of the sludge. It's long, emaciated torso and thick muscled legs had slithered out, landing on two massive, clawed feet. It towered above Asher's bed as he slumbered, bent over so as not to hit it's back onto the eight foot ceiling. It stood there, looking at the person it'd observed and studied for so long. The image presented in the world it'd pried himself out of was nothing of what lay before it. From what it had gathered from his more clandestine dealings, it had noted that he was far from the archetypes he'd collected on Asher's behalf.

He did not have the tattoos like those he'd pinned on Pinterest. He was not wearing the dark, heavy clothes like those he'd saved on Instagram. He wasn't well endowed like the video's he'd favorited on X-Tube. He didn't give off the aura of some rebellious casanova like the stories he'd reblogged on Tumblr. To a creature of symmetry and consistency, this was an error to be corrected; a dichotomy requiring integration.

It crouched down above his drooling maw, gently caressing his head to face it's clenching claw. The talons pressed ever so tenderly past his lips and over his tongue, becoming the very black ooze it had crawled out of once more. It flooded down his throat as it's second arm made it's way into his mouth, as if it were being sucked into Asher. He was drinking it's essence, it's aqueous body slurping down into his core. It's torso compressed as it wriggled down his gullet, ringing out splashing squelches as Asher gargled it down.

As quickly as it had entered, it's long legs slithered into his mouth, leaving only its large feet thrashing about in the air. Asher's stomach was bubbling and undulating under the sheer pressure from this invasion, growing to a large gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. One loud slurp and a crisp pop, and the feet slipped into him, leaving his writhing body squirming on the bed. It expanded within him, incorporating itself into every fibre of his being. Pressing into his arms, his legs, pushing up his throat until it met the top of his palate. The pressure began to mount, black goo dribbling down the corners of his mouth, until a wet crack sounded in his cavernous head, and it flowed into his skull.

It took mere seconds for it to reach his brain, which it flowed freely into throughout the grooves and nooks. Entirely coated, imbued and inoculated with it, the deed was done. Asher opened his eyes, tiredly sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his phone, tapping it with his finger: 3 AM.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. He could recall moments here and there, though the majority of his 'dream' was a blur. From what he could remember, it was nothing visual he could recollect... but it he could recollect the sensations. Wet, slimy, invasive, and cold- much like he felt drunkenly sleeping in his cold sweat. He brought himself to his feet, dragging his feet on the slippery floorboards to his bathroom.

Flipping the switch, the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life above him, as he turned the nozzle on his shower. Immediately, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In the mirror, Asher finally caught a glimpse of himself: strange black bruises and undulating bumps were scattered across his body. That pristine, smooth skin was now covered in sprawling web-like lesions from head to toe. He had mere moments to process the horror reflected in front of him before an immediate pain in the gut had him doubled over the counter.

His stomach started to bubble and groan, and through the foggy haze of his blurred vision he saw his feet begin to ripple and swell. He could feel the slick sweaty soles slide across the tile floor as they expanded and grew. As they reached a substantial size 13, the swelling crept it's way up his calves and into his thighs. Asher wobbled on his feet, as if they were filled with gelatin beneath his slippery skin while his knees began to buckle. He collapsed into a crouch, the fumes of sweaty footmusk bellowing up to his nostrils as his legs cracked and stretched above. He'd never truly experienced scentplay as he'd so dearly fantasized about throughout countless hours of edging to such content, nor had this funk ever emanated from his own soles. In the moment, he felt something within him prod into his brain. As if poking the individual folds of his cerebrum with thousands of tiny needles, causing cascades of thoughts to enter his mind- all of which telling him to embrace. In his mind's eye, he could see himself burying his face into his sweaty sole, between his long toes, lapping up every droplet of sweat that was spewing from his pores. The thought was buried deep in his subconscious, pried out with expert measure, by something now within him.

Grasping for anything to steady himself on, Asher gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself upright once again and now towering above the countertop. He hung his aching head low, watching with strange newfound fervor as his cock began to feel heavier and heavier. Drool started to drip from the bottom of his lip, landing square onto the lengthening shaft. Like a sandbag, his balls dropped and swelled while he got harder and harder. Another onslaught of pinpricks in his head brought forth another command: stroke.

Steam started build in the bathroom as the hot water continued to fall from the shower, intensifying the scent wafting from now both his feet and his pendulous sac. Each breath of hot, wet musk hit like ecstasy, and with bated breath, he softly grasped ahold of his python and began to pump. Each knead of his engorged member was accompanied by a change. His fingers grew long and sinewy, smooth and slick with precum. His arms remained thin but toned, growing longer and packed with lean muscle. His torso lengthened, topped off with a firm pair of pecs above his sinewy abdomen.

As pressure began to build in his balls, his mind began to feel the needles one last time, imbuing his brain with one last injection of a single trait: pride. He didn't need the approval of anyone else, he was aware of how fucking hot he was. He didn't need to heed the rules that society had straddled him with, he always forged his own path. He had no fears of recompense for his attitude, his ego, his spirit- the world would either stand with him, or he would step on top of them. Either way, what bliss. As the last of his inhibitions and fears had gathered in his groin, he cried out in elation as he erupted. Rope after rope of black sludge shot from his cannon, washing him with a sense of relief he'd never before known. He released his grip on his softening cock, hanging at an obscene eleven inches. He smirked at the sludge coating his mirror and pooling beneath his toes. A sight like that would have shocked and terrified the old Asher, though as he stood before his reflection, devoid of any tension, he relented to the entity within him. It had delivered onto him a new self, a new image, a new viewpoint. As tattoos both vulgar and delicate began to sprawl across his skin, he happily admired his new likeness.

The entity had bestowed a gift to him; throughout the horror, throughout the fear, he was becoming the true Asher that had only ever peeked out from the abyss of his psyche. He leered, bringing his thumb and middle finger together before snapping loudly. From his pores, the black sludge began to spill across his body until he was nearly covered from the neck down in what appeared to be a rubber suit before it began to become a bit more defined. A plain white tee shirt, classically fashioned with a black and white varsity jacket from his college. Skinny, weathered black jeans barely containing his sizeable commando bulge beneath it's thin fabric. On his feet, a pair of white socks and tightly tied high top Chucks, quelling the ripe stink of his soles within the sneaker for some sub to pry off and enjoy.

He grinned, posing and modeling for himself, before he finally turned off the steaming water. After the long, arduous, painful process, the entity had incorporated itself entirely within him- now completely indistinguishable from parasitic to symbiotic. It had rewritten him, completely remade him in the likeness of who he had shown the vast virtual world. There was no cognitive dissonance, there were no lies, there was no deception. All that remained was the Asher he had created in his fantasy, now ready to fuck the real world and all within it.

Thus, as our creature feature comes to an end, I leave you with a modicum of friendly advice. Don't leave your phone on as you slumber, for those that are watching, those that are waiting, those that have been learning are a mere sheet of glass away from finding their way inside. Take my counsel, or ignore it. But do so knowing the outcome, and whether or not you are prepared to weather such a storm.

#body transformation #male transformation #original #transformation #musk #punkification #punk transformation #body possession #body invasion #symbiote #male symbiote #virtual cryptid #virtual symbiote #college

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cambrinkisbae · 16 days

Text

*•♡never be like you ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I wanna hold the hand inside you. I wanna take the breath that's true"

word count - 3.4k

themes :

-fluff

-comfort

-toxic rls

warnings :

-arguing

-mentions to abuse

-explicit language

-iowa winning

A/N - did I get you guys. y'all really thought I would wait any longer to post this....

"can we please not do this ash."

i practically pleaded for my boyfriend to not argue with me before a big performance.

it was the day I had been waiting for since I was ever even notified that there would be a uconn game against iowa. I couldn't be dealing with relationship issues right before.

i attempted slipping on my skirt in the bathroom while my boyfriends voice was ringing in my ear no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I hate arguments. especially when they are stupid and have no point in even happening.

"no we are doing this now I don't care! you need to tell me the truth before you leave." Asher growled from outside the bathroom door. part of me wanted to swing the door open and break his nose but I knew that I didn't have time for that. so I gently but swiftly opened the door and forced my eyes into his with probably the most 'i'm not fucking around right now' look I'd ever given him. which is shocking with all of the arguments we've gotten into.

"Asher just fucking stop! I wasn't anywhere, I was literally sitting on the bench waiting for katie to pick me up! why is that so hard for you to comprehend." I pull my face away from his and before I could close the door and continue getting ready I whisper under my breath "its like you want me to cheat on you." the door was about to latch onto the door frame when his pale and veiny hand gripped onto the wooden edge. "what the fuck did you just say?" shit.

he then swung the door open with a force I've never seen before and a wave of fear flushed through my head. there were already tears welling up in my eyes from the yelling and now this just made them fall down my face. inside I was screaming incoherently at his face, slamming the door on his fingers and bashing his head around the room.

this has happened too many times. where we argue and I end up bruised or crying and I have to walk to Natalie's place and cry even more but into her arms instead. there's been too many times where Asher gets away with shit that no other man could get away with. and too many fucking times have I stayed.

his hand was peeled away from the edge of the door and I swear there was hot lava falling out from his eyes instead of guilt tripping tears. "why do you do this to me y/n? it hurts." he dramatically let his hand fall into his palms as more tears fell from his clearly angered eyes. most times I would let myself feel guilty and sorry for him as if I was the one that did the hurting. but this time I was done. nothing was officially over but the moment definitely was. he's going to have to find a way to win my attention back this time.

i tightened my pony tail and grabbed my cheer bag before walking out of our apartment, slamming the door behind me. it was so early in the morning that the sun was only rising as I walked out the door. I'm almost positive that everyone else on the team was asleep so I had to walk to practice. I was only a couple steps into my long walk when a car pulled up in front of me. well not in front but beside me. I continued walking until a window was rolled down and I heard a familiar voice call out.

"yo are you good?"

i was not. I had tears streaming down my face and I probably looked like I was just thrown in a pit of piranhas, but I cant say that.

"huh?" I turn my head to the side to see a white BMW pulled over. the voice I had heard earlier had a very memorable accent in it. Nika Muhl. 5'10 point guard. pretty hair. pretty eyes. just pretty.

"are you okay?" another voice reached out from the drivers seat of the car. Paige Bueckers of course. I finally looked down from my own height and saw a the brunette looking up at me with kinda eyes. her head was slightly tilted to the side while she waited for me to answer her question. "oh. uh." I waited a moment.

just before this I was telling myself that I wasn't going to put up with asher's bullshit anymore. that included hiding what was going on. Asher put me through shit. I mean he curb stomped my head on a pile of shit and dragged my face through it with his bare hands and never felt any regret.

"n-no not really." yeah I did that. fuck you Asher. the feeling of just admitting that I wasn't made the rest of my tears started to drain back into my eye sockets. I could see it in Nika's eyes that she felt bad even if she was smiling and laughing. she popped open the car door and tapped her lap. "well c'mon." she swayed her head, gesturing for me to literally crawl over her lap and get into the backseat, as there isn't a back door. I didn't want to be rude so I sighed and crawling over Nika's lap and into the backseat. I was hovering over her long enough to smell the beachy sunscreen smelling perfume she had on. her hands grazed my thigh that was exposed after my skirt had started to hang down from my position. thank God the cheer uniforms had shorts under the skirts because when I was almost in the back seat next to Ice Brady and KK Arnold, my skirt lifted up right in Nika's face. I almost fell face first into the backseat before I felt Nika's hands grip onto my waist to support me until I was sitting down. I let out a sharp and quick sigh while fixing my hair and and un-ruffling my skirt, I looked into the driver seat to see Paige holding back tears of laughter. I could practically see how red Nika was from the back of the head rest she had her hair pressed against.

i didn't expect the car ride to be as comforting as it was. the entire drive was basically just the girls either singing or asking me questions about cheer. it was all fine before Nika decided to speak up about why I was sobbing on the sidewalk.

"so what was going on with you earlier? before we very obviously saved your ass." I couldn't help but laugh at her remark but quickly got more serious when Paige turned down the music so everyone could hear me. I felt like I was put on a stage with a microphone in a pretty pink dress waiting to win Miss America with everyone's eyes on me while they waited for me to answer.

"oh it was nothing just stuff about my boyfriend...." I tried to shake off the question even though a part of me wanted to scream how much I hated him. I trailed off and glanced to the side to find an unconvinced KK staring at me. KK is funny, I always see her jumping around after a win and shes always filled with energy.

I shrugged and threw my head back before actually giving in. "fine. he's like, really shitty honestly. I want to break up but I can't." the car was silent for a couple seconds while I patiently waited for someone to speak. "what way of shitty? like wants to break up constantly but wont or like- another way of shitty" Paige asked without making any eye contact.

another way for sure. every other way that you could think of Paige.

"guilt tripping manipulative way I guess?" I said, my voice slightly cracking. Nika clicked her tongue as she reached around her seat and looked back at you. "you know you don't have to stay. I know its hard to not stay but you aren't obligated to stay." thank you. that the only thing I was needing to hear in the past year I had been with Asher. I know I'm not obligated to stay with him but Jesus it feels like it. "thanks." the car ride was silent for a couple more minutes before Paige pulled into the driveway of my cheer practice building.

I was just about to get out of the car before realizing that ice was in front of the door I should've been getting out of. I had to crawl over Nika's lap again. I tossed my duffel bag into her lap and its like she could read my brain when she opened her door and gently set the bag out side. but this time she put down her car seat so that there was a (mainly) flat surface for me to crawl over. instead of crawling, I lifted my feet over Nika's body first and then slid myself over her. my ass gently bumps against her lap, almost sending a loud gasp from my lips. there her hands were again. I thought everything was going by quickly but she still had enough time to wrap her fingers around my waist and lifted me from the back seat out the door.

it was honestly hard for me to speak after having to be that close to a practical stranger in the span of 20 minutes but I tried my best.

"thank you guys for the ride. good luck on your game!" as I was waving goodbye while walking down the sidewalk towards the door of the building, Nika yelled out.

"y/n? I'll see you there right?"

oh my fuck she wants to see me at the game. she actually WANTS me to be there.

all I could manage to do without folding over and passing out of the concrete was throw a thumbs up from behind me and continue walking. the moment I stepped or slid out of that car, all the thoughts came back, rushing through my head. how the fuck was I supposed to focus on cheer when my relationship was on the brink of ending. I felt tears well up in my eyes just thinking about it. obviously I wanted things to end but its been a year and a couple months. I don't know how I was going to just break up and be fine. when I swung open the doors to my cheer studio I saw coach and couple other girls sitting down, tying their shoes and fixing each other's hair. coach waved at me once I got through the door. I made my way over to the other girls and gave them each a hug with a very fake warm smile plastered on my face.

"hiii, are you okay you look like you've been crying?" Taylor spoke in a soft, caring mom kind of tone. why is everybody so worried about if I was crying or not. its not that big of a deal just let me cry. I nodded aggressively "mhm. yeah I'm good." the two girls, Taylor and Caydence, looked at each other and they obviously could see through me. I held back even more tears when they shrugged their shoulder continued talking, I knew they didn't believe me but they didn't push an answer out of me like Nika and Paige.

a part of me has always been interested in basketball but the other part kept telling me that I was talented enough or masculine enough. Nika was always an inspiration to me even before I started cheering for UConn. sometimes after practice, as long as there is no performances and I'm not being held back by my coach, I like to go to the public gym and practice basketball by myself. every time I do, I always wish that there was someone there to practice with me. that is part of the reason I went on to cheer for UConn basketball.

i was still stretching when some more girls off the team walked through the door. makeup done, lashes curled ready to go. I still sat in the corner with a couple mascara streaks running down my face. sadly, there weren't any wipes anywhere in the studio so I had to sit with dried cracky mascara on my face instead of my lashes. I stood up after stretching and actually set my bag and water bottle down at some benches before going up to my best friend, Farah, and squeezing her tightly. she had just walked through the door holding a bag with her cheer supplies and another that had a bow tied around it. it wasn't too big but definitely noticeable. my eyes were immediately drawn to it but I waited for her to bring it up after we finished hugging.

"don't act like you aren't wondering what's in here." she shook the yellow back in front of me, letting me take it out of her hands. I scrimmaged through it and found a piece of paper in the bottom. it looked blank until I flipped it over.

mother fucking Farah.

"YOU GOT ME TICKETS TO OLIVIA RODRIGO? WHAT THE FUCK?" I squealed loud enough for the entire team and coach to hear. all eyes were on me but I didn't care. there was literally no reason for Farah to do this at all. shes just a really fucking nice person. she bent over, holding her stomach with laughter pouring out of her mouth. I felt all sorts of feelings rushing through me. confusion, happiness, more confusion, a little bit of sadness because there was only one ticket at the bottom of the bag.

that when everything died down. I realized that she only got one? no way.

"wait did you-" I began to question but Farah stopped me by shoving her finger over my lips.

"nope." she pulled out her hand from her bag and there were two other tickets. why two? why two. two. fuck.

"for Asher!" she held onto my wrists more excited than she was walking inside of the studio. that giddy smile on her face fell quickly. there is no way I'm bringing Asher with to a concert that he wouldn't even give a shit about. all he'd care about is getting in my pants afterwards because my feet will hurt too much to walk away and say no. I pulled myself towards Farah's ear and whispered softly "Asher cannot come with. I'm planning on breaking up with him."

Farah's eyes widened once I pulled my mouth away from her ear. all she did was nod and dropped my hands back to my side. we walked over to the bench and continued waiting for the rest of the team to show up.

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

practice went smooth. now its about to start. UConn and Iowa. fuck I'm nervous. I've been a UConn fan for years and this game is one of the things I've always wanted to see in person. they start introducing players while the cheer squad was doing our main routine to the rhythm of a random Taylor swift song. I think it's I knew you were trouble. ironic. the one thing I was not allowed myself to think of was Asher. if I wanted to think about him I would just trick myself into thinking about Nika. wait that came out wrong. anyways. I was just let down on the floor after doing a thigh stand and the team continued dancing until it was finally tip off. I scurried off the court with the rest of my team and sat to the side while a couple girls above me kept moving around with pom poms. we got the ball first and stayed in the lead for a while.

as much as I was pretending to focus on the shots all the players were making, I couldn't peel my eyes away from Nika. she was on Caitlin Clark's ass. not even letting her shoot a three pointer. shes doing so good. she had her hands surrounding the ball, barely letting Clark shoot at all. I admire her for her defensive skills. I believe her aggression really helps with that. shes passionate. she obviously wants to win but on court it looks like shes playing with her life on the line. but she does it with ease. the one thing I kept forgetting was that this could be her last college game. ever. no one knows where shell go after UConn. lots of people are saying overseas and I think that would be the death of me. I watched every move she made. not in a stalker way but in an invested in her game way. the way her hair swayed back and forth while she shuffled around Caitlin. the way she already had a couple balls of sweat falling off of her forehead. I would be lying to myself if I didn't think she looked really hot right now.

and I'm up again. Caydence was holding onto my hips before she tossed me in the air, I landed on her and angels palms before flipping off and landing feet flat on the floor. still holding a pretty fake smile on my lips. once it was someone else's turn to do a crazy flip, I took the chance and looked back at the bench, watching as Nika took multiple sips out of a Gatorade water bottle. her hand rested on Paige shoulder while she shot something that probably motivational and worded beautiful to Paige's ear.

the game was going smooth until the 4th quarter. I could feel my blood boiling while watching the timer tick lower and lower without our score going higher. this cant be happening. 3.9 seconds on the clock. I could practically feel the vibrations of every UConn fan tapping their feet waiting for someone to shoot a three pointer and give us the win. but no. a foul was called on Aaliyah. I don't think it was a foul but what do I know.

as much as I was desperate for us to win, I knew we wouldn't be taking home the win this time. 4.6 seconds. now Paige. what is it with these bullshit calls.

i never liked Iowa. in my opinion, Clark is good at basketball but can be conceited and over hyped. of course I didn't want anyone to come at me with that when Iowa "wins the natty" so i'll have to keep that in my head for now.

i started calming down, trying to accept the fact that there wasn't a point going on but they from the far side of the court I saw Caitlin Clark. the basketball player dubbed as the goat and a women's basketball savior, bounce a basketball off of her so called friend? fuck that shit. I almost stood up and sprinted across the court. me and Paige may not be close but I cant take shit like that. Farah rested her hand on my thigh, telling me to not do anything. because its "out of my control"

it could be in mine. just saying.

and just like that, number 20 gets the ball, throws it in the air, and declares the win for Iowa. I could physically feel my face getting hotter with each tear I saw fall from Nika's eyes. Iowa doesn't deserve this. they have everything. and UConn gave up everything. I couldn't stop myself from crying too. I shoved my face in my hands trying to dry the tears that were slowly ruining my eye makeup/ I feel fucking terrible. how could UConn give so much for this and barely get anything back. just the noise of all the Iowa fans cheering and laughing and the sight of them smiling made me sick. I wont even hide it. I was jealous. jealous that they had such dick riding refs.

who said that.

i wanted, so badly, to stand up and wrap my arms around Nika and Paige and Aaliyah and all the others to just give them some sort of recognition but we had to go. coach led us through the tunnel and that was it. I sat on a bench in our locker room, debating what to do.

and I figured out what to do. right then and there.

even with my hands on my forehead, crying and stressing, the inside of me was happy because I knew that someone wouldn't be feeling so bad on April 22nd.

#nika muhl #basketball #lesbian #uconn wbb #uconhuskies #paige bueckers #never be like you #Nika muhl x reader #Iowa wbb #nika x reader #cambrinkisbae

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straykidsholicleigh · 1 month

Note

hi hi hi <3

i have an idea about seungmin, soo reader is like very unexperienced and like only had vanilla sex and seungmin wanting her to try rough sex and he's like getting her into it and then she starts to like it so they decide to go a step further, reader is since morning at his house and they fuck and masturbate and everything since they woke up and then in the afternoon he's like fucking her really really rough and overstimulating her and forcing her to cum and she like whines that he should stop because it's too much but he doesn't realize and goes on and she like tries to say that her colour is yellow but seungmin wants her to call him sir and he slaps her clit because she didn't and then she like shakily grabs his arm and breathily says yellow and he like immediately switches up and turns so soft and everything and then he takes care of her and so on

yeah hehe sorry but i hope you like it <33

~kitty💗

yellow

pairing: idol!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut, drabble like thing

warnings: mean seungmin the soft seungmin, degradation, I'm to lazy bye

a/n: sorry this took forever and it's not so long but hope u like it <3

credits: dividers by @cafekitsune ♡

"M-min, please!" You moaned, clutched onto the sheets as he drilled into you. Seungmin had you on the bed, legs pressed up against your chest as he ripped three orgasms out of you already. He pulled you closer to his body as his hips moved at a faster pace, not caring for your protests.

Recently, you and Suengmin had been getting into more rough sex then your usual vanilla. You found it hotter and more enjoyable, even if it means being thrown around like a ragdoll. Ever since you both started, Seungmin seemed to be enjoying it more than you. Overstimulating you to the point you'll start to cry or degrading you and forcing orgasms out of you. You loved it at first but as time went by, you started getting more sore, your body screaming for breaks.

It got more rough. Way rough. It started to hurt all over, your muscles getting pulled and streched into various positions. It got more overwhelming, more intense. You just wanted it to stop, you wanted to be taken care off.

"Seung-" You let out a gasp as Seungmin pushed your legs up further against your chest, his eyes boring into yours as your gulped. "I think you've got the wrong name slut, it's sir." He corrected, his thrusts speeding up. You shook your head, hands trying to push him off. "Seungmin, too much please, yell- AHH!" You screamed as he slapped your clit, growling into your ear. "You'll call me what I say you call-" His sentence got caught in his throat as you shakily grabbed his hands, looking up at him with teary eyes.

"Y-yellow."

In a minute, Suengmin immediately put your legs down, his thrusts slowing down as he gently massaged your legs. He kissed your neck, pulling out as he made his way down to your stomach, peppering soft kisses as he looked up at you lovingly. "I'm sorry my baby, I'll take care of you now," He said, spreading your legs apart gently as he kissed your clit, taking it into his mouth as you moaned, your hands finding his hair as he smiled.

"Sweet baby, it's ok, I'll take good care of you my darling."

IDK WHAT THIS WAS OK AND I'M SORRY IT'S SHORT 😭😭😭😭 HOW DID I FORGET THE WARNINGS 💀

taglist🔖: @bbgnyx @junglyric @hyunevlogs @smuttystraykidsthoughts @yessa-vie @chartrucewhore @changbinswh0re @hyunlar @yaorzu-blog @archeridontfuckingknow @silverstarburst @himynamesjadon @massivesoyeondelusion @itzyeunusiastrie @not-the-herb-sage @ifudontlikegidlefucku @yo-peeps-itzz-asher @hayleyinthebuilding @iwishmiyeonismygf @nathan-idk @soleil-like-the-lillies-or-sun @audreyyy-yyy @leointhehouse @kian-it-means-king @vanillacupcakefrosting @vannipak @tae-ig @joshuanotfound @ivydoesit23 @minjunsworldsposts @fauna-flora11 @ryanerror141 @maya-yay @ophelia-and-yes-i-stan-skz @rockyhedgehog @sleepyleeji @kaiyaba

DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARISE, COPY & REPURPOSE.

#stray kids #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids smut #seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #seungmin hard thoughts #seungmin hard hours #seungmin skz #HES SO 😍😍

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

Text

✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 | hey baby au ♔

summary: anna takes asher to the first game of the season

warnings: none, at least i think so

notes: part of the 'hey baby' series. welcome back everyone, sorry i haven't done this series, i didn't know what to write (please send asks and thoughts). hope you guys enjoy this and yeah. add yourself to the taglist ➵ taglist!

series masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Nico groaned from the extra weight on his bed and turned over.

“Asher.” Nico’s accent came through and the boy giggled, “Uncle Nico! It’s time to get up. It’s your first game today.”

“Yes, I know, meine liebe. But that means I need my sleep.”

“Uncle Nico what does ‘min- mina- lib-lirba’ mean.”

Nico sits up and scoots back so his back is flush agains the headboard and moves his nephew into his lap, “It’s meine liebe, schatz, and it means ‘my love’. And before you ask, schatz means hon.”

Asher nods excitedly, thoroughly entranced with his family’s native language. Nico continues to speak and tell Asher different German words when Anna knocks on his door, “Ash, what did I tell you last night about waking your uncle up?”

“Not to do it.”

“It’s alright, schatz. No biggie.”

“Mommy! Did you know that sc-schatz means ‘hon’?”

Anna shakes her head, “No, I did not know that, my love. Now how about we make some breakfast.”

Asher nodded his head once more and raced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, “I’m sorry about him waking you up, Neeks. It’s been a long week.”

Nico gets up and throws one of his shirts on before going over to his sister, “I promise you, it’s okay. I can only imagine how draining it is, You’re doing great.” He kisses her on the forehead and she smiles walking away to make some food.

✧༺✎༻∞

Asher could not contain his excitement. Anna was lucky that she even got him to go down for a nap earlier right before the game. He made Anna get to the Prudential Center before the doors were even open, having Nico go and get them.

Asher excitedly clambered down from his mom’s grasp and went to grip his uncle’s outstretched hand. Anna followed behind the two, looking around at the arena along checking her phone whenever they stopped so Asher could ask questions. When the clubhouse came into view, Asher ran to the door and tried to open it, “Woah woah woah, there kumpel.”

“I wanna see everybody!” Asher bounced on his feet, extremely tempted to start running around the hallways.

“One moment, Ash.” Nico knocked on the door making sure it was decent before tkaing his nephew into the crowded room.

“Hi everyone!”

“Hi Asher.” Everyone let out their greetings and Asher went around saying hi to everyone.

“Hi Uncle Jesp. Hi Uncle Gravy. Hi Uncle Dougie. Hi Uncle Cloudy. Hi Uncle Jonas. Hi Uncle Tater Tot. Hi Uncle Dawson. Hi Uncle Bernier. Hi Jack! Mommy this is my new friend Jack!”

Anna looked up from her phone and in between her son and Jack, “I see honey. Go ahead and ask him, if you want.”

He nodded, “Jack, can you guess my five favorite things?” Asher loved to have people guess his favorite things. Nobody knew why he did, yet it was always funny how mad he got if someone got it wrong.

“I’m gonna say dinosaurs, airplanes, rainbows, and chicken nuggets.” Asher nodded his head as Jack spoke looking happy that he was gonna get them all right, “And the New York Rangers.”

Asher gasped in offense, “No! Why would I like the Rangers, Jack?” Jack shrugged, “I’m just joking, little man. You’re favorite team is obviously the Devils.”

He nodded in approval and walked back over to his mom, “Bye everyone. Good luck!”

Everyone waved at the little boy as he and Anna walked out of the locker room. She took him to their seats, right near the glass per his request. They waited until warmups, Asher making Anna take pictures of him and the rink with his jersey on as people piled into The Rock. The boy made friends with the poeple who sat around him, a nice young couple, a family with two kids, and a group teenage boys, who he was the biggest fan of.

The boys played rock, paper, scissors with him along with allowing him to play on their phones. When warmups started. Asher was standing and banging on the glass trying to get one of his uncles’ attention. When Ryan came over he started chanting, “Uncle Gravy! Uncle Gravy! Uncle Gravy!” IN reutnr, Ryan threw him a puck and he squealed.

The people beside them laughed at the boy’s antics, yet that wasn’t the last that they would hear from the boy. Whenever the Devils would score, he would chant their scorers name and then those who got the assist. Whenever the Blackhawks scored, he would boo saying something about how it wasn’t Bernier’s fault. And when the Devils got into the penalty box Asher would look towards his mom and “whisper”, “Mommy, Uncle …, did something bad.” When the Blackhawks got a penalty he screamed “Sentence to life” which Anna has no clue where he learned it from but had a sneaking suspicion.

When Jack got the OT winner Asher was beyond happy, screaming, “Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!”

Anna took him to see the boys after the game and even allowed them to take the two out to dinner to celebrate the first game, and win, of the season.

✧༺✎༻∞

anna.hischier

liked by nicohischier, dougieham, taliaforester, and 4,673 others

anna.hischier Asher's (and the devils) first game of the season. congratulations on the win boys. Ashy even got a puck from Uncle Gravy

tagged nicohischier, dougieham, ryangraves27

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nicohischier I think he should come to all of our games

⤷ anna.hichier @/nicohischier haha you wish, neeks, not happening

⤷ ryangraves27 @/anna.hischier I agree with cap

dougieham Thanks for bringing him, Anns. I swear he's our good luck charm

⤷ anna.hischier @/dougieham I'm glad we got to come! We'll see you guys in a month!

taliaforester he's so adorable!!! Love his Hischier jersey

jackhughes followed you

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #sunnyluneheybaby #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jh86 #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x sister!reader #jack hughes x hischier!reader #hischier!reader #sister!reader #nj devils #devils #hockey #nhl

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notmyneighbor · 11 days

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

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libraryofgage · 2 months

Text

Addams Family B-Side (5)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Steve meets the other CC boys in this one, and they all realize just how perfect the two are for each other hfjdks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Steve realizes something very important about Eddie over the next few days of school: he's a coward. Not that Steve minds, of course. In fact, he likes that; it means he gets to have more fun teasing Eddie to his limit and watching him get flustered.

He has to find Eddie to do that, though, and he starts with the Hellfire Club room (an English classroom that the teacher lets them borrow during lunch). Without knocking, he walks right in and looks over the three boys huddled together with monster figurines placed between them.

The boys look up at Steve, and the four of them begin a minute-long staring match before Steve finally smiles at them. "Gareth, Jeff, Asher," he says, pointing at each boy in turn. "Nice to meet you. Where's Eddie?"

"Who's asking?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowed as he looks over Steve in his sweater-vest and chinos.

"Steve Harrington."

They recognize his name, if their expressions are anything to go by, and before Steve can ask again where Eddie is, Jeff stands up and crosses his arms. "Why do you wanna know where Eddie is?" he asks.

"Because I want to talk to him."

"What about?" Asher asks, leaning around Jeff to level a similar glare at Steve.

"Our project."

"Let's cut the crap, Harrington," Gareth says, moving to stand next to Jeff. "What are you trying to pull here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone like...you isn't interested in Eddie unless you want something," Asher says, looking Steve up and down once more for emphasis.

Oh. They think he has bad intentions. Steve can't help a slight smile, glad Eddie has good friends. "I do want something," Steve says, nodding once as pride and vindication flash in the others' eyes. "I want to chain Eddie to my bed and never let him leave until he's so utterly enthralled by me that he'd never think of looking away even if I did unchain him."

"Wh....what?" Jeff asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Steve nods once and sighs regretfully. "Unfortunately, Mother would never let me because his disappearance would raise too many questions," he admits, pouting slightly as he looks up at the boys, "So, I have to get his attention in other ways."

"Like...leaving gifts?" Asher asks.

"Exactly," Steve says, smiling brightly. "It's as close to proper courting as I can get."

"Okay, you're weird," Jeff decides.

"What do you even like about him?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowing slightly now that he's over his surprise.

"His conviction. And Eddie is so cute when he's flustered or jealous. And he gets along so well with Nox. He didn't scream when he met my father, and he seems perfectly happy stabbing Pubert's kidneys, too. I think he's got such Addams potential, I can hardly control the urge to slip him a little belladonna or raspberry to get him all breathless and gasping."

"Dude, do you wanna kiss him or kill him?!" Asher asks.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly at the question with such an obvious answer. "Well, murder attempts are only appropriate after marriage, don't you think? Nothing says I love you like a post-nuptials bomb or a toaster in the bath."

"Oh," Jeff says faintly, "you do wanna kill him."

No, they still don't get it. Steve's frown deepens, trying to figure out how to explain things properly. "Even if Eddie did die, I wouldn't let him stay dead," Steve explains, "I would get him back. We have an understanding with Death. I want to make Eddie's wildest nightmares come true and keep him company in his dreams. I want us to bury ourselves alive in each other's arms so we can pass out breathing the same air. I want to dance a Mamushka for him. I want Eddie to feel accepted and support his deadliest ambitions until he feels absolutely smothered and helpless to get away."

A few moments of silence pass. Steve waits patiently, smiling at them as they process his words. "I've got it," Jeff finally says, "he's clinically insane."

"How'd you know?"

"You know what?" Gareth asks, looking to Steve, "I think you and Eddie might be perfect for each other, maybe just leave us out of whatever weird flirting thing you've got going on here."

"I need to find Eddie to do that."

"He's in the loft in the black box," Asher says, "That's where he goes to, uh, think."

"Oh, does he have buyers today?"

"No, he goes there to actually think, too," Gareth explains.

Steve smiles brightly and nods. "Thanks! I'm glad Eddie has such good friends. I think we'll get along, too," he says.

"Yeah, if you don't kill us first," Gareth mutters.

"I wouldn't! Not until we were friends ourselves, at least."

With that, Steve turns on his heel and waves as he leaves the classroom, heading straight for the black box with a plan already forming.

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

Eddie grimaces as he hears someone climbing the loft stairs. He throws an arm over his eyes and soon realizes that only makes the image of Steve leaning close and looking up at him even harder to ignore. With a huff, Eddie squeezes his eyes harder as he calls out, "I'm not selling today!"

The steps pause, and Eddie thinks the person is going to leave only for them to continue again. He frowns and drops his arm in time to see Steve's head poking around the railing. His face is a little blotchy, his eyes are slightly red, and his voice is rough like he's been crying when he says, "I'm not here to buy."

What else is Eddie supposed to think when Steve looks like this?

He jerks up, leaning against the arm of the prop couch with wide eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asks.

Steve sniffs and looks away, still hesitating at the top of the stairs. "No," he says, his voice closer to normal as he takes a deep breath and marches over to the couch. He stares at Eddie for a moment before sitting on the other end. "I've done something wrong, haven't I?" he asks.

"What? No!" Eddie says, jerking forward and stopping himself before he can actually touch Steve's shoulder. He clears his throat and forces his hand to drop. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been avoiding me," Steve says, his tone resigned as he sighs. He glances at Eddie, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away. "I guess I can be overwhelming, huh? I'll stop now. With the gifts and all. Just pretend it never happened. You can even keep Nox."

Eddie feels the entire world lurch beneath him at Steve's words. Yeah, he's been avoiding Steve, but only because he felt at risk of confessing undying love in the middle of the crowded hallway if he so much as met Steve's eyes. Not to mention how Steve's voice as he offered to contribute more to their project keeps echoing in Eddie's head, making him think of things that definitely aren't school appropriate.

But it backfired. It backfired so so bad. How could Steve not realize that Eddie wants to be more overwhelmed, actually? Like, please keep overwhelming him until he dies, thank you.

Without thinking, he pushes himself into Steve's space, hesitating a moment before throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders as the smell of cookies and cream washes over him. "You definitely didn't overwhelm me, sweetheart," he says, the name just slipping out.

Based on the way Steve's eyes widen, he doesn't take it back. "Then, why were you avoiding me?" Steve asks.

"I, uh...I just...," Eddie looks away, frowning as he tries to come up with an answer that doesn't involve him confessing to Steve on a couch at least three different couples have fucked on.

"Is it because you don't like me? You could just say that, Eddie," Steve says, his shoulders slumping as he leans out of Eddie's space.

Oh fuck. Eddie scrambles, his brain reaching for anything to say that will fix this. Finally, he blurts out, "I like you too much. I like you so much I want to smother you until you can't breathe." Steve blinks, and Eddie feels the world fall out from under him. Well, he's confessed on the couch. Shit. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat and pulls away, an anxious laugh bubbling from him.

And then Steve smiles, robbing Eddie of his laughter. His face is no longer splotchy, his eyes are no longer red, and Eddie feels like he's fallen into a trap that couldn't be more obvious. "Did...did you just..."

Before he can get the rest out, Steve leans closer until his lips are brushing over Eddie's earlobe. "I like you, too," he whispers, the words ghosting over Eddie's skin and sending a shudder down his spine. With that, Steve pulls back and stands from the couch, walking over to the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks, leaning so far forwards that he falls off the couch and lands on his ass on the floor.

Steve looks back at him and smiles fondly, the curve of his lips making Eddie's hands curl into fists so he doesn't reach out to drag his thumb across them. "I was thinking of skipping the rest of the day to see a movie," he says. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie scrambles to his feet faster than he thought possible, hurrying after Steve as he starts down the stairs.

-------

"I just don't get it!" Steve says, frowning as he paces across the room. His mother is stretched out on a chaise lounge, idly flipping through a VINTAGE MACABRE magazine Morticia lent her. "I mean, I took him to a movie, it was plenty dark, I leaned in and whispered to him the whole time and did that thing you taught me with dragging my finger up his arm, and nothing!"

"He's just a tough nut to crack," Debbie says, her voice reassuring as she flips a page.

Steve turns on his heel to face her, his frown deepening. "What am I doing wrong?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end as sheer frustration overwhelms him. He's given Eddie gifts, he's dressed provocatively, he's made it so clear that he wants to be with Eddie, but nothing has happened. "Can't I just...ask him out myself?"

That makes Debbie pause. She looks up, closes her magazine, and sits up on the lounge, gesturing for Steve to join her. He carefully sits next to her, sighing when Debbie pulled him into a hug. "You're doing nothing wrong, dear," she says, her fingers running through his hair. "You're just impatient. It's only your first hunt."

"My only hunt," Steve mumbles, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I don't want anyone else."

"You should enjoy it more, then," Debbie says, gently tugging on a few strands of his hair. "Don't get so caught up in your end goal. The longer the hunt takes, the more you'll savor your victory. Besides, he'll just be more passionate when he finally breaks."

"Well," Steve says, "Eddie is cute when he's flustered. And when he's jealous. He has great potential, by the way, I mean, he really wants to kill Pubert, I think."

"I'm sure it's nothing Pubert doesn't deserve," Debbie says lightly. "Anyway, I think you're doing just fine, Steve. From what you've told me, Eddie isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Should I try harder, though?"

Debbie thinks for a moment, humming softly as she considers the question. "How about this," she says, perking up some as the idea comes to her, "Invite Eddie to dinner on Friday. I'll get a look at him myself, and if he still hasn't cracked by the end of the night, you can crank things up a notch."

Steve slowly nods, turning the suggestion over in his head. He wanted Eddie to meet his mother anyway, especially since he already met Fester. This would also be another opportunity to spend more time with Eddie alone. In Steve's room. With the door closed.

And maybe something will finally happen.

"Okay," Steve says, "I'll invite him."

-----

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #steve deserves good parents actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #debbie jellinsky #addams family crossover #my writing

199 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Hers*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Mine*

Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has made you a deal.

Two for the price of one. He'll share you with Asher. For one night. And one night only.

And all you have to do? Be good and take it.

Word Count: 9.6k (...don't ask)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Easy, mama. Breathe. That’s it, that’s my girl. Relax for me, okay? Relax.”

Forcing a shaky breath through quivering lips, you do your best to oblige Harry’s request, allowing your muscles to uncoil as you settle before him.

“Good,” he hums, large palm smoothing across your hip. “Don’t want it to hurt, my love. Need you nice and loose for me.”

“I know,” you say, lashes fluttering shut. “I know, m’sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry, honey,” he reminds you, although there’s a hint of reprimand. “Just have to be relaxed.”

You nod again and unclench your fists from around the blanket. He’s doing his best to help you along, making sure to keep his touch light and comforting. And it’s something you thoroughly appreciate as he gingerly circles the tip of the plug around your hole.

“Talk to me,” he suddenly demands as he pulls the item away. “Tell me what you’re looking forward to about this weekend.”

He’s trying to distract you, and you smile as you glance toward the pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m excited to be with you,” you tell him honestly. “Both of you, but…especially you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you share before.”

“And you won’t again,” he snorts under his breath before you feel his puckered lips meet your ass cheek. It’s a quick peck, meant to encourage you, and your grin grows. “Lucky I’m even considering it this time.”

You turn to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Why are you?”

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand. “Because I can tell it’s something you want. And I want to give you everything you ever want. Everything you deserve.”

Your heart jumps. “You think I deserve Asher?”

You smirk to show you’re teasing, and he chuckles to himself as he gently guides your thighs further apart.

“I think you deserve the best,” Harry replies cooly. “Maybe that’s Asher, maybe it’s not. That’s why I want to be there. To find out.”

You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “Do you trust him?”

He looks up.

“I trust you,” he says softly. “I trust that if this is something you want…then you’ll enjoy it. And I trust that if at any point it’s not…you’ll tell me.”

“I will,” you agree quickly. “You know I will. But I don’t want you to do this just because of me. Not if it’s not something you actually want.”

“I want what you want,” he repeats, a bit firmer. “This time, that’s Asher. I’ve seen the way you are with him. And I’ve seen the way he is with you. The only thing I expect of him is that he takes care of you. Which he does. And as long as he continues to do so…I’ll continue to let him keep his heart inside of his body.”

You snort and glance back down at the mattress, readjusting your position. “I think you just like knowing how scared he is.”

You don’t have to see Harry to know he’s grinning. “It’s fun to watch him sweat.”

“You’re a horrible friend.”

“I’m not his friend. I’m his boss.”

“Well…you’re a horrible boss, then.”

“Considering all I’ve allowed him to see and do, I’d say I’m pretty generous.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to.”

“He did,” Harry says quickly. Confidently. “Believe me, honey. He wanted to. He told me.”

“He told you and you let him live? I’m shocked,” you tease, feigning a surprised gasp.

However, this earns you a gentle but loud smack to the ass as you chuckle.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Yes, I let him live. Because I knew he wasn’t a threat.”

“No?”

“No.” He squeezes your hip, calling your attention back as you look over your shoulder.

Your stomach flips when you see the somber expression on his face.

“You love me,” he says. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement. “He will never change that.”

“No,” you echo, and your answer overwhelms you. “No, never.”

He reaches around to take hold of your chin and give it a squeeze. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I want to do this with you—with him—because it’ll make you happy. Because you deserve to be taken care of. And I know he’ll do it right.”

With that, he drags the tip of the plug down to the arousal already collecting between your thighs, effortlessly lubricating the small object as the question is put to bed.

You reel, gasping through a slack jaw as you steady yourself on your hands and knees.

“Remember what I said,” he reminds you, patting your hip softly. “Gotta relax for me.”

You nod quickly, silently commanding your body to comply, to unwind, to loosen.

And then…he dips down.

Spit dribbles from his lips, landing between your cheeks as you mewl and wiggle closer to the strange sensation.

He makes a noise—either of approval or disappointment, you aren’t sure—before his finger is diving through the pool of saliva and slipping inside.

He’s already been stretching you for the past few minutes, attempting to make this experience a bit more pleasant.

And you’re more than thankful for that now, lost in the feeling of your muscles being coaxed into submission, the feeling of your walls being pushed apart, the feeling of him.

His digit alone is such a fantastically full feeling, you know a cock will send you on a one-way ride to heaven.

“There she is,” he hums, seemingly proud of the way you’ve begun to unwind. “Feels good, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathe, practically pushing back into him. “Fuck—”

“Been a while, I know,” he remarks before he retracts his hand and brings the plug back. “Proud of you, mama.”

Your cheeks warm from the praise before allowing your body to fall quiet. Limbs going utterly still as you await the feeling of the toy, eyes falling down to the dark duvet beneath you.

There’s not much resistance, and you can’t feel too surprised. In fact, it’s quite the subtle but enjoyable feeling. Made even more pleasurable by the way Harry speaks to you.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he whispers, making sure to keep a steady pace. “Oh, honey. Look so pretty right now. Wish you could see how well your sweet little hole stretches for me.”

You bite back a moan. Clenching certainly won’t help, and you almost wonder if he’s trying to be lewd on purpose, just to test you.

Once it’s seated snugly within your ass, Harry hums again and presses his lips to the base of your spine. “There you go. How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you whisper, allowing for a moment to indulge in the sensation. “Full.”

“Yeah? Good,” he repeats, taking a handful of hip in each hand before pulling you back just to watch your cheeks spread. “Fucking hell, mama. Don’t know if I can wait till this evening.”

You smirk as you settle onto your heels, lacing your fingers through his. “Then don’t. Call him over now.”

“Wish I could,” he sighs as he walks around the bed to face you. “But I need to swing by the warehouse, and I need you somewhere safe.”

“And why again am I not safe here?”

“Told you,” he says, caressing your cheek with his palm before running a thumb down your lip. “This location could be compromised if something goes wrong. S’better to have you in a safe house while we have the meeting. And once it’s all over, we can come home.”

Home. A singular word filled with a lifetime of memories. You love the way he says it. Love the tenacious way he speaks about the shared space you both belong in. The place you yearn to come back to.

You press your mouth against his finger, kissing him gently.

He smiles.

“Okay,” you agree. “As long as you’re not gone long.”

“Try not to be.”

“Promise?”

He frowns but there’s a hint of playful amusement within the firm expression. “You know how I feel about promises.”

“I know,” you reply, sneaking your hand around his wrist to keep him close. “But I need you to promise me anyway.”

He sighs. “Honey…”

“I need to hear you say it,” you insist softly. “I need to know you’ll come back to me.”

Now he understands, and his eyes fill with a desperate longing. “Always,” he nearly growls, using both palms to take hold of your face and bring you to him. “Fucking always, mama. Always come back to you.”

You smile as your nose brushes against his. “Promise?”

He exhales a deep breath, as if you’ve stolen the air right out of his lungs. “I promise.”

You kiss him. And you don’t let him go for quite some time, thankful to have him in this moment…and all the rest.

“But you have to promise me something, too,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Yeah?”

He nods before that devious grin finds its way back. “Promise me…you won’t tell Asher about this little surprise until tonight,” he says, reaching down to smack his hand against your ass. “Think he deserves a little treat.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you agree. “I promise,” you vow before the sound of the door opening echoes throughout the apartment.

Asher announces his arrival as Harry helps you to your feet, making sure to keep you steady as you adjust to the newly acquired object.

“Get dressed,” he instructs softly before releasing you to walk toward the door. “He’s gonna take you to the safe house, and then I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” you reply, equally as quiet. “Har?”

He stops just before he’s completely disappeared into the hallway. “Hm?”

“I love you.”

He smiles, and it makes your heart sing.

“I love you, honey,” he calls back. “Now be good for me.”

You grin. “Yes, daddy.”

And he laughs. In that beautiful, symphonic way. It almost makes your chest ache as you watch him slip into the living room to debrief his right-hand man while you’re left to put your shorts back on.

Once you’re ready, you join the boys by the door, catching the tail end of their hushed conversation.

“—until tomorrow,” Harry is murmuring. “Unless we draw him out.”

“We will,” Asher replies, nodding once. “Matthews is a fucking idiot. He thinks he’s got a shot at infiltrating our system, he’s not gonna pass that up.”

“No,” Harry agrees. “Especially not after Sean—"

The muted discussion comes to an abrupt end when Harry’s eye catches you sneaking through the living room.

“Hi, sugar,” he calls, a bit louder than necessary, almost as if alerting Asher of your presence, too.

Asher turns, and when he sees you…he smiles.

“Hi,” you say back, nodding at the second-in-command.

“You ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to bring, but—”

“Asher’s got it,” Harry answers simply, shooting you a reassuring grin. “Don’t need to bring anything but that cute little ass.”

The teasing remark is a double-edged sword, and you and Harry exchange a smirk as your skin warms and Asher’s brow raises.

However, he doesn’t question it. “In that case…are you ready?”

You nod again. “I think. How far is it?”

“Couple hours,” Harry replies. “Just outside the city.”

“Is Paul coming?”

“No.”

Your brow raises. “Okay…why?”

There’s a beat as Harry reaches into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a match. “We’re not compromising your location,” he says as he places the filter between his lips and strikes the light. “S’better if fewer people know.”

“So, just you and Asher?”

“Mhm.” He inhales deeply before plucking the object between two fingers and pulling it free. “You’ll be safer that way.”

And despite how methodical he makes the whole affair sound, you know this is something he’s actively fighting himself on.

He prioritizes you above all else, even when that means sending you two hours away so he can conduct a meeting with someone on the black market.

But he hates it. You know he hates it. He absolutely cannot stand being away from you, especially in moments like this.

And he doesn’t want you to know just how weak you make him.

Fighting a gentle smirk, you stride toward him and snatch the cigarette from his grasp.

He huffs as you smash the ashes against the wall, effectively putting out the light before tossing it into the trash can.

“What have I told you about this?” you remind him, tone playful with just a hint of admonishment.

He sighs, glancing down at the lost nicotine with a mournful frown. “Well, what else do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you…to kiss me,” you whisper as he drags his eyes back to you.

It doesn’t take much more for him to slip his fingers around the back of your neck and tug you to him, his mouth instantly colliding with yours.

It doesn’t matter that he’d already kissed you a mere ten minutes ago.

Because this kiss—and all of his kisses—are like snowflakes. Unique, and special, and one of a kind.

It makes your stomach flip, and your head grow fuzzy, and your ears ring.

Because it’s never just a kiss.

It’s an unspoken vow of love and loyalty.

“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that you imagine only you can hear.

You nod quickly as you press your lips into his bottom one. “I love you,” you repeat. “Don’t be stupid.”

He grins as he releases you. “Never.”

With that, you follow Asher out of the apartment, leaving Harry to finish a few things before heading to the warehouse.

However, instead of Asher’s familiar car, you’re brought to a stop in front of a rather intimidating looking motorcycle.

“And what…is this?” you ask as he grabs a helmet off the handle.

He chuckles while outstretching it toward you. “What’s it look like, sweetheart?”

“You want to take this?” you nearly stammer, eyeing the dark black death machine. “What was wrong with your car?”

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Not nearly as fun, now, is it?”

Your response is a flat expression, and he laughs again.

“There’s a higher chance of somebody recognizing my car,” he explains as he moves to swing his leg over the bike. “But they won’t recognize this.”

It’s an adequate justification you suppose. And you aren’t opposed to riding one. You and Harry used to ride together all the time back when you first met.

But never when you had a plug in.

Swallowing your nerves, you slip the helmet over your head as Asher starts the engine, his observant eyes flicking across the dash.

Straddling onto the back of the seat behind him, you watch while he revs the throttle, and props his foot up.

Then, he glances toward his shoulder. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You swallow, arms slipping around his dark black t-shirt. “Where’s your helmet?”

He smirks. “Only have the one. But I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help the disapproving frown that forms. “Ash—”

“Don’t worry,” he insists, chuckling as he returns his attention forward. “Just hold on, yeah?”

With that, the bike jolts forward, and you cement yourself to his back as he swings a right and leads you both out of the parking lot.

He’s on the highway in twenty seconds flat, swaying from side to side as he slips between the cars. It’s one effortless, fluid motion that makes your heart drop to your stomach, but more than that…it’s exhilarating.

In fact, you don’t even have time to be anxious when each bump you hit and turn you make stimulates the small object beneath you.

And you’re trying not to let it affect you. Trying so hard to keep your focus on the two-hour ride you have ahead of you.

But then the tires will roll over a small rock, and your eyes will roll back in your head.

Your fingers dig into the fabric on Asher’s chest as you squeeze for dear life. And he glances back from time to time, just to make sure you’re all right.

But you’re not all right. And you won’t be until you take this damn thing out.

“You okay?” he yells once you’ve left the city.

You nod. “Yeah,” you call back, although your boa constrictor-like grip suggests otherwise. “Just peachy.”

You catch his smile before he gets off the exit and begins down a seemingly abandoned back road.

There’s still ninety minutes to go, so you will yourself to relax. To focus on anything else besides the throbbing between your legs. Or the position of your clit against the seat. Or the way your chest is pressed to Asher’s back.

But it seems as though the entire universe is working against you in this moment, and despite your best efforts, you find that you’re losing the game.

And when the bike rounds a particularly sharp corner, it all comes to a hilt.

A rather airy moan slips free as you scratch your nails down his chest, and you catch the way he sneaks a look back at you.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again, seemingly unaware of the nature behind your noise.

However, speaking will only make things worse, so you nod mutely and pull your lip between your teeth.

This answer satiates him for a while longer before it happens again, and your whimpers become harder to hide.

He doesn’t question you this time around, but a quick glance over his profile proves that he’s beginning to understand why these noises are different.

And so familiar.

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask you to explain. That he doesn’t directly call out your subtle grinding or the desperate whines that dance through the wind and find him.

Instead, he carries on with the ride as though he hasn’t noticed, and this alone gives you the strength to keep your impending orgasm at bay.

After all, Harry would be quite disappointed to find out he’d missed such a sight.

And you don’t imagine starting off the evening with Harry’s disapproval will work in your favor.

The next hour feels like the slow crawl of death. The tortuous journey nearly dragging you to the finish line as Asher finally arrives at the gated building.

You just about moan with relief when he punches in the code, pulls into the parking lot, and brings the motorbike to a stop.

And the moment the engine is killed, you have to bite back a whine, thankful for the reprieve from the vibrations against your cunt.

Asher helps you stand to your feet before slipping the helmet off your head and placing it back on the handle.

You notice he’s smiling in that charming, boyish way. A look that you’re more than familiar with, and it instantly calms your remaining nerves as he leads you inside.

He spends the first few minutes surveying the premises. Checking each closet, door, and hallway for any security risks or planted bugs. He then radios Paul and instructs him to confirm to Harry that the location is secure.

Finally, once Asher is satisfied, he joins you in the living room, and returns his gun to his belt.

“How you feelin’?” he asks, perching on the edge of the seat just beside you.

You swallow thickly and squeeze your thighs a bit tighter together. “Hm? Oh, good. Yeah. Good. Better. Now that we’re…on the ground again.”

He exhales a gentle laugh, and you feel your cheeks fill with heat. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. It was…fun.”

His brow jumps up. “Yeah?”

Shit. You glance back down at your lap and nod once. “Mhm.”

Once again, he finds amusement through your timid behavior and lack of eye contact. But you can’t explain why, and you can’t exactly fight it. So, you surrender to the docile demeanor, keeping your focus on your cuticles as you wait for Harry to join you.

“Hey, Ash?” you venture after a moment, breaking the comfortable quiet.

His head turns to you.

“Are you…nervous? About tonight?” you begin hesitantly, letting yourself steal a glimpse of his quizzical expression. “I mean…is this something you really want to do? Or is Harry manhandling you into it?”

He laughs, and the warm sound echoes around the room. “Believe me, sweetheart. I am more than okay with it.”

You shift in your spot on the sofa, angling your body to fully face him. “Okay, but…are you sure? Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says. He won’t kill you if you say no.”

He grins so big you can see his teeth. “That’s not why I agreed. I agreed because he was right. It’s my job to take care of you.”

You sigh, features playfully unamused. “I think this goes well beyond the specifications of your job description.”

“Maybe. But you’re his girl. And I’d do anything for either of you.”

“Even this?”

“Even this.”

“And it’s not…weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You hesitate. “No…I’ve known you forever. I feel safe with you.”

“Good.” He seems genuinely pleased with this. “This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is about you. About both of you. Harry likes an audience and I’m happy to give him one.”

You suppose this is true. You’ve always known this about your boyfriend and truth be told, you can’t imagine a better audience than Asher.

You spend the next half hour or so exchanging stories about the aforementioned man. The different moods he has, the different coping methods he’s developed, and even a few of his more taboo kinks.

Asher remarks on how different Harry was when he was younger, although he’s not surprised that this is the man he became. And he’s happy that you found each other. That you can be Harry’s light.

And you’re happy that Harry can be your darkness.

Not long after, the security system calls a shrill word of warning from its spot on the wall as Asher leaps to his feet and heads for the door.

He sneaks a hand behind his back, fingers curling on the base of the gun still hidden beneath his belt while cautiously approaching. Then, after a quick look over the monitor, he presses a button and instantly steps back to allow the door to swing open.

And in strides Harry.

He looks about the same as when you left him. He’s still donning his dark, matte suit. His hair is still perfectly displaced, and his skin is still thankfully free of any blood.

A good sign.

But everything else is off. His ordinarily indifferent expression has grown hard. Unforgiving. His jaw seems to be clenched so tight, you’re worried he might chip a tooth. The veins in his neck are corded and pushing against his skin, and even from the sofa, you can see there’s an emptiness in his eye.

Asher begins to frown. “What happened?”

Harry’s head shakes as he looks from his right-hand man to you. “Not now,” he says simply, voice dripping with malicious disdain. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”

Instead, he brushes past Asher and makes a beeline for you. And your heart flutters inside your chest as you look up at the tall man coming to a quick stop before you.

He reaches out and snatches your chin in his palm, gently but firmly tugging you upright until he can connect his lips with yours.

This kiss is angry. Vindictive. Filled with remorse and malevolent indignation. It captures each desperate gasp for air, and he swallows your timid compliance mercilessly.

When he feels generous enough to allow you a breath, you’re tucked beneath his arm while he presses his mouth against your temple.

“How was it?” he whispers, and there’s a certain strain to his inquisition that suggests he’s wrestling a larger demon within himself.

You nod gently and let the smell of his familiar cologne envelope you—calm you. “It was good.”

“Yeah?” He looks to Asher. “No problems?”

“Not…exactly,” Asher replies, and you watch the corner of his mouth dance with the idea of smirking.

Harry’s eyebrow raises. “And what does that mean?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a problem,” Asher explains, letting his focus fall to you. “But I think she did have a bit of an interesting ride.”

Harry’s head rolls until he can look down at you. “Oh?”

Your skin warms under the heat of his gaze as you tangle your fingers into his nice shirt. “Couldn’t help it. Felt so good, Har.”

You watch as Harry’s calloused features dissolve into that of smug intrigue. “I bet it did, mama. Does he know why?”

The spotlight swings to Asher, who stands a few feet away, exceedingly curious.

Your lips roll into your mouth as you shake your head.

Harry smiles. “Then why don’t you show him?”

Eager to do just that, you stand back, and lace your fingers around the waistband of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn around, and begin shimmying the denim material down your thighs. Then, you continue to guide the pants down to your ankles, body bending until they reach the floor.

And the moment you’re bent over, you hear Asher curse.

He’s got a direct line of sight to the purple object Harry placed neatly between your ass. And now he understands why the ride on his motorcycle was so…stimulating for you. Why it had you whimpering in his ear as he rocked the bike from side to side while racing through the mountains.

And after you’ve stood back up and turned around, you can see exactly what this revelation does to him.

Harry chuckles underneath his breath as he slips his palm across your bare hip, guiding you back to him. “S’pretty, isn’t it?”

Asher swallows visibly before forcing a curt nod. “Mhm. Very.”

“All nice and stretched for you,” Harry murmurs before grinning down at your hopeful expression. “Aren’t you, honey? You ready to take him?”

You nearly mewl as you nod your enthusiastic agreement, once more grasping onto his shirt as if to plead with him.

“I know,” he coos, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Bet it’s been aching all day, hm? Know you’re so excited.”

And you are. You’ve never felt more infatuated with an idea, and the longer they take to ruin you, the worse the need gets.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers, guiding his thumb toward your lips before slipping it inside your mouth.

You suck, instantly calmed as you sweep your tongue around him, and allow yourself to settle.

“Gotta go over some rules first, yeah?” he says, a bit louder now so you both can hear.

Asher steps closer.

“One…this is about you, mama,” Harry begins, echoing Asher’s earlier sentiments. “We’re not here to hurt you, or punish you, or make you feel unsafe. Is that understood?”

You nod.

He pops his finger free just to take hold of your jaw. “Two…you use your words. Always. You tell us that you’re okay or if you need to stop. If you don’t, I end it.”

You nod again, but he frowns.

“Okay,” you agree verbally, and he hums. “I will.”

Pleased, he carries on. “Three…” He turns to Asher now. “You don’t come inside her. Not her ass. Not her throat. Nothing. You pull out, you get yourself off, and that’s it.”

For some reason, you almost feel embarrassed by the unrelenting and rather strict condition that Harry proposes.

But Asher merely replies, “Understood.”

“And you wear a condom,” Harry adds. “I won’t risk her health because of this. I don’t care if you’re clean, I don’t care if you’re gentle. The only one that gets to feel her is me.”

“Understood.”

Harry’s attention returns to you. “If at any point you want to stop, or you want him gone, or you feel unsure…you fucking tell me. I don’t care if we haven’t come. I don’t care if you think you need to make us happy, make us finish. You tell me. And we’ll talk about it.”

Another resolute rule. “I know, Har. I will. I promise.”

But he’s not finished. “And if you slip into your subspace, then I make the call. If I think you need to be through, then we’re through. And I don’t want any whining or begging. We stop, and that’s that.”

The anticipation just about kills you. Already, your eagerness to be put in these situations lures you into a submissive state of mind. Until everything whittles down to what he’s saying. What he’s offering.

“Okay,” you breathe, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Okay, I swear.”

He studies you for a moment. Perhaps looking for any deception or perhaps he’s deciding if you’re truly hearing him.

But you know he’s just as keen as you are to begin, so he nods his approval before tapping his finger over your mouth once more.

“Good girl,” he hums. “Now…take my rings off for me.”

Your breath hitches as you step closer, instantly taking hold of his wrist to hold his hand where you need it.

And both men watch as you lick your tongue up his palm and right toward his middle digit.

Once you’ve reached the tip, you wrap your lips around him and move down, teeth gently grazing his skin as you go.

You vaguely catch his mumbled curse as you reach the delicate piece of jewelry. But you pay it no mind, instead keeping your focus on swirling your tongue around the ring before latching onto it and sucking it back up.

Once it’s off, he holds out his other hand, and you let it drop.

He smirks. “Good girl. Now the others.”

You move to the next one, repeating the pattern of pulling and guiding, all while making sure to put on a show.

You never once deviate your eyes from his, allowing him to see just how much you enjoy completing such a menial, borderline degrading task.

And you let him know just how much you love when he’s in charge.

It’s rare he offers to let you take the reins. But when he does, it’s still quite fun. After all, he thinks it’s cute when you’re his dominant and you think it’s cute that he pretends you actually are.

Once his fingers are ring free, he slips his palm around the back of your neck and gives it a squeeze. “Bedroom. Now.”

Slightly disappointed to steal yourself from him, you nod and begin for the room just off the hallway.

The boys follow a few feet behind, and you can hear their soft murmurings, but you don’t inquire to know the details. You imagine you’ll find out soon enough.

Once you’ve all gathered around the mattress, Harry takes your hand, brings your knuckles to his lips, and winks.

Your skin warms from the rather innocent display of affection before he’s leading you to the bed. You’re placed between his legs while he settles back against the headboard, and the moment you’re comfortable, his large hands curl around your thighs and drag them apart.

Then, Asher makes himself known, crawling into the newly made space until he can nestle down onto his stomach.

He takes hold of your hips, and with a little help from Harry, manages to lift you up so he can slip a pillow beneath your ass.

You swallow.

“It’s Asher’s turn to taste you,” Harry tells you simply, dipping down until his mouth can dance across your ear. “And I’m gonna be nice…and let him.”

You push yourself into Harry’s chest, head dropping onto his shoulder as you scratch your nails down his arms. You can’t find a response. Don’t really need one. You just need them.

Asher seems encouraged by your willing silence, smiling to himself as he scoots closer and smooths his touch up your legs.

“You ready, sweetheart?” His voice is calm. Reassuring. Familiar and all around safe.

You nod before Harry pinches your thigh and reminds you of his rule. “Yes,” you say aloud. “Yes, I’m ready.”

You feel Harry smirk against your cheek.

With that, Asher dives forward. You weren’t sure how he would feel. You know how his fingers feel. Know his touch, and his voice, and the way he looks at you.

But this…this is new. Wonderful, and soft, and just a bit dangerous.

It’s even a bit messy. How could it not be with the way you’ve been drenched since the moment Harry put the plug in. Truth be told, you’re not sure the difference between your arousal and Asher’s contribution.

Either way, his large tongue licks up your cunt like this is the first drink of water he’s had in years. Like you’re the only remedy to his deprivation. As if he knows this is the first and only time Harry will ever allow him to taste you.

He indulges in you. Nips at you with the fervent desire to feast. To lick through you, to devour you, to savor everything you have to offer.

He’s relentless and yet patient. He takes his time because he knows you have more to give. Knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he is.

“Look at you, mama,” Harry whispers, his strong fingers pressing marks into your tender skin as he keeps you spread. “Fucking love this, don’t you?”

And you do, so you nod zealously, whimpering beneath a pained breath as you squirm between Harry’s legs.

“How does he feel, hm?” he asks next, running his nose along your temple. “S’he making you feel good, honey?”

Your answer comes in the form of a salacious moan, your jaw going slack as you suck in a sharp breath.

“Is that a yes?” Harry pushes. “’Cause if he’s not…I’ll put a fucking bullet through his head.”

And you can feel Asher curse against your pussy before he’s sucking your clit into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as you whine.

The threat lingers for just a moment, met only with more needy whimpers, and lewd licks to your cunt.

You don’t imagine Harry would ever follow through on such an ultimatum, but the look in Asher’s eye almost convinces you otherwise.

Harry’s decisions are rarely ever made through calm, sound logic. More often than not, his choices are the result of a short temper and lack of patience.

And you. Despite what he might tell you, you are the sole reason for his insanity. He will stop at nothing to keep you with him. Keep this little life you two have built.

And if Asher happened to compromise that…

You shiver from the very thought, and from the way your orgasm is beginning to unravel.

“Are you close, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, pulling you a bit wider. “Hm? Does it ache, baby? Need to let go? Need to come?”

You’re trying to nod, trying to breathe, trying to do anything but cry desperately as you writhe between his arms.

He only hums. “No.”

With that, Asher pops his mouth from your clit and straightens up, leaving your swollen, sensitive, and quite red cunt where he found it.

You wilt. Become absolutely unhinged as the loss of pleasure leaves you desolate and depraved.

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, whining as you tug on his wrists.

“No,” he repeats calmly. “No, not gonna waste your first on him. Want your first around us, mama. Gonna be around our cocks, yeah?”

Truthfully, you want nothing else, and you just about purr as you murmur your agreement, and scoot back into his body.

He chuckles when he feels the way you’re trying to pull your legs from beneath his hands, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. And you hope he’ll have pity on you. At least let you find a bit of relief before you begin.

However, he only smacks his large hand down your naked thigh in warning before you feel his mouth press to your cheek.

“No,” he repeats for a third time. “Enough. Told you to behave, didn’t I?”

You fight to catch your breath. “…yes.”

“So behave.”

God, you could just about come from his tone of voice alone. The angry and virile hiss that he only uses when he’s truly lost on you. In the need to own you, claim you, ruin you completely.

He smacks your leg again, albeit gentler this time around. “Up.”

A bit confused, you wearily push yourself onto your knees until you can straighten up and steal a glimpse of the man behind you.

He smirks when sees the confused expression on your face before jutting his chin toward his pants. “Take ‘em off.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. So, while Asher stands from the bed and begins to strip himself of his own clothing, you get to work on Harry.

Shaky, excitable fingers move for the dark waistband around his hips. They pinch the zipper and drag it down before tugging on the material until it can slip down his legs.

You wiggle backward as you guide the pants off before tossing them aside to focus on his briefs.

And you just about drool when you get to see him. His strong, tan thighs. The muscles that quiver and dip as he scoots up. The way you can see the bulge straining against the fabric of his underwear as you greedily move closer.

The moment you make contact with the band, however, Harry snatches hold of your wrists to slow you down.

“Easy, mama,” he instructs softly, thumbs stroking across the joints of your hand. “You’re okay. Not nervous, are you?”

Having mistaken your trembling touch for unease, he attempts to pull you to him.

But you merely smile and shake your head. “No, I promise. I’m excited.”

“Are you sure?” His expression is quizzical. Scrutinizing. Looking to see if he needs to make a call you can’t make for yourself.

But you grin and surge forward, pressing your lips to his as he sighs. “Promise,” you repeat, using this distraction as an opportunity to rip his briefs down.

He hisses when his cocks comes free, forehead finding yours before he looks down to see it.

In fact, you both look, and you feel utterly mesmerized by the way it calls to you. The way it’s hard and ready to be touched.

All for you.

You’d take him into your mouth right now if that’s what he wanted but you know he wants to save each ounce of his pleasure for you.

So, you simply toss the underwear aside, and anxiously stare at his shirt.

This is what you’d like to rid him of next, but without his explicit instruction, you’re forced to wait. To stare at the black fabric until he realizes what it is you want.

And when he does, he smiles.

“All right,” he concedes, sitting up so you can peel it off. “Go ahead.”

You waste no more time, slipping your hands around the hem before pulling it up and over his head.

Now…you see him. All of him. Naked, and sculpted, and so goddamn beautiful. Your own work of art, right here in front of you, ready for the taking.

And you can’t wait to take him.

Now, the attention returns to you. You’re still in the oversized t-shirt you’d slipped on earlier, and while it’s quite comfortable, you know for Harry, this just won’t do.

So, he smooths his palms along your thighs, over your hips, and across your stomach before guiding the shirt up.

You shiver with every brush of his skin against yours, and nearly whine when you feel his thumbs sweep just below the swell of your breasts.

But he doesn’t linger. Because of course he doesn’t. Instead, he plucks the material from your body, and tosses it onto the pile of clothes already gathering on the floor.

The bed dips, reminding you of your guest, and just before you can turn to see him, Harry grasps onto your jaw.

He keeps your focus on him, an emphatic frown sitting comfortably on his mouth. “Promise me.”

You hesitate, momentarily unsure what he means.

Then…you do.

You squeeze his arm between both hands and smile gently. “I promise.”

And you’ve never seen him so happy.

A second body appears behind your own, a subtle warmth radiating from the soft skin as it ghosts across your back.

You quickly relax, already feeling safer from the way you’re sandwiched between the two men.

And Harry is pleased with this, letting his eyes flick to the second-in-command just over your shoulder.

“Take it out,” he instructs before his hands move to your hips. “Gonna need to breathe, mama.”

You nod as Harry pulls you over his lap, settling one knee on either side of his hips until you’re in the position to straddle him.

And Asher shuffles forward as well, kneeling between Harry’s bent legs while Harry scoots a bit further down until more of his back is on the mattress.

Then, you feel a set of fingers dance across your ass and toward the toy so snugly placed within.

Your lashes flutter as Asher uses his other hand to sweep some of your hair over your right shoulder, allowing him a better view of your back.

“There you go,” he whispers encouragingly as he gets a grip on the plug. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You pull in a quick breath. “Yes.”

Harry smiles.

Without another thought, Asher begins to slide the object out of your tighter hole, agonizingly slow as Harry brings you toward his cock and pushes the head against you.

The dual sensation makes you stumble over a frantic gasp as you place your hands on Harry’s chest to brace yourself.

But this is only the beginning as Harry nudges himself through your soaked folds and toward where you drip for him.

Then…he thrusts up.

The moment his cock slips in, Asher completely removes the plug, leaving you empty and yet somehow full.

It’s confusing, and wonderful, and overwhelming. And you can’t seem to focus on any one thing as you hear the toy being tossed onto the mattress before Asher is bringing himself closer.

“Okay, honey, you all right?” Harry grits between clenched teeth, clearly fighting the urge to ram himself into you.

Or perhaps he’s merely fighting the sight of Asher pressing his chest to your shoulder blades.

Either way, you nod. “Yes, m’okay. Ready.”

“That’s our girl,” Harry breathes, and you hear Asher hum behind you. “Gonna have to relax for me, mama. If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna make it.”

You do your best to unclench. To mellow out, slacken the strain on your muscles. And it works, allowing Harry to push in a bit further as your chest just about caves in.

It’s enthralling, but it always is with him. And despite how well your body knows his cock, it continues to stretch for him, beckoning him in as he groans and digs his fingers into your thighs.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the muscles near the edge of his jaw twitching as he surges forward. “S’a good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sugar.”

You mewl as you wiggle over him, needing him to fill you all the way before you’ll feel fully satisfied.

And Asher attempts to help ease your neediness, familiar hands smoothing up your arms and toward your shoulders.

Then, he presses his lips to the side of your throat, and you just about collapse.

However, the moment your eyes roll back, Harry makes one final thrust, completely disappearing inside of you.

He curses as you whimper, a rather pathetic noise scraping from your throat as your head drops forward until your chin meets your chest.

“Fucking hell, mama,” he grunts, nails scratching patterns into your feverish skin. “Feel so good for me, sweet girl. You like sittin’ on my cock? Hm? Like getting to feel me in your tummy?”

But you can’t speak. Can’t. Your entire mouth has gone numb as Harry slowly begins to lift you back up just so he can thrust into you again.

“What a tight little pussy,” he seethes, the sound of him slipping through your arousal echoing throughout the air. “He’s gonna fucking love it, isn’t he? Gonna fucking love to feel you the way I do. Gonna make his fucking day.”

And almost as if to prove Harry’s point, you feel the head of Asher’s cock brush against your lower back until a sharp chill runs down your spine.

A thin layer of sweat has begun to coat your entire body as you impatiently wait for the second-in-command to join in. You know he won’t until Harry deems you ready, but you wish he’d just do it anyway.

It might be fun to see Harry mad.

Already, you feel that familiar tinge of pleasure making a home between your legs. It’s far too easy with the way you were edged earlier but now it just about ruins you.

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, his own chest rising and falling with quick breaths as he sheaths himself inside your cunt. “Okay, Ash, go. Go.”

And before you can even thirstily dwell on the implication of this permission, you feel another hand on your hip as the tip of Asher’s cock sweeps down your ass.

“Easy,” comes the sultry command of the man behind you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, yeah? Just need you to breathe for me.”

“Okay,” you pant, head rolling back until it can settle into his shoulder.

He smiles against your cheek. “Doing so good. M’gonna go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, eyes screwing shut from the lack of stimulation.

You hear him pump himself a time or two, the sound of the lube he must have applied when you were focused on Harry making you whine.

Then, you feel him pull your cheeks apart, and gingerly trail the tip of his cock between.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you, straining to speak through his clenched jaw. “Make daddy happy, honey. Come on.”

So, you do. You suck in a greedy gasp for air, hold it in your lungs, and then release it back into the room.

Pleased, Harry brings one hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between his fingers, and right as he does, you feel Asher slip in.

Your mouth drops open, a frantic moan catching in your throat as you roll forward, nearly collapsing onto Harry’s chest.

But he catches you. They both do, quick to encourage you back upright so Asher can continue, and you feel your mind grow hazy.

“There she is,” Harry whispers, kneading your tit in his palm. “Shit, mama. M’so fucking proud of you. Look so pretty right now, taking him. Does it feel good? You feel okay?”

And you appreciate his concern more than anything in the world, your heart fluttering in your chest as you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper, an airy reply that’s almost lost beneath the sound of Asher’s forced exhale. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Harry releases your chest to press his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking just below your eye. “My precious girl. Knew you’d behave for us. Love getting to see you like this. All fucked out and happy. Are you happy, sugar?”

You are. So utterly and unconditionally happy right now that you feel tears spring to your lash line as you turn to press your mouth into Harry’s palm.

He sighs at the feel of your kiss against his skin, but the tender moment between you is cut short when Asher finally pushes in to the hilt, forcing a surprised whimper.

The overwhelming feel of both men—both cocks—stretching you from the inside out is almost more than you can handle. Because it’s everything. Everywhere. All at once. You know them both in the most intimate of ways, and a mangled cry rips from your tongue as they offer you a moment to adjust.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Asher asks, nudging his nose beneath your jaw. You can hear how hard he’s trying not to groan—can feel the restraint he’s using to keep himself still.

It takes you a minute to find a response, nearly winded from the all-consuming rush of pleasure.

Then, Harry taps your cheek firmly, and moves his hand to your throat. “Speak, mama. You know the rule.”

“I’m…yes,” you huff, attempting to roll your hips. “Yes, please…please, Har. Need…need—”

You watch his eyes flick to Asher before he swallows thickly and nods once. “Okay. All right, we’ve got you.”

And so begins the soft but purposeful thrusts.

They work in tandem, easing out of you slowly just to push back in, basking in the sound of your wetness dripping down their cocks, and the way your body tenses.

They speak in hushed but lustful tones. Their hands never leave you, their focus never leaves you.

Asher commits to kissing along the slope of your shoulder while Harry obligates his attention to running his fingers down your skin.

He scratches, and pulls, and squeezes every inch of your body. And he watches you. Watches you with the kind of adoration that makes the coil nearly snap into a million irremediable pieces.

Suddenly, Harry reaches around your hip to grasp onto Asher’s wrist, and you watch with wide eyes as he brings the right-hand man’s palm to your stomach.

Then…he thrusts up.

“Feel that?” he just about growls, looking between you. “That’s how fucking deep I am. That’s how well she fucking takes me.”

The pressure of their touch against the bulge in your belly has the whines falling miserably from your mouth. A sound that mixes almost wickedly with Asher’s own animalistic grunts as Harry hisses between clenched teeth.

This is what seems to set them off. Their rhythm switches from slow and soft to hard and fast. Needing to feel the way your warmth completely and wholly clenches down.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Asher grumbles, his chest knocking into your back with each snap of his hips. “You feel full? Feel good?”

“Yes,” you cry, nails scratching down Harry’s chest as you move in time with their pattern. “Please…don’t…don’t stop—”

“Never, baby,” Harry bites, driving in so deep, it almost hurts. “Fucking never stop. Give you everything—”

“Shit—”

“Can feel you, baby. Feel your little pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna come? Gonna come for us?”

“Yes…yes, yes—”

“Yeah? Go ahead, mama. Fucking come. Let him feel how fucking good you are to me. Let him know what it’s like to have you coming around his cock—”

You scream something akin to his name when it hits you, eyes rolling so far back, you see stars.

You lose time. Lose everything, nearly lose consciousness. And they don’t stop. They fuck you through every second, and the sounds they make almost send you into a second.

You can’t differentiate between the two, but your ears fill with the melodic sound of whimpers and grunts of appreciation as they fuck themselves deeper. As they hit each spot so perfectly that it almost kills you.

But Harry’s not through. He presses his fingers into your clit and chases after another orgasm. Pinching and pressing and rubbing until you’re attempting to squirm away from him, begging him to stop, to let you breathe.

Your cheeks are stained with ecstatic tears as you come undone for a second time, quicker but still blissfully euphoric.

“Please, please, please,” you hear yourself whine, slumping forward as Asher wraps an arm around your middle to keep you upright. “Please…Har…please. Can’t…can’t…”

“Shh, you’re all right,” comes the distant but gentle sound of Harry’s voice, vaguely keeping you present as your mind attempts to float away. “So fucking proud of you, mama. M’not through with you yet.”

“Please…”

“Easy, honey. It’s okay. Just gonna play with you a little longer. You’ll let Daddy play you with your little clit, yeah?”

You nod mutely, humming to yourself as he pinches the sensitive nerves between the pads of his fingers. “Har…”

“I know,” he coos as Asher releases a deep breath in your ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? All swollen, aren’t you?”

Again, you can do nothing but move your head up and down lazily as you lean back into Asher’s chest.

“Gonna give me one more, baby,” Harry instructs, thrusts faltering the closer he nears his own release. “Just one fucking more, and Daddy will be so proud. Both be so proud of you.”

And that alone is enough to encourage your compliance, forcing the third to hit you fast like a runaway train before you can even see it coming.

You make it about halfway through the glaringly wonderful rush of endorphins when Harry is suddenly straightening up, placing a hand on Asher’s shoulder, and shoving him back.

Asher’s cock slips from your hole as he’s pushed away from you, leaving you to gasp.

“No,” Harry seethes, shooting a malevolent and unyielding look toward his second-in-command. “You’re done. You fucking finish over there.”

You aren’t afforded the chance to understand just what’s occurred before Harry is settling back onto the bed and thrusting his hips upward.

His cock completely disappears inside your pussy, forcing a debauched sound to bleed from your mouth as he twitches and finally releases himself into you.

And it’s exactly like you remember. Warm, and good, and exciting. The look on his face as he fills you. The way his tan skin glistens with a sheen of sweat and the beautiful sounds that slip between his lips.

You’d stay here a lifetime if you could.

Which seems to be his intention because even after he’s finished, he refuses to let you move. Instead wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, his chin meeting the top of your head.

He keeps his cock warm inside you for quite some time. All throughout the sound of Asher pumping himself off until he comes over his hand and stomach.

Minutes pass until the room falls silent. Until you’ve all caught your breath and found your way back to the present.

Eventually, Harry shifts, and you can hear him murmur something to the man behind you.

You don’t catch it through your hazy state of mind, but you feel comforted in hearing the familiar cadence of their voices.

You’re scooped up into a pair of arms and walked into another room. You blink the fog from your eyes as Asher flips on the shower and Harry places you back onto your feet.

You’re kept steady as you’re guided beneath the warm, gentle stream of water and you instantly nuzzle your face in Harry’s chest as he chuckles.

The two men dedicate their time to running some soap down your body, between your legs, along your back, and across your chest.

Harry is gentle when he massages the shampoo into your hair, despite the way you pout as you’re pulled from his body.

But the moment he’s finished, you bury yourself back into his arms, smiling to yourself when you feel his chest vibrate from laughter.

Asher and Harry continue their quiet conversation as they clean themselves. Still, you can’t quite decipher the distinct words or topic of conversation, but do manage to make out one exchange in particular:

“Are you sure?” Asher asks.

“Always,” Harry whispers. “We will always be hers.”

Once thoroughly bathed, they help you step out, and lead you back to the bedroom. Harry is there to put you in clean underwear and one of his shirts while Asher gathers his things and heads back to the living room to keep watch for the night.

“Sleepy girl,” Harry hums as he lays you onto the mattress before slipping in behind you. “M’so fucking proud of you, honey. Thank you for letting us make you feel good.”

And you giggle to yourself, confused as to why Harry would need to thank you for something like that. “Always.”

He chuckles as well.

Sometime in the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep, you feel a particular and familiar chill travel up your cunt and settle in your stomach.

After shaking the sleep from your mind, you push up onto your elbows and glance down.

You see Harry’s tattooed arm peeking out from between the blankets, rolling and flexing in time with the blissfully sweet ministrations between your thighs.

Then, you see Harry.

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer to press his lips to your jaw. “M’sorry, mama. But I need one more. Need your last one to belong to me.”

You smile as you nuzzle into him, nodding quickly in support. “Please, Har…”

“I know,” he replies, trailing his tongue down your neck. “Gonna make it better.”

With that, he takes his hand from your cunt only to wrap his fingers around the fabric of your underwear…and rip.

It snaps from your body as you gasp and instantly wiggly against the mattress, still sensitive from everything else before.

Then…he tosses it toward the shadows in the corner of the room.

Your eyes follow the lace as it’s flung through the air, choking on a whimper when you see a hand quickly outstretch to capture it.

Asher.

He’s sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, smirking at you both as you attempt to work out what you’re seeing. The soft light from the moon outside the window cascades across the side of his face. Just enough for you to make out his intrigued expression.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he calls, and the teasing but always caring sound of his voice makes you sigh contently.

“Hold these for me, yeah?” Harry instructs his partner, who nods and tucks the underwear into his fist.

Then, Harry’s attention returns to you.

“Think you can give me another?” he murmurs, grinning down at you with so much love, it makes your chest ache.

You shiver as the tips of his fingers return to your clit.

“Always.”

God, why do I love them??? Technically this is the end but I will be doing blurbs because I am needy and cannot let them go!!!

Thank you to everyone that's read and been so kind!!! I appreciate you so much!! As does Asher, who would not have had such an important role if it weren't for all of his fans!! 💞💞

Next Part:

~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)

Previous Parts:

~ Mine* (Pt. 1)

~ Ours* (Pt. 2)

~ Yours* (Pt. 3)

~ Theirs* (Pt. 4)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

@vamprry @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles fanfic #fan #fanfic #mafiarry #mafia!harry #harry styles mafia #harry and asher

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spookysteddie · 4 months

Text

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie).

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club.

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you.

You didn’t care.

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation?

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin.

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.”

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win.

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie.

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.”

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same.

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.”

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier.

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.”

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him.

…

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them.

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!”

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.”

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother.

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.”

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-”

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.”

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you.

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?”

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?”

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.”

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?”

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated.

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.”

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.”

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

…

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course.

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory.

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly.

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm.

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles.

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand.

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.”

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.”

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.”

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant.

…

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on.

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice.

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.”

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.”

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic.

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous.

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think.

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.”

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of.

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.”

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works.

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.”

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high.

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!”

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.”

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him.

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music.

“One more question…”

You nod, motioning for him to continue.

“Can I use your moans in a song?”

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?”

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.”

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you.

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.”

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched.

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him.

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you.

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly.

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

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