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artificial-transmutations · 3 months

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ATArena

Alexander's phone dinged with a notification, just as he left the exam. It was a beautiful summer afternoon, and he was still talking with a few other students, so, naturally, he ignored the unexpected noise. Even though Alexander was certainly a digital native, he found it rude to check his phone while in company of others. He didn't particularly enjoy his current company: He found Christopher the guy that was currently bragging about how easy the exam was slightly annoying, but that wasn't a reason not to show good manners.

Only after their ways split, Alexander unlocked his phone and saw the notification: "Your watched App, ATArena, is now available."

ATArena? Alexander didn't remember he had watched an app with that name. Still, the notification seemed genuine and lead him to the app marketplace where he could initiate the download. The description was sparse: "An epic battle with a revolutionary matchmaking algorithm that will extend into real life!"

That sounded like an AR game of some sort. Alexander had enjoyed the big Pokeman Run hype some years ago and certainly didn't mind giving this app a try.

When he opened the app for the first time, it asked him for the usual: His real name as well as his nickname. Alexander put in the same for the latter that he used everywhere: Lex_88. A short busy spinner appeared and finally, a message box greeted him:

"Welcome to ATArena, Lex_88! A suitable opponent has already been found. Connecting now..."

After he tapped "Ok", a chat interface opened:

TopShot joined the game.

TopShot: Hi.

Alexander didn't know how to react exactly. He was socially awkward, but ignoring the unknown other player would be rude. So, he just typed:

Lex_88: Hi.

Before any of them could type anything else, a popup opened:

"Battle available! Tap to play."

Alexander tapped the button and wondered what would happen now. Was this some kind of word puzzle or quiz against each other?

What opened though, was a simple depiction of three six-sided dice. When Alexander tapped them, a roll animation appeared until they settled at 14 eyes in total. Not bad!

"Lex_88 rolled: 14. TopShot rolled: 10. Lex_88 wins!"

The screen changed to a wheel of fortune now, which was already in motion. When it came to a stop, it showed a muscled arm emoji and the sparkling word "Bicep size" appeared on his screen.

Immediately, Alexander felt a weird tingling in his upper arms, accompanied by a tightness in the sleeves of his sweater. He locked his phone and scratched his arms but stopped immediately when his fingers met unexpected resistance. His upper arms seemed to have... swollen? What was happening?

Still on the university campus, Alexander made a dash for the nearest restroom and pulled off his sweater. He could hardly believe his eyes: His biceps had grown *considerably*, straining the seams of the t-shirt he wore underneath. When he moved his arms, the muscles bulged and contracted. It was a surreal feeling for sure. Was that the doing of this game?

Alexander unlocked his phone again saw a new message:

"Challenge! Record a video flexing your guns and upload it to social media!"

When he dismissed the message, he typed a message to his opponent.

Flex_88💪: Holy shit! My arms just grew!

Alexander stopped for a moment. Flex_88💪? That wasn't his nickname. Yet, when he scrolled up, it clearly appeared that way - that was the name saying "Hi." in the message before. It wasn't that far off from his usual nickname, which was... Flex_88💪. What was he even thinking about? That was just his screen name that he used almost everywhere, because of his biceps, obviously. His last message didn't make much sense, though. He added a:

Flex_88💪: I mean, they're pretty big, as always. Never mind!

It didn't feel good to brag, but there didn't seem to be a way to delete the message. But he might as well do the challenge now. It wasn't that unusual for him to post pictures and videos of his arms on social media, so, he recorded a short clip, made sure to crop out his surroundings and his face and sent the video to his LaterGram profile.

Just as he was done, TopShot had answered:

TopShot: Uhm, good for you, dude.

TopShot: Seems like you've won the last game.

Flex_88💪: Yeah, but it was pure luck. I'm sure you're gonna win the next one.

As if on cue, another "Battle available" popup opened. This time, Alexander's roll was pretty bad. The dice showed 2-5-2, bringing him to a meager 9, a bit below the expected value.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 9. TopShot rolled: 9. Tie! Both win!"

Apparently, TopShot wasn't having a very lucky day, either. The wheel turned and showed a drop emoji. Alexander was still thinking about what could be the meaning of the drop, when the word appeared: "Libido".

Libido? So, this was an 18+ game? Still, Alexander felt hot all of a sudden. His cock was stiffing up and he realized that it had been ages since his last jerk-off. Hornyness clouded his mind, when the next popup opened:

"Challenge! Use a pick-up line on someone you fancy."

Alexander was usually way too shy to approach another guy, but in his current situation even thinking about sending someone a pick-up line seemed like a good idea. He could just send that TopShot guy one, he had the advantage that Alexander didn't know him and probably never would meet.

He thought about his options and decided that a classic would be the best choice.

Flex_88💪: You know, my arms aren't the only thing big right now ;-)

It only took a moment for the other player to respond.

SwitchHit: I know what you mean.

SwitchHit sent an image.

Alexander hesitated only a bit before he opened the image. Yep. It was a picture of a tented boxershorts, snapped from a hastily opened pair of pants. Alexander could feel his cock throb. If he wasn't in public... No, he had to restrain himself. Even though he was still horny, which really wasn't unusual for him, he took a breather and tried to fight his boner down. He had just masturbated before he left for class, it was just amazing how needy his cock could be. His phone dinged as he readjusted himself and left the bathroom.

SwitchHit: Looking forward to the next game. I mean it's just dice rolling and stupid challenges, but it's fun.

Even though Alexander agreed, something seemed off. Had SwitchHit changed his screen name? No, didn't seem that way.

"Battle available!"

Alexander immediately rolled his dice and hardly could believe his eyes: three sixes, a solid 18.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 18. SwitchHit rolled: 15. Flex_88💪wins! Critical!"

15 was a pretty good roll, but nothing could beat Alexander's 18. He grinned as the wheel stopped on "Confidence".

"Challenge! Approach a local gym and negotiate a free trial using nothing but your charm and confidence. "

Xander grinned. Yeah, that was an awesome idea. He was originally on his way home, but finally joining a gym was long overdue. Luckily, there was one right on his way. Half an hour later, he had a full two month free trial and also a protein shaker as a gift. It had been easier than Xander had thought.

Suddenly, he remembered the game.

Flex_88💪: Hey SwitchHit, you still there?

SwitchHit: Yeah, sorry, I didn't want to message so much. Sorry!

Xander rolled his eyes. That guy needed to grow some balls. He was just about to reply, when the next battle was available. Xander really had to admit, what SwitchHit said was true: It was kind of fun!

This time, Xander rolled bad: The three dice showed a measly 8 points. Unsurprisingly, SwitchHit won.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 8. SwitchHit rolled: 14. SwitchHit wins!"

Damn, this was the first time Xander lost. The wheel landed on a brain-emoji, and, unsurprisingly, it was labelled with "Smarts".

Xander scratched his head. What did that mean? Would he have some penalty challenge now? He would see soon enough.

"Challenge! Skip reading your usual news or books for the day. Instead, binge-watch a reality TV series."

Xander scratched his head again. Did he really want to do that?

Well, of course he wanted to! That sounded like a fun evening. Why would he read books?! He didn't even own books!

Flex_88💪: Man, those challenges are really ez. I need to watch some TV this evening, not read sum bokshit.

Xander typed the message as he arrived at his apartment. He fixed himself a quick dinner and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV.

SwitchHit: I agree. I have to read some Ovid tonight, which I find rather light literature.

Flex_88💪: Whatev you say, man. Hey, by the way, what's your name?

Flex_88💪: Mine's Xander.

SwitchHit: I don't know, I probably shouldn't share my real name on the internet.

Flex_88💪: Aw, come on. As if I could find out where you live with only your real name.

SwitchHit: ...Right. I'm called Chris.

Flex_88💪: Like Christian? Christopher?

SwitchHit: No, just Chris.

Flex_88💪: K. Hey, that pic was pretty hot back then.

They chatted a bit during the evening and exchanged some more pictures of tented pants. Xander was only half paying attention to the reality show on his screen, as one of his hands was more or less constantly in his pants. Still, it was just friendly teasing, no downright cyber-sex.

Eventually, Xander had finished the season and went to bed. SwitchHit - Chris - had called it a night an hour ago, but he still had to finish the last episodes. Good thing he didn't draw the book shit. That would've taken a week, not an evening.

When Xander woke up the next morning, the next battle was already waiting for him. He rolled the dice as he crawled out of bed, again rolling abyssal. Only six eyes were visible on his dice.

"Flex_88💪 rolled: 6. SwitchHit rolled: 10. SwitchHit wins!"

This time, the wheel landed on "Personality". Weird. That was a pretty vague category.

"Challenge! Show someone their place."

Xander raised his eyebrows. What a weird challenge. Anyway, time to for groceries!"

Xander drove over to the store in his old and cheap car. However, when he arrived, another visitor to the gym took the parking spot directly in front of the entrance. What an asshole!

Xander parked and got out of his car, quickly approaching the unsuspecting guy that just stole *his* spot.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing?!"

The man, a young guy with glasses and a bit on the nerdy side, looked up, surprised.

"What's your problem?"

"I'm the problem. Your problem. You just took my parking spot."

"Your spot? Don't be ridiculous."

Xander's hands balled into fists. That guy was really annoying!

"That was my spot, asshole. If you don't get your ass moving, I'll *make* you move."

"Alright, alright, chill down. Geez."

The other guy got in his car and parked in another spot. Xander nodded satisfied. He had shown him. Oh. Right, the challenge.

Entering the building (without moving his car), Xander checked his phone and sent SwitchHit a message:

Tank: Man, people are crazy today. Some asshole took my parking spot and I had to show him.

SwitchHit: Sorry to hear that.

SwitchHit: Did you change your screen name?

Tank: Nope. It's Tank, as it has always been. Because I'm a fricking TANK!

SwitchHit: Yeah. That makes sense.

"Battle available!"

Xander was collecting stuff from the shelves when he rolled the dice in-between. He rolled a solid 14, but Chris beat him by one point.

"Tank rolled: 14. SwitchHit rolled: 15. SwitchHit wins!"

Xander cursed loudly, making a few heads turn in the shop. The wheel turned and finally landed on a heart shape. "Empathy" it read. Another one of those fuzzy words.

"Challenge! Cut ties that hold you back!"

Xander scratched his head. What was that supposed to mean? He really wanted to win this game, so what did he have to do now?

As he thought about this, another message popped up, this time from the chat group with his closest circle of friends, who were planning their next meet-up. If Xander thought about it, he was really annoyed by those guys. They were all nerds and losers who always had shit ideas like board games and stuff. Without a second thought, Xander replied to the group.

Tank: I'm not coming. Those gatherings are a waste of time. Get lost, losers!

With that, he left the group and blocked the numbers of his so called friends. He had better things to do.

"Battle available!"

Like that, for example. Chris, who went by the silly nickname of CuddleBug, was at least a horny bastard like Xander himself. With a tap, he rolled the dice.

"Tank rolled: 12. CuddleBug rolled: 10. Tank wins!"

Oh yeah! The roll wasn't even so great, yet still he won. Xander smiled even broader when the wheel landed on a muscular torso, labelled simply: "Muscles."

In an instant, Xander felt his whole body swell up. No wonder. Axel basically *lived* in the gym. As he looked down, the fabric of his shirt had turned almost transparent with the sudden expansion of his muscles. It wasn't just his torso, of course. Axel didn't skip leg day, so his quads and hamstrings grew to impressive size, too. His shoulders were getting broad and wide, as well, to the point where he had difficulties reaching his back.

"Challenge! Show your gainz, buy a muscle shirt!"

Axel could have slapped his forehead. Why didn't he think of that himself - and sooner? He needed to share that thought.

Tank: Hey Chris, what ya tink? I should get a muscle shirt, huh?

Tank sent an image.

CuddleBug: Omg, yes. That will look awesome. I wish I had muscles like that.

Axel grinned. Right. No wonder that Chris agreed, Axel's muscles were a sight to behold. Good thing he was already in a store. He quickly bought a few muscle shirts, enough to replace his usual wardrobe. After paying for his purchase, Axel put on the new shirt right on the parking lot before squeezing himself into his car.

"Battle available!"

The game was pretty fast-paced. Axel tapped to roll the dice and was pumping his fist, when one after another, all three dice ended up showing a six.

"Tank rolled: 18. CuddleBug rolled: 4. Tank wins! Critical!"

"Ha! Yes!" Axel cheered and the wheel spun until it showed "Dominance".

A surge of excitement and satisfaction rushed through Axel's veins. He felt *good* all of a sudden. And *powerful*.

"Challenge! Assert your dominance! Challenge a gym bro today!"

Axel grinned. Yeah, that was exactly his thing. He needed to get to the gym anyway. That free membership was hard earned. Also, Chri- Kit seemed to like his gains. Time to make some more.

It was still early afternoon, and the gym wasn't packed with visitors yet, when Axel arrived. There were a few regulars, as always. A short dude with a moustache that looked like a wannabe porn star and a big dude with a neckbeard were currently occupying the bench press, while a girl in her 40s did lat pulls.

Confidently and arrogantly, Axel readjusted his half-hard cock and approached the big guy.

"Yo, man. You're pretty buff. But I bet I can still take you easily. Wann wrestle?"

The large dude looked at Axel for a moment. Axel could see a vein on his neck throb.

"You little shit. You think you're better than me, huh? Fine, let's do this."

In the pocket of his gym shorts, Axel could feel his phone vibrate.

"Ha. Lead the way, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

As he followed the big guy to the mats, Axel checked his phone.

"Battle available!"

Great! Before he kicked some ass, he could play some more! While walking, he rolled the dice and scored a 15!

"Tank rolled: 15. CuddleBug rolled: 9. Tank wins!"

He didn't have time to watch the wheel this time, so he didn't notice that it landed on "Stamina." He also didn't see the challenge, which simply read: "Kick some ass!"

The big guy was already waiting for him on the mats, but Axel felt incredibly cocky. This was gonna be easy!

"No rules, no limits, no mercy." Axel said and the other guy nodded.

"That's the way it's gonna be. No mercy, punk."

"Bring it, tubby."

The big guy was the first to charge and he was surprisingly fast for his size. However, his speed and strength were no match for Axel's new found muscles. Even though they wrestled for a few minutes, Axel found himself not even tiring much. Finally, he was able to flip his opponent around and lock him on the ground. He tried to struggle, but Axel held his arms and legs firmly in place.

"Give up, man. You can't win."

The big guy tried to wiggle out of Axel's grip, but to no avail. He could struggle and shout as much as he wanted, but Axel was the one on top.

Finally, the guy gave up and admitted defeat.

"Ha! Loser!" Axel cheered and got up. He had a full boner now, both from the sweaty wrestling as well as from the display of dominance, but he didn't hide it. Instead, he headed to the showers and let Kit know of his triumph on the way.

XxBeastxX: I just *dominated* some fuckin weakass in the gym. Wrestled him down and he was crying and everything.

Kit answered right away.

CuddleBug: You're awesome.

CuddleBug: I wish I could have been in this place.

XxBeastxX: Ha. Course I am.

XxBeastxX: Huh? Whatya mean?

CuddleBug: Nothing. Never mind.

Axel was about to answer, but yet another "Battle available!" message popped up.

This game was seriously addictive! Axel rolled the dice and had a 10, which was decidedly less than what Kit had.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 10. CuddleBug rolled: 11. CuddleBug wins!"

"Damn." Axel said, but the wheel landed on "Generosity." He was almost glad he lost. Otherwise, the challenge would probably have been something like "Donate to the homeless" or some shit. What did the homeless ever do for him?

Instead, the challenge was:

"Challenge! Sell something of sentimental value!"

Huh. Well, Axel didn't really have anything he would consider "sentimental". His old PS2 that he got from his uncle for his 10th birthday was a bit sentimental, but other than that... Oh! His old car would probably qualify.

Axel thought about it. On the one hand, his old car was a piece of shit, and he shouldn't care much about it, but on the other hand... It would be a shame if he would have to say goodbye to his baby. Would it? No, not really. It was a pain to squeeze into it anyway. And if he played his cards right, he would even get some good money for it.

The decision was easy, and after showering, Axel drove to the nearest car dealer. It was a hard bargain, but in the end, he managed to persuade the guy to buy his car. It wasn't a high price, but it was more than what the piece of crap was really worth.

Just as he finished the contract, his phone dinged. It was rude, of course, but he didn't give a flying shit about that and checked his phone. It was from Kit, of course.

TwinkyKit: I just donated some money to the homeless. That felt good!

Axel snorted. Of course, how pathetic.

XxBeastxX: Good. Maybe now they won't be so fucking lazy anymore and work a little.

"Battle available!"

It seemed like the game always interrupted their chats. Well, anyway. He quickly rolled the dice, while the car dealer waited patiently to return his attention to him again. The dice turned out lower than Kit's again and after reading the wheel result and the challenge, Axel looked back up to the car dealer. For a split second, the "Money" challenge was still visible on the screen: "Challenge! Buy a muscle car! You know you want it!"

Damn right he did. Jax had always wanted to have a muscle car. He just never had the money. Bullshit. He never had the balls to take on some debt to buy one.

The car dealer was more than willing to help Jax chose and set up the necessary credit paperwork. He didn't even read this shit and selected a car immediately. A shiny, silver beast with a huge engine. It was a bit pricy, but it was worth it, at least to Jax. After he received the keys, he messaged Kit.

XxBeastxX: While you were busy giving money to some crackheads, I got myself something new. Check this out!

XxBeastxX sent an image.

The first image was the car of course. The second was a dick pic, for good measures. Jax didn't really care that he was still at the car dealer when he lowered his pants for a moment to snap the pic.

TwinkyKit: OMG. You're such a stud.

XxBeastxX: Thanks, Twinky.

XxBeastxX: By the way, show some respect!

He drove back home, feeling great.

At home, the next battle was already available. Jax grinned and rolled the dice. He could hardly believe what he saw: 3 single eyes. He rolled a fucking 3.

"XxBeastxX rolled: 3. TwinkyKit rolled: 3. Tie! Both lose! Critical!"

What a pathetic roll, for both of them!

The wheel landed on "Impulse Control". This was getting interesting. It was true, Jax was notoriously bad at controlling himself. He just bought a new car, on a whim. So whatever challenge was coming his way shouldn't be too hard.

"Challenge! Get that tat!"

Jax didn't think much about it. Sure, why not. He would probably regret it, but that was something future Jax would have to deal with. He started his shiny new car again and drove to a nearby tattoo studio.

When the artist asked what kind of design he wanted, he only thought for a second, before deciding: "A dragon, obviously!"

As the artist started working, he massaged his dick with his other hand, earning him a condescending look from the artist. He couldn't help it though. Kit... Kitty would surely love his new tat.

When he sent a pic later, he was proven right:

TwinkyKit: OMG! That's hot.

TwinkyKit: I wish I had one, too.

TwinkyKit: I mean: Sir.

Jax smiled and was about to type a reply, when another "Battle available!"-message distracted him.

He quickly rolled the dice and grinned at the result: 15! That beat Kittys sorry little ass for sure, and he was right. Kitty had a mere 7 points to show. This time, the wheel landed on "Aggressiveness."

If possible, Jax felt even more powerful and manly. The challenge read "Start a bar fight!" and that was exactly what Jax wanted to do this evening. Well, that or fuck some ass, but really, a good bar fight was probably even better tonight.

He quickly messaged Kitty.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Talk to you tomorrow. Gonna kick some ass now. Think of me when you jerk off tonight, boy!

Kitty responded almost instantly, with a picture of his uncut dick.

TwinkyKit: I will, Sir! Have fun.

Jax drove to the nearest gay bar, a shady joint called "Diesel". The music was loud, and the lights were dim. Jax didn't mind the atmosphere, though, instead, he went straight to the bar and ordered a double shot. He downed the drink and ordered a second. Just as the bartender placed the glass in front of him, he grabbed it and threw the liquor right into the bartender's face.

"The fuck?! What are you doing?!"

"What do you think, asshole?" Jax answered, his voice dangerously calm.

"You can't do this!"

"Yeah, I can. And you're going to shut the fuck up."

With those words, Jax slammed his fist in the bartender's face, who immediately fell to the ground. There had been really no reason for him to punch the bartender, but it had the intended effect: From one moment to the other, there was a barfight in full swing.

Of course, everyone tried to overwhelm Jax, but he fought back with vigor and stamina. Several black eyes and a broken nose on his enemies later, the patrons and the bar's bouncer managed to throw Jax out, but still, Jax had a great time, kicking ass and punching dudes. Before someone could call the cops, Jax went home, happy and content.

When Jax woke up the next morning, he almost didn't notice any bruises anymore. Instead, he grabbed his phone while he was doing his morning piss and checked ATArena. Yep, there was another battle available. Time to see if Kitty was already up.

He rolled the dice and only a minute later, Kitty's results came in. Easy win. Jax had rolled only a ten, but Kitty didn't beat him with his pathetic five. However, Jax laughed out loudly, as he saw the wheel's result: Dick size.

"Challenge! Show your assets!"

*That*, Jax could do. He watched as the cock in his hand grew longer and fatter by the second, instantly forgetting that it had once been smaller. No, Jax always had a big, fat and juicy cock, the biggest, actually. With a few last strokes, Jax sent a pic of his cock, the tip glistening wet.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Check that out. That's what a real cock looks like.

Ass_Crusher🍆 sent an image.

Jax sent several more images of his magnificent rod, both naked and wearing tight underwear. As if there was another kind. For Jax, all underwear was tight.

Finally, Kitty responded.

CrushersToyBoy: Fuck. You're so hot, Sir.

CrushersToyBoy sent an image.

Jax smirked. Kitty's own cock was tiny, especially compared to Jax' equipment. It didn't matter much, though. Kitty didn't need it, he needed to have his ass crushed.

Ass_Crusher🍆: I know, babe. I know. You know what I'll do with it now?

"Battle available!"

God dammit. This was getting annoying.

Jax quickly rolled the dice, scoring the top available score! 18 points! But apparently, Kitty was just as lucky, rolling an 18, too.

"Ass_Crusher🍆 rolled: 18. CrushersToyBoy rolled: 18. Tie! Both win! Critical!"

Jax didn't even need to read the attribute to feel it. It was "Libido, again." His already mostly hard cock surged up, becoming a firm steel pipe in his pre-cum soaked underwear. There were no pants on earth that could hide his constant arousal - on some days, even a firm pair of jeans left nothing to imagination and showed a wet patch where his cock was constantly leaking pre. He was a walking and breathing sex machine and Rex knew it. His name was fitting, too. He was a fucking king among men. And today he was going to breed the fuckable ass of that twink.

Ass_Crusher🍆: Get ready, boy. I'm cumming over and I'm gonna split open that ass of yours.

Rex closed the game and deleted it. There was no point in wasting his time with some stupid mobile game. He got back into his car and revved the engine. Oh yeah. Time to get some ass!

What a great game! I know I wouldn't mind playing if ATArena popped up on my phone, would you?

#male transformation #dumbing down #muscle transformation #mental transformation #corruption

860 notes · View notes

toji-girl · 2 months

Text

watch me | t. fushiguro

synopsis: After a messy breakup, you require a new job which leads you to work for the biggest porn site in the industry but little did you know that it would lead to the one thing you didn't want.

wc: 8.4k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + repost + porn star au + Toji stalks you and is very possessive and in love with you he's sick with it + you x other character + fingering + you get horny a lot + roleplay + spitting + Toji man handles you + consensual recording + praising + unprotected sex + sending nudes to Toji + sexting + phone/video sex + talks about sex work + blowjob + pussy eating + brief pussy job + breeding + lots of kissin' + snow balling + sensual sex + 69 position + hand job + teasing + nipple play + + feedback is appreciated + any missing tag lmk

for kinktober '23 | PLEASE do NOT use coconut oil as lube! this is written for fictitious purposes only!! also pls forgive me because I couldn't find much information on how to become a porn star so I made things up dfhztht

You looked down at the boxes by your feet with a frown while your dad kept pulling them from your trunk with irritated huffs. “He couldn’t even help you? What a real piece of work. I knew that guy was not a good man.” He muttered picking up a bag with a grunt with you not wanting to correct him on the situation, you didn’t want him helping or coming over to your new place even though he offered.

With no choice, you followed after him holding a box to take in your new apartment after moving out and breaking up with Toji, and naturally, your father couldn’t stand to see his daughter so hurt over a man way older than you.

Not only did he break your heart but kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself, and no matter even if you did tell him, it was your decision, he would still blame him, he’s never liked the raven-haired man since you brought him over to dinner three years ago.

There was no way you could sleep in the same bed without Toji. He etched himself deep inside you to the point that there were no takebacks, not that you’d want that anyway. You looked around your new barren living room trying to focus your thoughts on something positive like how should you decorate?

“Will you be okay here by yourself? You weren’t any better off with him, but you know you’re welcome to come back home any time.” Your dad spoke in a soft tone but uttered him with such disgust you could almost taste it in the back of your throat.

You looked over at him with a soft reassuring smile. “Yes Dad, don’t worry and I know but being twenty-seven and having to move back in with your parents is a little embarrassing thanks for the offer though.”

He stayed and helped as long as you allowed before pushing him out of the door telling him that you’ll lock the doors and windows. Two hours later you found yourself alone laying on your bare mattress on your phone scrolling through it, too tired from earlier to move.

Your thumb stopped on a post that should’ve been deleted a long time ago on the account you shared with him, a video of you and Toji in bed naked and sweaty in the prone bone position, the audio was on and you could hear his hips slapping your ass with each harsh thrust.

Instantly you reported the video and debated on texting him feeling an ache grow between your legs, anger bubbling like roiling water in your lower belly as you jabbed at the screen with a finger feeling your head throb with a headache that loomed like a heavy shadow pressing down.

“Hello sweetheart,” his voice came over the other side in a purr when he answered, the video playing in your head while you chewed on your bottom lip as Toji waited for you to respond while he lounged on the couch, his hand stuck down his pants resting against his boxers listening to your rapid breathing, he cleared his throat and getting your attention.

You sighed and sat up putting him on speakerphone to begin making your bed in order to release some sort of tension. “You need to delete that video of us right now, I reported it immediately! We agreed on everything else going on the account but that one! Why now?”

He listened to you talk while spreading his legs wider wishing you were here instead. “I didn’t mean to upload it. Was scrollin’ through my gallery, the video popped up and I couldn’t resist not watching us. Did you watch it? You can’t tell me you don’t miss that.” Toji replied knowing he has you flustered and aroused thinking about him.

Thankfully he couldn’t see you, your legs clenched together to relieve the throbbing that made your pussy weep like a maple tree; sticky and sweet oozing from between your pussylips creating a mess in your panties. “Stop! You’re a pervert, don’t do it again, we’re broken up.” You hissed and hung up with a huff.

Your head rang like a bell causing a migraine to split at the base of your skull, you pushed past the pain and did everything in a haste trying your best not to think about him and his sinful traps to lure you back. It was a very messy breakup, to say the least. He was far too possessive and jealous and he didn't want to let you go so easily.

Some part of you knew he was always going to be the one who you’d forever talk about no matter what even though he acted the way he did but it was a love story that ended early leaving you with no happy ending.

After you trudged through your nightly routine you curled into the middle of the bed listening to your neighbor's thump around next door, the sound only made your head hurt worse until it felt like your skull was going to combust.

Two hours later you managed to fall asleep in a light slumber, your blankets tangled up as you tossed and turned around on the mattress. It’s been two weeks since you’ve slept with Toji and it’s been rough after being with him for so long.

Four years, two of them living together. Now you felt sad and empty trying to cauterize the gaping wound in your heart but knew it was for the best, too much arguing and not enough communication. There were a lot of physical aspects though to the relationship that weren’t so easily forgotten.

Your dreams dipped in and out until you finally fully succumbed to a deep sleep, your brain played the memory of you and him earlier. From the beginning of the day of your first year anniversary all the way to the hotel room when night fell bringing out the predator of Toji who devoured you whole leaving nothing to spit out when he was done with you, that night he took your soul and melded it with his in a way that could never be undone.

A moan slipped free from your lips as it progressed further until your body jerked you awake from a sudden boom on your bedroom wall shaking anything that was on it. You wanted to be mad but also thanked whoever it was that woke you up even though it was very early.

Dreaming about your ex and having a wet dream is not something you want to relive and hauled yourself out of bed to start the day even though it was well before anyone woke up but it gave you time to check things out on your laptop before starting the day.

Immediately you pulled up your email while waiting for a new job to write back when you saw a forwarded message from Toji titled Someone else likes your pretty pussy. With furrowed eyebrows, you opened the email and read it feeling your jaw drop to your chest.

Dear sweetbites21.

We came across a slew of your videos and we have to say we are impressed with the way you look on camera, then it came to our attention that there was a separation. If you're interested we’d love to have you on set, give us a call soon.

It was from the biggest porn website that had the best reputation and content, your eyes followed the words all the way down to Toji’s message with a snort. He was clearly jealous that they just wanted you and not him like some package deal.

You copied and pasted the number down and saved it in your phone intent on calling them later. To pass the time you spent the better part of your day unpacking and cleaning your apartment until everything was done before you rested.

Every part of your body ached and again you found yourself wishing Toji was here to massage your muscles then you remembered the email and quickly grabbed your phone to rid yourself of those thoughts.

When you dialed the number you sat back on the couch and tucked your legs under you waiting for someone to answer feeling your palms sweat. “Hello. This is Yui with Sex Simplified. How may I direct your call?” A voice soft and sweet spoke on the other side when the phone clicked.

“Hi, I just got an email last night about someone…” You broke off feeling a lump form in your throat thinking about Toji knowing he helped get you here, you gave her your name and information along with the username then listened to her type fast and quickly.

You waited a few minutes and looked down at your cushion rubbing along the material with your thumb. “I’m going to transfer you to our manager, have a good day.” Yui then switched the lines making the phone ring again for a minute.

“This is Aina.” It was clearly another female this time, she sounded older and warmer welcoming you. “Yes, hi, I just spoke to Yui. My ex sent me an email you sent to our couple account email.” You told her getting directly to the point.

She hummed softly and turned her computer on typing in the background. “You’re part of sweetbites21, right? I’ve watched a few videos and I really am impressed, you’re perfect for the camera with the way you work your body.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your face flush with warmth at the praise. “Thank you so much, that means a lot and I am yes, we got that name the night for the very first video we uploaded with food play and we left bites all over each other.” The last part wasn’t necessary but just in case you explained it anyway.

Aina snorted a little and finished typing. “Your ex has a monster cock that would get views for sure, but we’re interested in only female leads right now so would you like to set up an interview with us?” She asked leaning back in her seat hoping you’d say yes knowing how much money you would be bringing in and she also knew that their star male case lead would love you.

The way she said monster cock made you burn with a mixture of things, longing to feel him inside you and jealously because she’s seen it, but so have other people and for a long time he was yours and you knew he was madly in love with you and had no eyes for anyone else.

“Sure! I’ve never done anything like this before though.” You replied hesitantly, this was different than just recording you and Toji, this was the big league and you’d be filmed with someone else, not your ex who knows your body inside and out. This would be a huge break for you, however.

“That’s what they always say, and I know you haven’t, just homemade videos with Monster Cock. Next Thursday can you be here around eight pm? We’ll conduct an interview then if everything goes well then you’ll meet our male lead, everyone loves him and you will too.”

You blinked at how sure Aina was sure of herself and found yourself nodding even though she couldn’t see it. “Uh, yeah I assume you’ll send me the location and stuff via email?” You asked feeling your stomach roll and your shoulders hike already even though it was a week away now.

Tuesday evening you found yourself in the aisle of the grocery store under lights that flickered, something that reminded you of a horror movie. Even though you knew it wouldn’t happen you still waited for the zombie apocalypse to start when you heard a throat clear from behind followed by a memorizing voice. “I just need to grab those mini cakes if you don’t mind.”

You turned around and looked at the person - no, it was more like a God. Tall and lanky with snow-white hair that framed a very pretty face with eyes that looked like water from the bluest glaciers, so bright and vibrant which only ended up distracting you from actually moving out of the stranger's way. “S-sorry, I was just lost in thought.” You explained with a sheepish smile.

The man hummed with a knowing smile as he reached out with one long slender arm grabbing two cakes of different flavors, the scent of clean laundry along with the faintest hint of vanilla wafted off him invading your nostrils. He smelled heavenly. Your eyes almost fluttered shut and your mouth began to water at the sight of him and how good he looked in his shirt that molded to him so perfectly and how soft his hair looked even under the lights. You wanted him.

You wondered why you were acting like a dog in heat wanting to all but hump the man's leg knowing who he is or what his name is, you just know that he’s intimidating and you like that. It’s been a month since you’ve been single and felt the touch of a human is what you chalked up the rush of hormones to be, all you wanted was to be loved and caressed again.

He definitely has the fingers and hands for it, lewd thoughts popped into your head of him fingering you in your car before folding you in half. “Do you want a picture or something?” The man teased as he watched you eye fuck him right in the middle of the store like a desperate stay-at-home wife who was bored and lonely at home wanting to be ravaged by someone.

“Sorry.” You stammered and gripped your basket turning on your heel to walk away from him and the strange meeting, the feelings never dissipated even when you got out of the store after buying a few random items in haste before you ran into him again knowing you’d stare at him.

The cool air made your skin break out in a wave of goosebumps as you walked to your car under the dark sky with a heavy sigh. Even with how beautiful it looked outside, the weight of everything has hollowed you out into nothing but a husk of your former self. The blue-eyed man was a loop that played in your head on the drive home followed by Toji who had a sixth sense.

You looked down at your phone seeing his name and number glaring back at you when you pulled into the parking lot weighing your options on what to do, however, curiosity got the best of you. “Hello?” You answered and got out of your car grabbing your bags then made your way upstairs with quickened steps to the front door.

“Heard you got the job working for SS, I’m not surprised. I told you we shoulda sent a video into them when we were together, you’re really going to let some other guy fuck you? I look forward to watching your new videos to see how you fake an orgasm for some cash.” He deadpanned clearly annoyed with the turn of events.

Even though he couldn’t see you, you rolled your eyes and pushed the door open stepping inside to take your shoes off. “What I do is none of your concern anymore so don’t question what I’m doing. Is there anything else you need before I hang up?” You asked with an attitude.

Toji chuckled making you shiver for a different reason now. “Have a good night princess, I’ll see you soon.” He declared giving you a warning before he hung up leaving you stunned as you stared down at your phone frustrated after the conversation. A hot bath was needed to douse this feeling that welled inside your core, a mix of burning rage and a need to be fucked hard.

When you sank into the bubbly water you held your phone scrolling through the videos of you and him, your pussy throbbed desperate to get filled, with a lust-riddled brain full of nothing but wanting to get off you FaceTimed Toji angling the camera to face your soapy tits making sure your nipples were covered.

His face popped up in the small box in the corner confused at first then you watched as his lips pulled back in a grin seeing you naked and wet making you want to lean in and kiss his scar. “That sure didn’t take long. Now look at ya calling me all desperate.” He crooned and followed your hands that moved away from your breasts hearing him grunt seeing your perky nipples.

You should feel embarrassed and you are a little but not enough to stop you as he teased watching feeling his cock throb hot and heavy wanting to feel your soft skin under his hands, knowing how he’d give anything to be there right now. “Make me cum Toji…please, I want to so bad.”

“Touch my pretty pussy for me since I can’t, spread yourself nice and open.” He commanded in a dark growl before cocking his head with a smirk. “Actually, why don’t you be a good girl and rinse off then get into bed so I can see you better?” You listened to him and ended in bed a minute later naked and mostly dried off, patches of water still stuck to the parts you didn’t get.

When you got comfortable you spread your legs and angled your phone between them making sure he got a good view. “Aw look, she’s crying for me, I bet she just wants to be sucked and fucked. Poor thing, now swirl your finger around your clit.” Instantly you parted your pussylips and used your middle finger to rub the swollen bud with a soft whine arching for more.

Your eyes fluttered shut and didn’t get to see Toji pulling his dick free spitting down on his open palm before wrapping his fingers around the base and jerking himself off to you thrusting two digits inside your soaked pussy and moaning his name so prettily and broken. “So wet ‘f me.”

He watched you with low eyes. “I’m coming over, we’ll give our fans one more video. What do you say, princess? Want to sit on my cock?” His question pushed you over the edge thinking about him splitting you open around him, your cunt gushing around your fingers instead.

You pulled your fingers out slowly when you came down a little huffing. “You are not coming over here. I can’t let that happen, this was a private moment between us, don’t ruin it. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but thank you for helping me out. Have a good night.” He chuckled before you hung up and shut your phone off for the night letting sleep take over and giving you a break from the stress even for a brief moment.

Thursday evening two hours before eight you stood in the shower scrubbing each inch of your body unsure what was going to happen, was it going to be an interview before having to show off your skills? Either way, you wanted to be prepared and brushed your teeth once you got out of the tub and dried off to get dressed.

It was a dress that was suggestive but still modest. You’ve seen the casting couch videos before and picked out your outfit based on that, the company didn’t seem like that type though so you also kept it on the classy side. Once you checked everything over you got ready for the car outside. Aina said they’d send someone to come and pick you up at your apartment.

True to their word a very sleek vehicle pulled up and an older gentleman got out to open the back door before he ushered you in then he got back in the driver's side and took off. The drive over to the studio was filled with the soft songs from the radio that kept you company until you arrived, just like when he picked you up he opened the door again, this time helping you out.

Following the directions from the email you read again before getting picked up you walked inside the all-glass building, the windows so dark you couldn’t see the lights on inside which added fuel to the fire you felt growing inside. “Here we go.” You muttered and pushed the doors open to an all-modern waiting room, it was a subtle blend of yellows oranges, and reds.

You didn’t feel as nervous anymore when you greeted the handsome male behind the desk in the middle of the room, he was warm like the room. “Hi, you want to take the elevator up to floor three. Room 204. Have a good evening.” With that, he handed you a key card and sent you on the way down the hall to the set of elevators. You stepped in the first one and went to the third floor.

When you stepped into the hallway it was quiet as you read the door numbers feeling your stomach flip until you reached the correct one and knocked before using the key card to step inside, the same color scheme as downstairs, this time it was a small lounge with low lights and pulsing music, this time you were greeted by a very beautiful woman who wore a black leather corset and thigh-high boots, in her hand she held a whip with the same material as her outfit.

“Hello, sorry you caught me during a shoot, but I’m ready if you are, and it’s finally nice to meet you.” She spoke as she faced you, her hair cascading like a waterfall. This was Aina?

“Yeah, you look….” You trailed off and felt your face flush as you sat on the couch she pointed to with a knowing grin, it threw you off guard a little to be her in her presence, her breasts all but spilled out of the tight top that pushed them together. “It’s nice to meet you too.” You ended up saying not sure what to say as she sat across from you crossing her legs with a laugh.

She sat her whip next to her and leaned back. “So to start off with we do STD screenings on everyone, and at least ask if you can give us your past partners if applicable. I know you were with Monster Cock for a while if I remember correctly? We also have papers for you to fill out and sign if you want us to hire you.” Aina spoke, her cherry-red lips looked glossy.

Anytime she says that you can’t help but feel a stirring between your legs. “I’m fine with that and yeah, I was with him for four years and it was only him.” You replied shifting your weight and looked at her with a soft smile and a nod. She mirrored your smile and grabbed the clipboard with a pen attached to the side of the table that separated you two and handed it over.

You filled in the basic information at first then flipped the page reading the questions about your kinds, hard and soft limits. Aina watched until you were finished thirty minutes later, your wrist ached from writing for so long. “Good girl, you’re the perfect applicant and would fit in well with Gojo.” She said with a grin and put her hand in the air doing a come hither motion.

A second later the door in the corner opened to reveal the man you stared at Tuesday, he looked different in this setting, a predatory smile showing off white pearly teeth. “Hi -” He stopped when he saw you, your eyes wide as sauces as you stared at him again with an open gaping mouth. “You two know each other already?” Aina asked interrupting the staring contest.

“No, we just saw each other the other night for the first time…this is my new coworker?” You asked, your own voice sounded foreign. Talk about a small world, but you didn’t think it could actually be this small. Gojo sat down next to Aina confirming your answer, his long legs spread wide open and instantly you could envision yourself between them, his cock in your mouth.

She smiled and nodded patting his knee. “Yes, and he is going to have to finish the interview, I have to finish something up. I’ll get a hold of you soon, thank you so much for coming out.” Aina told you with a wink before she disappeared through the door Gojo came out of leaving you two alone, the only sound in the room came from the clock in the corner with a plant and a painting.

You shifted again in your seat and looked at him. “So how does this work? I filled the paperwork out and she said we’d be perfect together…” Your voice trailed off as you played with your fingers in your lap feeling naked as he stared at you intently, his head cocked to the side. Those blue eyes of his scanned your entire being from your feet to your eyes with a grin. “You’re hired.”

“Okay, now what?” You asked again feeling your skin heat up as he leaned in, the smell of vanilla whirled around you like a cashmere sweater, after being with Toji you’d think you wouldn’t be so high-strung to be around someone so cocky and carefree but you were. His smile reminded you of someone who won the lottery. “We can get something to eat if you want?”

You didn’t expect him to ask that. “I ate already, thanks though. Can I read up on what you like and stuff before I dip?” His white brows raised at the first part of your sentence before they dipped then furrowed at the end, he nodded anyway then stood up and walked to the door again leaving you alone for a moment to collect your thoughts.

A few minutes later he emerged with a file stuffed with papers that he handed to you once he got close enough. “Aina will get a hold of you for everything else, and if you want you can stay and we can talk instead of reading each other's files, don’t you think in person is better?” He asked sitting back down on the couch manspreading while letting his long arms hang over the couch holding your gaze as you squeezed the papers tightly.

His stare made you want to crawl out of your skin, it was heavy and he was intent on making you squirm a little. “I do yes, I assume I can get a ride back home then?” You countered getting a nod before setting his file back on the coffee table and leaning back to cross your legs.

“What made you want to get into this type of work?” Gojo asked, his interest piqued. A fleeting memory of how it all started flashed behind your eyes when you closed them for a moment, it felt like so long ago when it did and now here you ended up; employed at a very secure job.

You started to undo the straps of your high heels when he leaned in to do it for you instead, his long slender fingers hooked under the thin leather brushing against your skin adding to the raging fire that built between you two. He opened his mouth when your phone rang, piercing the sexual tension like a sharp knife, you jerked back at the sudden sound and snatched it.

Toji’s contact information glowed against the darkened room. A taunting reminder that you couldn’t get any peace with him around, even though you two were broken up. “I’m so sorry, I need to answer or it will not stop ringing.” You told Gojo and picked your phone up to answer it.

“Why not just shut your phone off? It’s not like you have to answer it, mhm?” He questioned pausing your movements to actually hit the green button. It was the truth, that’s all you had to do and ignore him, but why did you want to do the opposite and answer his every beck and call?

You pressed the ignore button and shut your phone off setting it back on the table before you were in Gojo’s lap, each thigh on either side of his straddling him, your arms wrapped around his neck pressing yourself into him, your mouth found his in a deep kiss. He was the first one to part your lips massaging his tongue with yours, his hands traveled down to your ass slowly.

With your dress bunched around your hips Aina stepped inside the room with Toji who looked irritated and a little smug knowing he ruined the moment between you two. “Oh my God! What are you doing here?” You huffed and scrambled off Gojo’s lap and glared at your ex-boyfriend.

“Didn’t I say I’d see you, princess?” He asked with a smirk now as the other two bodies in the room migrated to the door again wanting to give you two alone time after an awkward moment, the room was tense and full of simmering anger as you and Toji looked at each other when the door clicked close. You grabbed your shoes and sat on the couch putting them on ignoring him until he was sitting next to you, his hands on your waist.

Green eyes melted into yours, a silent conversation passing between you two as he fisted the soft fabric of your dress. You wanted to give in to the magnetic pull so bad, let him kiss you, and eventually fuck you on the couch until you’re a screaming mess. “Toji…you just ruined my interview.” You scolded him with a scoff as you pushed him back and pulled away.

“I know, that was the whole point. I don’t know why you keep running when you know I’m going to catch you. Do you think I’m going to let you go so easily, princess, and let you do this? I love you.” He replied with a slight grin as he took hold of your wrist pulling out all the stops, his lips connected to the back of your hand with slow sensual kisses holding your gaze intensely.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away from him and jerked your hand away from his hold. It wasn’t a lie, he does love you, the problem was he loves you too much and it sounds crazy when you don’t want to be with someone like that but it was a pressure you couldn’t handle anymore, all the questions and the smothering was the final straw.

Toji let his hand rest on the small of your back waiting for a response. “You need to go, I’m serious. I can’t believe you followed me here! This is getting ridiculous I hope you know that.” You muttered and turned your head to feel his fingers curl around your jaw in a gentle hold.

“Say it one more time and I’ll really go, but don’t expect me to answer your next phone call when you want to cum so bad.” He answered darkly and let go then moved you off his lap and stood looking down at you with an unreadable expression gracing his handsome face, his eyes clouded with a profound sadness waiting again for you to tell him it was finally over even though it tore you apart as well to let him go.

You curled into yourself and looked away from him still afraid to meet his look. “Go.” It was all that could be mustered feeling unshed tears sting your eyes. He stared at you for a moment longer then finally left leaving you totally alone until Aina came back in to comfort you and balm the waterworks you let loose sobbing against her shoulder with fat rivers streaming down your face.

A little after two weeks the whole embarrassing ordeal of your interview and makeout session was ruined by Toji you didn’t hear from him, no text or call giving you the reality of what it’s like not to have him in your life, something you didn’t quite like, the hole inside your chest only grew deeper and wider. It was a Friday night you stood in the kitchen and rubbed your face as you sighed and read the email from Aina.

The meetup for the first shoot was tomorrow night, a cliche roleplay video between a masseur and his lonely housewife of a client wanting to feel the touch of a man so bad she’s willing to cheat on her husband for an orgasm. Having Gojo’s fingers like that on you wasn’t bad, and thankfully he’s been talking to you via texting and sometimes FaceTime calls during the last few weeks to see how you’ve been doing and to make you more comfortable around him.

You felt like you and he were meant to be friends nothing more and having sex with Gojo seemed strange in a way, and you knew that you pushed Toji away but his failing to see what he was doing was wrong is something that couldn’t be ignored. It was pathetic almost how much you missed your ex-boyfriend, however, you couldn’t give in to the weakness and his charms.

Twenty-four hours later you found yourself on the massage table naked with a towel covering you, the scene was practiced for at least two hours before any shooting began. It was time to actually do it. “This is the fourth time you’ve visited me, Miss. Aki. Did you pull something again?” Gojo asked when he stepped onto the set with a bottle of oil in his hands and a grin.

He was supposed to be clueless and let you come onto him and take what you wanted. “I did yes in yoga class I think it was, it’s sore and I can’t spread my legs.” You replied with a fake pout looking at him, your eyes heavily rimmed with mascara and lips a clear glitter and glossy. Gojo came closer to the side of the table and rested one hand on your forearm with a reassuring look.

It was hard not to really think about the many cameras facing you two as you smiled at him and ran your hand up his bare arm. “Thank you,” You told him sultry and watched as he poured a generous amount of the warmed coconut oil into his palms rubbing them together before beginning on your upper left thigh, his hands gliding against your slick flesh pushing the towel.

Your heart lurched at being touched like this, in your lower belly you felt a pull the more Gojo continued and moved to your right leg, his hands coming incredibly close to your bare pussy that begged to be touched. He made small conversation, mentally reading the script in his head. “Do you charge extra for more?” You asked holding his wrist and guided it to between your legs.

Gojo couldn’t help the surprise that took over his features just at how soaked you really were, the tips of his fingers collected your wetness and found your clit rubbing it slowly. He leaned down to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on your bare chest until he finally reached your nipple drawing the bud into his warm mouth, his hips languidly and mindlessly humping the table.

You arched your back forcing more of your tit into his mouth when he slid two fingers inside your drenched pussy at the same time you curled your fingers into his hair pulling him closer, the feeling of him inside you hitting all the right spots made your head spin. “Don’t stop!” It wasn’t fake the way you begged and moaned for Satoru to keep going until you came around his fingers.

He abided and kissed his way down to the valley between your breasts over the soft hills of your stomach until he reached your clit, his tongue swirled against it, and the sweet coconut exploded on his tastebuds from the oil that was used for your massage that Satoru continued with his free hand until your ass cheek was in his large open palm. “Toji!” You moaned rolling your hips.

Everyone stopped and the director called cut. Satoru froze with a frown and pulled his fingers out leaving you to feel empty. “Oh - I am so sorry!” When your brain caught up with what you mumbled, you looked flustered and apologetic, it was a total slip of the tongue that was embarrassing and it ruined the entire mood for the video.

The white-haired man turned away for a second before he sat on the edge knowing aftercare is important and drew circles on your hip. You were still high from your orgasm as you huffed angry at yourself for even thinking about him. “I really am sorry, I have no idea why I even said that - ” He interrupted you with a head shake as he pulled his hand away and looked at you.

“Because you still love him, it’s clear you do to anyone who has seen you two together, and he feels the same about you. I think maybe you two should do a video, there is a lot more chemistry.” Satoru murmured and looked back at Aina who stood perched on the edge and came forward when he got up and she took his place with a sympathetic look on her face.

She pulled you against her once the towel covered your body again. “What do you want to do?” It was a question you didn’t have an answer to. Would Toji come if she called him? It was true what he said, but couldn’t stomach the fact that he seemed to be the one for you and the same goes for you as well, it was an unmistakable love that couldn’t be denied no matter what.

An hour later Aina had you dressed in something comfortable after a shower and curled up on the couch in the room you first met her in. “I got him to agree to come in, are you sure you’re ready to face him and do a video?” She asked again and plopped down next to you with a heavy sigh waiting for Toji to show up.

“Maybe not a video, I don’t know yet but I do want to talk to him alone first then if it ends up like that then yes, however, I think it will.” You spoke the truth, makeup sex was like a prayer in your relationship that fixed whatever bump appeared in the relationship. She nodded and opened her mouth to speak when the door swung open and Toji walked in leaving the door open for Aina in a silent way to tell her to leave, his presence demanded attention, at least from you anyway.

You sat up and looked at him before bidding your new friend and boss goodbye and watched as she left leaving you and him alone. “Thanks for coming, I didn’t think you would but I'm really glad you did.” You murmured first breaking the tense silence and watched as he crossed the room to sit next to you in two strides, reminding you of the last time you both saw each other.

His smell was all-potent male; a warm blend of tobacco and whiskey that made your pussy clench and throb, you wanted to lean and nuzzle your face in his shirt. “I love you too, and when we were filming I moaned your name when I came, and he was only fingering me…we would have better luck doing this together, you’re the one for me, I don’t want anyone but you anyway.” You whispered looking at him feeling your stomach curl as he stayed silent for a few minutes.

Toji hummed at your admittance and leaned in until his lips brushed against yours then you were yanked into his lap, his mouth was onto yours in a claim and possessive kiss. “I hate that another man touched you like that and made your cute cunt cry out, I think we need to rectify that, huh?” He asked and kissed your jaw and neck leaving love bites behind, a mark of him.

“I don’t know why you kept running away when I’m always going to find you sweetheart, it was pointless. I missed you.” He almost growled as Toji nuzzled his face into your neck, his hands becoming greedy and exploring your body pulling your shirt up to knead his fingers into your hips before he pulled away to tug the fabric off and toss it to the floor leaving you topless.

You climbed off his lap and went to the corner turning the camera on and making sure it was facing the couch and shed the rest of your clothes on the way leaving a trail of discarded fabric before you got back on his lap finding solace in his cradle from being away for so long.

With no bra on he focused on your peaked nipples that ached to be sucked on and pinched, one large hand came up and cupped one breast. “It was absurd to think I could, mhm?” You shot back with a grin as you threaded your fingers through his soft raven hair kissing him again, your tongue swirled with his until a bridge of spit connected your lips when you pulled away from him.

His lips curled into a smile letting his hands continue to grope and feel up your body until you sat naked in his lap. “Get naked too, don’t let me be the only one here.” You told him with a pout and tugged on his soft gray shirt that hugged his muscular body. He chuckled, reached behind him, and pulled it off in one fluid motion. “You do the rest for me, princess,” Toji said with a smirk.

You were quick and got on your knees and tugged off his sweatpants and boxers until he was naked before sitting up more to wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, the flesh warm and silky as you jerked your hand up and down using the pre-cum as a lube before you leaned in and sucked on the swollen head with a groan looking up at him before taking more of him in your mouth.

Toji rested one hand on your head and followed the movement as you bobbed up and down letting the spit that gathered in the back of your throat to cover his throbbing dick until you gagged around him, your pussy fluttered wanting attention which he knew. “Sit that pretty pussy on my face and you can continue to suck my cock, sound good princess?” He asked huskily.

“Yes, I missed doing that so much, only you can make me feel this good.” You praised and watched as he settled on his back before he helped you get situated, your thighs straddling his face at this advantageous point he could see the clear sticky stringy slick bridged from your pussylips creating a mess that he wanted to clean up, his tongue sucked on your clit once you sat fully down on his face.

His hands massaged your ass as you went back down on him, the fat mushroom tip of his cock hit the back of your throat while your hips rolled against his face chasing your own high, it was lewd; the wet sounds of you sucking his cock like you were slurping a thick milkshake and him he acted like this was the last time he was going to be able to get anything to eat ever again.

You’ve never felt so wet between your legs like this as you gripped his thighs intent on making him cum, your hand came down to cup his sack rolling it in your hand gently while fucking his face with no shame feeling the ball of pleasure tighten in your lower belly as he made out with your pussy slowly with tender kisses and licks spreading you open while bucking his hips up.

Toji moaned against your wet cunt growing closer to his orgasm when you sucked his head and let go of one of your ass cheeks to hold your head down excited to feel your throat tighten around him like this again, this time he’s the lust-riddled one filling the back of your mouth with his warm cum. He tapped your ass and pulled away. “Don’t swallow just yet, cum for me.”

He sat you back down on his face, his tongue swirled against your clit again as you struggled to keep his load that mixed with spit and trickled from the corner of your mouth, a moan threatened to slip free but you kept down and creamed on his tongue with a grunt experiencing the best orgasm you’ve ever had, your body went limp making it easy for Toji to tuck you into his lap.

His hand held your cheeks and squeezed them watching his thick cum oozed from your swollen and shiny lips. “Such a pretty sight, so cute, you still taste like a delicacy.” Toji pushed into your mouth with his thumb and watched as you sucked on it before pulling away to kiss him transferring his own release into his mouth, it was vulgar the way he swallowed it all no issue.

When you pulled away completely it was easy to melt into his warm naked embrace before you attempted to sit on his knees and rub the length of his leaky cock between the lips of your sticky pussy, his finger followed along the smooth ridge of himself gathering your slick lubing his cock up letting the tip catch on your soft hole. “This will always be my pussy, ya know that? I can’t believe you thought that guy could make you feel this good, huh? Nod if you know what I’m saying. Don’t tell me you’re already tapped out.” He chuckled and pinched your cheeks.

Toji nodded your head for you with a dark grin as he glided his cock in the seam of your cunt before he used his strength to manhandle you on your back spreading your legs obscenely wide which in turn parted your pretty pussylips coated with a beautiful shine of tangled slick. “‘S sexy, you’re fucking perfect for me.” He groaned and cupped your entire heat in his palm with a grin.

He was sure the camera caught the angle of him having you spread out open on the couch, his arms keeping you pinned down knowing exactly what it was you craved the most; and he was the only one who could grant you the mercy of coming again until there you were laid spent.

You looked up at him with a flushed face and glassy eyes, there was no way for you to go with his arm pressed against the back of your knees keeping you spread out open for him. “Nowhere to run, take my cock like you were meant to.” He muttered drunk on the need to feel you sucking him in even though there you murmured he was too big when Toji pushed past the soft muscle of your cunt slowly until he was bottomed out making sure you felt each ridge and vein of him.

The both of you let out a collective gasp of pleasure as Toji moved his hips back and forth in a steady rhythm. His thrusts were slow and methodical showing you just how much he missed you, each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge, with the way he positioned himself he considered himself one of the luckiest men ever to be able to see you take him so well.

Toji pushed one of your legs further back pressing it against your ear almost as he planted one foot on the floor and slowed his pace savoring the feeling of how your pussy felt wrapped around him. He bent at the waist and leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue playing with yours in a passionate makeout session, his hot breath panting against your flushed skin.

With him on top, it was impossible not to feel so full of him and at this angle, the tip of his cock hit the right spot with each thrust while his pelvis rubbed against your clit. “I love the way you look under me, so vulnerable and cute.” His lips left a trail of hot kisses down your neck and you felt your heart flutter. You moaned in pleasure as your body trembled in anticipation.

His mouth found yours again in another sensual kiss feeling your orgasm erupt. Your cunt pulsated around him trying to milk him for everything he has. “Toji! Feels so good!” You moaned with a slack jaw, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he drug you up and down the length of his cock, his hand brushed away your hair in a caring and gentle manner.

“I know princess, you’re milking me ‘s good, should fuck a baby into you, would ya like that?” He grunted giving you some reprieve when he tossed your leg over his shoulder letting it dangle as he fucked you through your high, the idea of your belly swollen and round with his baby made Toji feral, his cock throbbed deep inside you as he stopped his movements pinching your cheeks again with another chuckle.

Your eyes fluttered open as you stared at him with lust-blown pupils. He nodded your head then shook it side to side. “Did you understand me?” He asked repeating himself anyway before you got the chance to respond. You nodded your head of your own volition wanting it as well, it was something that you’d thought about before and you both have discussed marriage too.

He grunted deep in his throat grinding himself against you, his orgasm hit him hard as he emptied himself inside your wet soft pussy until it leaked out around him despite him keeping you plugged up. Toji turned his head and pressed feather-light kisses to your ankle. “I really missed my princess, come home with me?” He asked and looked down at you.

Your heart shuddered in your chest as you reached out to link your fingers with his. “I will stay the night with you, but I think I’m going to stay at my apartment, show me how serious you are first then we’ll go from there.” You told him, and even though he would like if you did move back in he agreed and made a vow to change his ways if that meant you’d come back to him fully.

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vinnieslove · 2 years

Text

skin care

summary; vinnie let’s you do some skin care on him

warnings; pet names (baby, princess)

authors note; ENJOY I LITERALLY HAVENT POSTED IN FOREVER AND IM SORRY

it was currently 9:48pm and you were laying and your bed you shared with vinnie while he was playing video games at his desk. you were currently scrolling through tiktok, as you had nothing else to do.

after watching a tik tok about a cute cat, you scrolled to the next which happened to be a girlfriend doing skin care on her boyfriend. you watched as she pulled his hair back with a headband, did a face mask, jade roll, moisturize, and all that other stuff to her boyfriend. you first thought was how cute this was. then suddenly, the idea to do it to vinnie popped in your head.

you hopped out of bed and shuffled you way over to vinnie. you lazily wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, “hi baby.” you greeted him with kisses on his check and neck.

“hi princess,” he said while leaning into your touch. “what’s up?”

“mmm, can i do some skin care on you,” giving him lots of kisses in hopes of persuading him.

vinnie doesn’t give it much thought before agreeing and finishing his game. “let me finish this real quick. it’ll only be a couple more minutes.”

you never really minded when vinnie played video games like most girlfriends would. that’s because vinnie wasn’t so distracted by them as other boyfriends were. whenever you needed him, or simply just wanted to cuddle, he would 98% of the time stop whatever he was doing and immediately be by your side. that other 2% was if he was nearly done with the game he would ask if he could finish and you always said yes.

it was also a big bonus to see how happy he got when he won whatever game was playing.

while you waited for vinnie to finish, you got out all that you wanted, except for stuff that needed to be cold; you kept that in your pink mini skincare fridge your parents gifted you a couple years ago.

you picked out three of your five skincare headbands for vinnie to pick out. you had also picked out a few different kinds of face masks for him to chose from too.

when you left your shared bathroom, vinnie was laying, waiting patiently on your bed scrolling through his phone. a small smile brightened your face as you made your way to him, setting down the stuff you gathered on the bed. you sat on your knees beside him on the bed and greeted him with a quick kiss then began.

“okay, first, which headband do you want,” you held up all the options. “this one is bear ears, this one’s cat ears, and this one is just a white bow.” you held out each option as you called it out.

vinnie pondered and looked between the three, “the bear one.” he pointed to.

vinnie lifted his head slightly as you pulled it over his head and bringing it up to pull his hair out of his face.

“we totally don’t have to do this and it’s up to you but,” you paused momentarily. “can i do your eyebrows?”

without any hesitation, vinnie agreed, “of course, baby.”

so you got out your derma blade and tweezers. “now, if this hurts, tell me and i’ll stop.” vinnie just nodded in response.

you fixed the top of his brows and plucked some of the hairs under it. each time you plucked the hairs, vinnie would squint in pain. it hurt, but of course he would take it just for you. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” you would apologize quietly after every pluck.

“now the hard part is over. let’s get relaxing!” he loved your enthusiasm; it made his heart beat a thousand miles per minute.

vinnies eyes were shut and you were opening the eye mask bag. “wait,” vinnie softly interrupted. “cand you, maybe, explain everything while you do it?”

you chuckle slightly at this, “of course. right now, i’m taking out these little patch things and i’m putting them under your eyes to help with puffiness and reduce eye bags.” you informed the best you could.

“hey! are you saying i have bad eye bags?!”

you gasped slightly, “what? no!” vinnie laughed at you as you got all flustered and eventually you joined in on the laughter.

before getting started, you straddled his lap and vinnie rested his hands on your thighs. you did what you explained and you took the gold under eye patches and placed them under his eyes. “alright, now i’m going to take this rose-quartz roller and gently massage it in.”

you were barely starting and yet vinnie was already getting so relaxed, he felt sleepy. a faint smile appeared on vinnies face, he could practically see the concentration on your face. the way your eyebrows furrow slightly and your tongue sticks out a little.

once you were done, you set the roller aside and discarded the eye patches back in its original packaging, setting it off to the side and mentally labeling it as the start of the trash pile. “now, you are going to pick out a type of face mask to do.” vinnies eyes open enough to see. “we have a peel-off mask, a sheet mask, or one i can wash off with a wash cloth.” you show the options.

vinnie contemplated for a bit before picking the sheet mask. you had picked out one from your fridge that was infused with aloe vera. “this one has aloe vera, ‘k?” vinnie just hummed in response.

you opened the package and placed the sheet mask on his face, adjusting it before taking the roller and massaging it in again. vinnie hummed at the feeling.

you took the mask off, placing it back in the package, and using your fingers to massage the residue in. afterwards, you gave vinnie a quick kiss before moving on. “now i am putting some vitamin c serum on you.” your voice gentle, relaxing vinnie even more.

you place small drops on key components of his face: forehead, cheeks, and chin. you massaged it in again with your delicate fingers.

finally it was the last step, moisturizer. “last but not least,” you started. vinnie internally frowned, he didn’t want this to end. “moisturizer.” you took your moisturizer and rubbed it in gently.

“all done, baby.” you smiled. vinnies eyes flutter open to look at your beautiful self sitting on his lap. he took one of his hands off your thigh to take off the head band. he sat up as you pushed yourself back to let him sit up.

after he sat up, he gave you a quick yet passionate kiss. “that was amazing. you need to do that more often.” giving you another kiss.

“good. i’m glad you enjoyed.”

you both finsihed your night rountines, settling into bed. you curl up to vinnies side before he says, “next time, i wanna do that to you.”

you chuckle, “i would love that.”

you both snuggle deeper into the bed before drifting off into a relaxing sleep.

#vinnie hacker #vhackerr #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie x reader #vinniehacker #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker one shot

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morningberriesao3 · 9 months

Text

Dirty Words

Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Word Count: 10.2K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warning: Explicit m/m sexual content including dirty talk, masturbation, hand jobs, spit and cum as lube, allusions to anal sex, scent kink, spit kink, multiple orgasms, and oral sex. Excessive swearing. Recreational drug use and drinking. This post includes explicit sexual content, foul language, and sensitive themes. It is intended for those 18 and older ONLY. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

Disclaimer: All characters in my fics engaging in sexual acts are—and always will be—18 or older, even if not explicitly stated.

DIRTY WORDS

Eddie is feeling all floaty and shit. The weed Argyle gave him really is better than the skunkweed he’s been peddling in alleyways since he was sixteen years old. Not that he’ll ever admit to it. Definitely a fact he’ll take to his grave.

But for now, Eddie has the weekend off from his new, lousy day job that Steve and (mostly) Robin managed to bag him at Family Video. To be honest, it had been a last resort. But turns out, business is shit after he fucking finally graduated high school. And now—cherry on top!—he’ll have to figure out how to file taxes and shit. Welcome to the corporate world.

With a sigh, Eddie takes another drag from the perfectly rolled joint that he made himself. Argyle can’t top him on that, at least.

Eddie giggles to himself. Top him. Shit, Argyle could top him if he really wanted to, considering how fucking pent up—

The phone rings, making Eddie jump a good six inches from the sunken couch cushion he’s lounging on. He scrambles to a sitting position, and then lifts himself onto his legs that only slightly wobble like a newborn giraffe underneath him. He runs to the yellowing, plastic phone that’s hung up on his uncle’s trailer’s wall, hoping that maybe it’s the guy Eddie’s been fooling around with on the other end of the line. Maybe he could try the whole phone sex thing. Again. And not fuck it up this time.

“Hello?”

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice all staticky through the speakers. “Why does it sound like you just ran a marathon, dude?”

Eddie realises he’s panting. He’s not sure if it’s from the short dash to the telephone, or if it’s because his blood was rushing to his cock for a minute there instead of his lungs.

Either way, he should probably consider going for a jog once in a while or something. It’s kind of sad that he’s winded.

“Shut up, man,” he says. “Maybe I was running a marathon. You’d never know.”

“I do know. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when you decide to exercise willingly. The sun will be rising in the West. The sky will be green and the grass will be blue when Eddie Munson runs a marathon.”

“You forgot when pigs fly.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He nearly drops the phone that’s wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “Did you call to talk about my general lack of fitness, or is there another reason you called, Harrington?”

“I’m bored,” Steve whines. The phone line crackles. Eddie can only assume Steve is, like, laying in bed or something.

Laying in bed, in those navy blue sheets. Shirtless. Maybe fresh out of the shower. A little wet still, his hair sticking up around his head—

No. Nope.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the next image (a towel slipping away from Steve’s hips), because three months ago he made a rule for himself. No more fantasising about Steve goddamn Harrington.

It had been becoming nearly impossible to look the other man in the eye after some of the things Eddie imagined doing with him.

Steve continues on, completely unaware of Eddie’s wandering mind. “Robin is working tonight and tomorrow so she can’t hang.”

“Glad to know I’m your second choice,” Eddie teases.

“No! No, I would have called you either way.”

“Sure you would have.”

Eddie smiles to himself. He’s not actually miffed. He and Steve have become way closer than he would have ever imagined possible. It started when Robin would ask him to hang out, and then she’d invite him along with her and Steve, and then somehow he and Steve just started hanging out alone. And it wasn’t even all that awkward.

Turns out Eddie is cooler than Steve thought, and Steve is more of a loser than Eddie thought.

“Eddie,” Steve groans. And Eddie tries not to be perverted about how good it sounds. “Come on, dude. Let’s hang out.”

“Can’t, man,” Eddie says. “I’m busy.”

“What? No you’re not. It’s nine at night and you’re at home. I also know Wayne works a double, so he won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“It’s weird that you know my uncle’s schedule.”

“No it’s not; he works the same shifts every week. Point is, I know you’re alone. Unless you have other friends that I don’t know about?”

“I do have other friends!” (Not really. Just a guy Eddie’s made out with a couple times in the city, and the members of Corroded Coffin who’re away for the summer.)

“Oh.” Steve goes quiet for a moment, and Eddie feels like he won. But then, “Well, are they over right now?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re not busy! I can bring movies. I have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Wildcats—”

“What makes you think I want to watch a sports movie?”

“And Labyrinth.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. Shit, he loves David Bowie, and he hasn’t been able to get his hands on a copy yet. But he also knows Steve won’t just return the movie before Eddie has the chance to see it, because Steve isn’t mean like that. Not like Eddie is.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting high and being alone!” And jerking off for the next hour and a half to see how many times he can make himself come before it becomes unbearable.

Eddie doesn’t add that last point, for obvious reasons.

“I like getting high. Please, Eddie? I’m so bored. And my house is empty and quiet, and you know how I get nightmares when—”

“Okay! Okay, oh my god, fine. You’re so whiny.” Eddie had no idea Steve was such a beggar. He kind of likes it. “But you have to bring beer as payment. Afterhours fee.”

“Yes,” Steve says, sounding like he’s doing something dorky like punching the air. “Beer it is. See you soon.”

“Hey, Harrington, can you give me, like—” half an hour, Eddie wants to say. But the line goes dead.

He wonders if he can manage to pump one out before Steve gets to the trailer. And the thing is, his dick is harder than he’d like to admit after hearing Steve’s voice. So he’s going to try.

Eddie runs to his room, pulls down his flannel pants so the elastic sits taut under his balls. He doesn’t bother laying in his bed; he just sits on the edge of it, facing his mirror, watching as he fists his own cock and gives it a few tugs. It’s not a narcissism thing, Eddie just likes the visual. Likes to imagine it’s someone else’s hand, or someone else’s cock. Likes to see the tip of it, shiny and red, as his foreskin pulls down his shaft to expose it.

He wonders if Steve is cut or not.

Fuck—no. No, no, no.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking about Steve, he should be thinking about the guy from the bar. About how hard his dick had been, pressing into Eddie’s hip as they made out against the wall in the alleyway.

Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s doing something…

Eddie watches as his hand pumps over his cock, watches as it starts to strain, the veins popping from the skin as he builds himself up. He squeezes hard around the crown. It only gives a little under the pressure, considering how hard he is, but it makes his dick offer up a pearl of precum that he gathers and spreads around the slit. When he lifts his thumb away, a sticky string connects his hand between his legs.

He likes the way that looks. He likes when things start to get messy. He wonders if he’ll ever get to see the guy from the bar’s cock like this, if he also likes to play with cum and spit.

If Steve ever plays with cum and spit when he’s on his own, like Eddie does. He wonders how Steve touches himself, what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what sounds he makes, what face he makes…

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Yeah, that’s fucking good.

Okay. Okay it’s fine, Eddie will just think about Steve one more time, and then he’ll for sure stop doing it. Just this one more time…

A jolt travels from Eddie’s cock into the tight muscles of his stomach as he imagines Steve’s face all twisted up in pleasure. Those strong thighs bracketing Eddie’s head as he sucks back little dribbles of salty white that leak out of Steve. His nose brushing against a mound of dark hair that Eddie just knows would grow thick around the base of Steve’s cock; little curls that smell like honey and almond soap, because Steve uses the expensive shit.

Jesus Christ. What he wouldn’t give to go down on Steve, just once. Just one time.

Eddie’s mouth waters as his hand flies harder, faster. He’s so fucking close. Just a quick, dirty orgasm before Steve comes over. Steve. Fuck, yes, Steve—

There’s a loud knock on Eddie’s front door.

No! Shitshitshit. He just needs two more minutes. Maybe not even that, just one—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is muffled beyond the walls of the trailer. Eddie almost considers letting him wait outside while he finishes up, but he can hear Steve’s footsteps getting closer to his bedroom window.

A rock hits the glass and shocks Eddie enough that it sets him back. Now it would definitely take the full two minutes.

“Shit! Goddamn fucking Harrington—” Eddie stands from the mattress and releases his cock from the death grip he had on it. It bobs between his legs, so fucking stiff that there’s no way it’s going away on its own anytime soon. “One sec!”

Eddie has no choice but to tuck his cock into the waistband of his pants. The tip pokes up under his navel, like it’s staring angrily at him for not finishing the job he started. It’s throbbing, and leaking, and getting the fabric it’s tucked into all damp.

“Same,” he mumbles to his dick as he grabs a longer t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Another rock smacks against his window.

“Coming!” Well, he was about to anyway.

He doesn’t jog to greet Steve, because he doesn’t want to risk his dick slipping from its hiding spot. That is a conversation Eddie wants to avoid.

When he opens the front door, Steve has another rock in his hand, aimed towards Eddie’s window.

“You better not throw that, Harrington.”

Steve’s head whips around. His eyes are full of mischief, a small smile on his lips. His hair is freshly washed and styled, just like Eddie suspected. And his outfit is positively sinful (if you’re horny like Eddie is). Grey sweatpants and a plain white tee, which Eddie thinks is the guy version of lingerie.

Totally unfair, especially when Eddie would just like if his dick would go soft again.

“Why did you take so long, dude? Your trailer park is scary in the dark.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “You’ve literally fought monsters and a dark wizard in an alternate dimension, and you think my trailer park is scary?”

“Yeah.” Steve points over his shoulder to a mobile home down the lane. “There was an old dude watching me from his window.”

“Mr. Jackson?” Eddie tilts his head, sees the curtains ruffling as his neighbour draws them back. “He’s… mostly harmless. I think.”

“You think?” Steve flings up Eddie’s steps and quickly locks the door behind him.

“Totally. I mean, besides the shotgun he keeps next to his couch. But that’s reserved exclusively for handsome young men that come around the trailer park after nine PM.” Eddie checks his watch, gasps in mock fear, widens his eyes, and peers out of the window behind Steve’s head. “That means you’re not safe! I think—I think I hear him loading the gun!”

Steve grabs Eddie’s arm, just for a second, as he cranes his head to look out the window. When Eddie’s sarcasm finally sinks in, he lets go and punches him (a little too hard) where his hand had been. “You’re such a dick.”

“I think that was kind of a compliment,” Eddie says, rubbing at the place where he would surely bruise. “I did say you were handsome.”

Steve flops down on Eddie’s couch and tosses a bag full of VHS tapes and a six pack onto the ground by his feet. He leans back, like he’s making a point, flourishing his hand over the length of his body with the most disgustingly sexy lazy smile on his face. “Yeah, well, that’s common knowledge.”

Jesus.

Eddie looks down to make sure his cock is still out of sight. He can feel it pulse between his legs as he hears Steve’s voice, sees how he stretches on the sofa. But thank God, he’s still tucked away and Steve should be none the wiser.

He takes his place next to Steve—makes sure his shirt drapes loose enough around him that it hides how hard he is.

He wonders if blue balls are a real thing. Will Eddie have severe health defects if he doesn’t come? Will his boner go away on its own?

Questions that he’ll find out sooner or later, he supposes.

“Little full of yourself, are you, Harrington?”

Steve sighs. “Not at all. It’s actually hard work being this gorgeous. You would know.”

Eddie feels his cocky expression fall from his face.

Did Steve just call him gorgeous? Or did Eddie totally misinterpret his words? He blushes and figures it’s better to be safe than be sorry. “Sure,” is all he replies with.

“So,” Steve says casually, “where’s this weed I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Eddie smiles, big and sweet, and points towards his bedroom where he left the joint to fizzle out in an ashtray before he molested himself. “Be a dear and go grab it from my nightstand?”

The truth is, Eddie’s pretty sure the tip of his dick slipped from under the elastic of his pants when he sat down. Miraculously, he thinks it’s starting to deflate by the teensiest fraction, but it would still basically slap Harrington in the face if he tried to stand.

Which—good thing or bad thing? Eddie isn’t sure. That would all have to do with Steve’s reaction. But he’s not willing to find out.

Steve rolls his eyes but gets up like a good little boy to fetch the ashtray. He brings it and the lighter to the coffee table where Eddie had been smoking before.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie is back in his floaty state with a beer between his legs instead of a hard on. Turns out, stiffies don’t actually last forever if you don’t let yourself come. It’s just very, very frustrating.

“You up for another beer?” Steve asks slowly, reaching into the bag to grab two bottles. His eyes are glazed and blown, and Eddie thinks he looks totally fucked up already. It’s hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

Steve hands Eddie a new PBR, and his eyes do this little flare thing that makes him look adorable. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” Eddie asks, popping the cap and replacing his empty bottle with the new one.

“Being up for something and being down for something mean the same thing, even though they’re the opposites. I just realised that.”

Eddie smiles against the lip of the bottle, feeling the glass clink against his teeth. “Shit, man, you’re so high.”

“Am not.” Steve honest to God giggles as he makes eye contact with Eddie. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“I’m glad you came over, Harrington,” says Eddie after a beat. “Better than another night alone.”

Steve opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Both men turn their heads to stare at the wall phone, but Eddie doesn’t make a move to stand up to actually answer.

Because, for some reason, his mind is suddenly going a million miles a minute.

He knows it’s not his uncle calling in the middle of work, and he knows it’s obviously not Steve. The chances that it’s Robin are slim to none because her shift doesn’t end for another half hour. Gareth and Jeff are away with their respective families.

So the most logical answer to who’s calling after dark, would be the guy from the bar.

And the thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to raise questions. Isn’t sure if he’s capable of thinking of a good enough excuse as to who it was or why he’s calling. Yeah, he could probably have at least answered and told Bar-Guy to call back tomorrow, that he has company, but his brain isn’t thinking fast enough. So he just kind of… stares at the phone as it rings.

“I’ll get it,” Steve says after a few seconds, and suddenly he’s standing from the couch and reaching for the telephone—

“No!” Eddie pounces, because that’s even worse than if Eddie just answers the damn phone himself. He flounders towards Steve, grabbing the outstretched hand, stopping it from curling around the phone. “Stop! Stop—just let it ring!”

Steve gawks at him, but holds his hands in surrender in front of his chest.

The phone rings one more time, and then the kitchenette goes quiet.

Eddie heaves a sigh of relief, even though he probably just made more questions arise than he avoided by not picking up.

“What—what was that about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie huffs, dragging his feet back to the couch.

Steve follows closely behind. Just as Eddie flops onto the cushions, Steve is on top of him, tickling the shit out of Eddie’s arms, his sides, his stomach.

Eddie was not expecting anything like this—Steve’s hands all over him, his leg slung over Eddie’s to hold him down, the smell of Steve’s breath hitting his face. It’s not a bad smell, like freshly brushed teeth and beer and weed, and it’s warm, because their faces are so close together.

All Eddie can to is half-shriek-half-laugh, even as his mind muddles with confusion (and lust. Obviously).

“Tell me!” Steve commands, digging his fingers into Eddie’s neck, down his back, dangerously close to his thighs…

The boner that he just got rid of starts to fill out once more.

“Stop, dude!” Any sense of authority is lost under Eddie’s laughter that he can’t control. “No! Stop!”

“Come on, Munson. Spill the beans.”

Eddie tries flipping onto his stomach, but Steve follows him, blanketing over his back. The panes of his chest press behind Eddie, hard and warm, crowding him against the pillows. And there’s also friction.

Friction that could easily become a problem if Steve keeps goddamn moving against Eddie, making his hips rub against the couch—

“Okay! Uncle. Uncle!”

Eddie keeps panting face-down as Steve lifts himself away from his back.

“So?” Steve asks with a smile in his voice, triumphant from his win. An unhonourable win, as far as Eddie is concerned. Tickle torture is a serious offense. “What’s up your ass?”

Eddie snorts as he sits up, casually grabbing one of the throw cushions to hold against his lap.

Nothing, he wants to say. That’s the problem.

Instead, he just kind of adverts his gaze and goes for the truth.

“I’ve—kind of—been talking to…” this guy.

It’s not like Eddie has been hiding his sexuality from Steve, per se, but other dudes are way less accepting than girls about it. His first official ‘coming out’ had been to Robin (an obvious choice after she told him she’s a lesbian), and then to Nancy.

Apparently, Steve had been really cool when Robin told him she likes girls. But this is a different situation. Steve might be afraid that Eddie will, like, come on to him or something. Which… fair enough. Eddie probably would.

So, instead of finishing with the whole truth, he dampens it down a bit, and says, “Someone.”

“Oh. Shit.” Steve’s eyes do this thing where they drop to the floor, and then shoot sideways to Eddie, his eyebrows crumpled like a cartoon above his nose. He grabs the blunt, takes a deep drag. “That’s good though, right?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure.”

“Sweet. So what’s the issue?”

All of it. Everything.

Because said guy lives all the way in Indianapolis—two hours away—and the only chance they have to communicate is through phone. Which, by proxy, means that the only times they can actually meet up is after a phone conversation.

Not to mention the fact that they aren’t, like, official—that they just made out a few times. Once outside of the bar, and a couple times in the back of Eddie’s van, which left him achingly hard when they parted ways.

This circles back to point number one about the phone conversations. They’re awkward. They don’t know each other well, don’t know what to talk about. Things don’t just flow naturally. Not like they do with—oh, say—Steve.

Maybe the worst part is that Eddie is a twenty-one-year-old man with raging hormones that—as much as he wishes otherwise—he cannot control. His self-discipline is basically nil. Nada. Zero. He’s fucking horny all the time.

So how is he supposed to deal with long-distance plus rare phone calls?!

Bingo. Yep. Phone sex. It’s the obvious answer, is it not?

So Eddie, like, tried.

And he thought it started well!

What are you wearing? Is that not fucking obvious where Eddie was headed? Is that not the exact line that they use in movies and shit? That’s what he said—What are you wearing?—and then he shoved his hand down his pants and waited for Bar-Guy to get into it, start saying something filthy into the speaker that would get Eddie going.

Maybe like… ‘Nothing at all,’ or, ‘tight boxers that show off my cock,’ or—fuck—'a towel slung low on my hips’. Something like that!

But all Eddie got was, “Uh—sweatshirt. Jeans. Why are you breathing hard?”

And then Eddie had said, “Just thinking about you,” with his low and gravelly voice, to help keep the conversation moving (again, he thinks this is pretty obvious and, like, at least a bit sexy).

Here’s the real kicker. The dude then said, “Are you… touching yourself?”

And it was not a sexy question. He sounded completely weirded out! Horrified! Disgusted!

So Eddie pulled his hand out of his pants and basically yelled, “No!”

Deny deny deny. Eddie is good at that shit.

The conversation had gone on to other things. Dinner plans, or something. Eddie didn’t really care. All he could think about was that this guy probably didn’t want to fuck him. They’d had the opportunity before, and it never progressed. And the thought of Eddie even fisting his own cock all but repulsed him.

Such a damn shame. Because Eddie is so desperate, so pent up, so sick of fucking his own hand, that he’s literally about to drill a hole in one of Uncle Wayne’s oranges and go to town until there’s nothing left but pulp.

Eddie doesn’t tell Steve any of this. He just groans really loud and buries his face in his hands, and says, “I don’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Something’s up. Out with it.” Steve waves his hand in encouragement, vaguely gesturing to the empty trailer and himself. “Safe space.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers at Steve, and he just looks so… genuinely curious. Like he actually wants to help, or at least hear, Eddie’s problems.

“Okay, fine.” Eddie snatches the joint from between Steve’s fingers and sucks it back like it’s water, keeping his gaze from Steve’s (beautiful) hazel eyes. “It’s just that I… I kind of made it awkward. Last time we talked on the phone. I tried to initiate… uh”—he clears his throat—“phone sex.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, his forehead crinkling with surprise. His lips are shiny and pink. But that second part doesn’t have anything to do with Steve’s expression—Eddie just happened to notice them.

“Fuck,” Steve says, leaning forward to set his bottle on the table in front of them. “Yeah. I’ve been there before, man. What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I don’t know. What did you say? I assume it didn’t go well considering how you’re all… tense and shit.”

“Tense and shit.” Eddie laughs once, then mumbles, “You have no idea.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Steve encourages.

“It’s not! I started with the classic, what are you wearing?” Eddie drops an octave, making fun of his attempt to sound hot. “And then I got an actual play by play of what they were wearing.”

Steve sits back and thinks about it for a minute—his legs splayed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “I think the issue with that is… it’s obvious, but it’s not sexy.”

“How is it not sexy, dude?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “It’s literally a steppingstone into, like, a form of sex!”

“Yeah, sure, but it doesn’t get you hot. You know?”

“No, Steve, I don’t know. Because I’m always hot. Someone could bend to tie their shoes and I’d fucking cream my pants.”

Steve hiccups a startled laugh. “Fuck. Me too. It’s been forever.”

“I don’t think it’s natural for a guy to go this long, man.” Eddie swigs back the rest of his beer and cracks a third. Lights up a new joint, too. And honestly, regardless of his tolerance, he’s pretty fucked up.

“Do you know how many chicks I’ve gone out with? None of my dates have even led to hands stuff. It at least sounds like you’re close to sealing he deal.” Steve lolls his head towards Eddie with a cheeky little smile on his lips. “I mean, if you didn’t suck at talking dirty.”

“I do not suck!” Eddie cries, grabbing the throw cushion from his lap to smack it against Steve’s smug face.

Steve catches the pillow and rips it playfully away from Eddie’s grip. “Then show me.”

Eddie stares at Steve for way too long. He narrows his eyes after a few seconds. “You’re kidding me.”

“Not kidding. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re doing wrong.” Steve leans forward, plucks the joint right out of Eddie’s slack lips. “Just pretend I’m on the other end of the line.”

“No way, dude.”

Steve curls his hand up to look like a telephone, pretends to dial in a number. Brings it up to his ear. “Riiiinngg. Riiiinngg. C’mon, Eds, you’re getting a sexy phone call. Pick up. Riiinngg.”

Eddie feels his face flush red. He’s not sure if it’s from where this conversation is headed, or out of sheer embarrassment for Steve’s sake. “Holy fuck. You’re such a loser, Harrington.”

“I’ll just pretend you already answered and said hello. Hey, Eds. It’s… wait, what’s this guy’s name?”

Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it again, because Steve just said guy. Not girl. Guy. Is this a slip of the tongue? Or did Buckley out Eddie to Steve? Or Nancy?

No, neither of them would do that. Maybe Steve just figured it out from context clues.

But still, to be sure, Eddie just says, “What?”

“What’s his name?” Steve askes again.

So—shit—it definitely wasn’t a slip of the tongue. But Steve isn’t freaking out. Hasn’t freaked out in the past. And he’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but not judgy or anything.

Eddie clears his throat. “Nick.”

“Nick! Strong name. Not as strong as Steve, but not everyone can be a Steve—”

“Come on, man!” Eddie groans. Again. Hides his face. Again.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Eds, it’s Nick. What’re you up to?”

Eddie sucks in a breath and lets it forcefully out of pursed lips. “Uhh—hey, Nick… I’m…”—his eyes flick sideways to catch Steve staring at him with a half-smile on his face—“no. Nope! I can’t do this.”

Eddie goes to stand from his perch on the couch, but Steve’s arm shoots out to grab him. “Alright. Let’s just do it, you and me. No phone roleplaying required. Just start with saying a compliment you’d tell Nick or something.”

“Alright… Okay… Uh, you’re—I mean Nick—is really funny?” Eddie says. Nick isn’t all that funny but, fuck, it’s all Eddie can think of. Steve is funny, though, so it’s easy enough to say.

“Yeah, good. That’s good. What else?”

“And you’re really hot. Really fucking hot.”

“Good.” Steve shifts around on the couch, maybe trying to get more comfortable. “And then Nick would say something like, You’re really hot, too.”

Eddie stifles a giggle. “I really don’t think he would.”

“Well, just pretend he does. And then it’s your turn to keep the conversation heading in the direction you want it to.”

“By saying what, Harrington?”

“Try saying how I—Nick—makes you feel.”

“Okay. You make me feel… like I’m vibrating. Like I’m pressurized, or something.”

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, his voice dropping an octave. Probably just getting more into character. “What does that make you do, when you feel like that?”

“It makes me… makes me hard.” Eddie feels his hips pitching forward. His cock twitches under his flannel pants.

A dangerous game they’re playing. Maybe Steve doesn’t know just how serious Eddie was when he said he’s pent up.

“Fuck,” Steve says lowly.

“Too much?”

“No! Nah, it’s good. It’s hot. I mean, sometimes it’ll take longer to build into that kind of stuff, but keep going.”

Eddie nods nervously. “Okay. Uh, what do I say now?”

Steve sits up a bit to adjust the band of his sweats. “Sorry. So, you said it makes you hard. And then I’d say… me too. That it makes me hard just talking about it. Just thinking about it.”

Eddie’s dick is starting to properly fill out again. It makes sense since he never got to come after taking himself right to the edge before Steve came over.

He takes a steadying breath to try to will it away. “Shit. Okay.”

“Do you like that?” Steve asks. “Do you like thinking about how hard my cock gets when I think about you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

He can’t help but blurt out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Because it’s true. Eddie’s mouth is watering just from the thought of it. But as soon as the words push past his lips, he realises that it’s not exactly fitting in the theme of phone sex. So he quickly adds, “If we were together right now. Instead of—uh—just on the phone.”

“Fuck, yeah. You’d suck my cock so good.” Steve licks his lips, and Eddie swears his eyes trail over his body, landing between his legs and then back up to his mouth. “I’d fuck your throat so deeply you’d gag and drool all over yourself.”

Eddie can’t help himself from groaning at that image. And as if his body is proving to Steve just how right he is, a trickle of saliva escapes the corner of his lips before he’s able to swallow it back.

He lifts his hand to wipe the back of it against his mouth. “Jesus, Steve.”

Steve shifts closer to Eddie. His voice is low and soft and seductive, and Eddie is having a very hard time remembering that this is a game as he says, “And then I’d ask if you’re touching yourself.”

The words echo those of Nick’s. But when Steve says them, he doesn’t sound horrified at the thought. He sounds like he wants Eddie to be fucking his hand while they talk. Like the thought turns him on almost as much as it does Eddie.

“I would be, by now,” Eddie confesses, wiping his sweaty palms against his knees. He desperately wants to trail them higher, wants to rub between his legs where he’s throbbing and hot. His pants feel like a sauna. They’re humid and sticky, and he knows it’s partly because he’s radiating heat, but also because his cock is already starting to dribble.

“I would be, too,” Steve says. “I mean, Nick would be, too. If I was Nick. And I’d—I’d ask how you were touching yourself. What it felt like.”

Eddie glances between Steve’s legs again. And—holy shit—Steve is hard. As hard as Eddie.

His cock is fucking massive, as far as Eddie can tell. Thick, and long, sitting sideways inside his pants against his hip. Eddie knows it would stand proud by Steve’s belly button if it wasn’t trapped.

And he’s also pretty sure Steve is circumcised by the obvious ridge he can see under the fabric.

Maybe it’s dumb, or false hope, or just how ridiculously horny he is (again), but Eddie is feeling encouraged. Because he’s not the only one who’s getting hot. He’s not the only one who’s participating, or the only one who’s bricked up.

So… why not get into it a bit more?

“I’d say that I have my hand wrapped around my cock. That it feels heavy in my hand. And wet. That I’m leaking all over myself.” Eddie’s hips pitch forward on their own accord, the sensitive tip of his dick deliciously grazing against the flannel of his pants. “And I’d tell you that it feels good. Really fucking good. But it would feel better if it was your hand instead.”

Steve is the first one to break.

Eddie can tell it’s an automatic reaction when he reaches for his cock and squeezes where it’s straining under his sweats. Awareness shimmers in Steve’s eyes, and he quickly pulls his hand away again. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Eddie says fast as a whip, repeating Steve’s words from earlier. “Just means we’re doing good, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s laugh is small and breathy. “Really good.”

Eddie swallows his nerves, decides to see if he can keep whatever this is going. “What would you say after that?”

It seems it’s Steve’s turn to be flustered. Eddie can see red creeping up his neck, like his chest is flushed. It reaches his cheeks and makes him look all bright and pink. “I’d tell you what I’d be doing.”

“Which would be?”

“I’d be reaching under my pants, and I’d circle my fingers around my dick. Gently at first, because—because I’m sensitive down there. And I want to make it last.” Eddie watches as Steve’s hands lift back to his lap. And then pinch the hem of his shirt. A strip of his sun-kissed stomach flashes as his fingers tease against the drawstring of his pants. “Like this.”

Steve’s hand disappears as it pushes down into his sweats. It moves along the length of his cock. He adjusts so it’s no longer sitting sideways; it’s now straight up, as big as Eddie assumed, dangerously close from peeking past the waistband.

Eddie would not be upset if it did.

The best part is when Steve’s hand starts moving under the fabric. Long, soft strokes that Eddie can tell are featherlight, mostly just fingertips teasing against his skin. Just enough to make Steve bite down on his lip and his breath hitch in his throat.

“Steve—fuck.” Eddie’s mouth goes dry as he watches Steve touch himself. And he has a few fleeting thoughts.

First is the classic, Am I dreaming? Because surely Steve Harrington is not jerking himself off in Eddie’s living room on a Friday night while they say filthy things to each other under the guise of another dude.

Impossible.

The second comes after Eddie subtly pinches himself and doesn’t wake up. Which is, Is this a joke? Because now that he knows he’s (probably) not asleep, there must be some other horrible explanation for what’s happening. He racks his brain, plays back the events that led him here.

Eddie doesn’t think he could misinterpret everything. But he’s probably done dumber things in his life.

Plausible.

And the third—which is the thought that’s taking up the majority of his consciousness—is, Am I allowed to touch myself, too?

He doesn’t let himself consider this one too long. Because there’s no way in Hell that Eddie would be able to stop himself. Not if a gun was pointed to his head.

So he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes his cock way more aggressively than Steve.

It’s both not enough and instant satisfaction. Like when you start scratching an itch and it seems to get itchier as your nails dig into your skin, but at the same time it’s doing exactly what you need to soothe the discomfort.

Eddie’s lips part as he grabs his balls and gives them a taut squeeze. His dick basically weeps against his skin. So much precum is pushing from his slit that it’ll be a miracle if there’s any left when he actually comes. Fuck, he hopes this time he can actually come.

His heart is beating so goddamn fast in his chest that there’s a good chance if he stops for a second time this evening, it will give out. He really, really will die.

“Does it feel good?” Steve practically purrs the question.

Eddie nods fervently, but he’s not able to form words. He doesn’t know where to look; Steve’s blown eyes that seem more black than hazel, his hand that’s speeding up under his sweats, the damp patch that’s forming where his cock must be leaking nearly as much as Eddie’s if it has already soaked through the fabric, or the growing expanse of abs on show—flexing in tandem with Steve’s strokes—as his free hand continues to lift the hem of his shirt.

Fuck, Eddie wants to come. Right now. He wants to come right fucking now.

He squeezes the base of his cock, bordering on the verge of pain, to stop his orgasm in its tracks. “So good, Stevie.”

Steve’s head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes flicking between Eddie’s legs, his mouth, back down again… back up. He’s pumping himself with more intent now, his wrist twisting with each upwards stroke. “I wish it was your lips on me. I just know how good they’d feel. You have perfect dick-sucking lips.”

Eddie attempts stroking his cock again. It zaps into the coil in the pit of his stomach, but if he goes slow he’s sure he can go at least thirty second before he’s on the edge again.

“You have no idea, Steve,” he says, his tongue wetting his lips like he just might fall to his knees and start sucking Steve off for real. “I’d keep them nice and soft like you said you like. The inside of my mouth would be so wet—fuck, I’m salivating just thinking about it. And then I’d seal them around your big cock and hallow my cheeks when you least expect it, and you’d fucking thrust into my throat in surprise—”

Eddie moans, dropping his grip on himself yet again. That time it was really close; he can feel his dick pulsing under his pants. If he were alone, he’d push them down and watch as his cock twitched against his abdomen, angry at the loss of his fingers at the last possible moment.

Across from him, Steve speeds up; his hand moving in quick, short bursts against his tip. He makes his own noise, his eyes rolling back into his skull and then closing altogether.

It takes everything inside Eddie not to grab himself and come inside his pants right then and there. Shit, Steve looks so fucking good. Eddie desperately wants to see more. The colour of Steve’s dick, the way it strains, if it’s curved or straight, if it’s shiny. He wants to see it leak, wants to see Steve’s fingers catch the pearls of precum that are soaking through his pants and rub them into his skin. Wants to see it web between his fingertips—sticky and white. Wants to suck it off of them.

Shit. Fuck. It’s a miracle Eddie isn’t coming untouched. He’s still right there, on the verge of his orgasm. One single, insignificant, breath of a touch would one hundred percent set him off.

Steve’s eyes open. He drops his own dick, wipes his palm against his t-shirt. And he scootches closer to Eddie.

Just the brush of Steve’s thigh against Eddie’s makes him tremble, makes Eddie feel like he’s going to lose any semblance of control that remains.

They’re pressed right against each other. The length of Steve’s leg is warm and strong against Eddie’s, bigger than his. Thicker. Just like the rest of him.

Steve spits in his hand. Eddie watches as it pools in his cupped palm, watches as Steve brings that hand back down to the front of his pants. He stretches the waistband away from his body, and for a split second, Eddie catches a glimpse of his cock. Just the crown, broad and pink like Steve’s lips, right before the elastic snaps back and covers him again.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t you dare fucking come, Eddie Munson.

“And then,” Steve says, adding fuel to the fire, “I’m gonna bend you over the arm of this couch. You’ll look so hot, with your back arched and your ass on full display.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Fuck it. Eddie sticks his hand back down his pants, but barely touches himself. Just draws a line up the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He can feel his heartbeat under the pad of his finger.

“I’ll push into you so slowly. You’ll feel so full with my dick in your tight little asshole. And you’ll make those sexy little noises the whole time.”

Eddie makes one of them right as Steve says that—a low, quiet rumble from the back of his throat.

“Yeah, just like that. And then… then I’ll start fucking you. It’ll feel so good, Eddie.” Steve fucks his fist harder, his hips lifting from the couch like he’s chasing his own touch. His hand sounds wet on his cock, slapping and squelching each time it smacks against the base. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you start crying. That you start screaming. Your scary neighbours will know how good I’m fucking you from the noises they hear coming out of your trailer.”

Eddie wonders if he lets himself come if it’ll be the end of whatever is happening. He knows for a stone-cold fact that he’ll be able to stay hard after the first time. But Steve doesn’t know that. Not yet. Maybe he should tell him.

But for now, Eddie tries to regain some control, some semblance of his quippy, cocky personality, just so he doesn’t come off entirely as a whimpering fool (if it’s not already too late). He tries to smirk. “Bold of you to assume I’m a bottom, Harrington.”

“A bottom?” Steve asks, and Eddie realises that maybe it’s a term that he’s never heard before. Because he’s straight… (question mark?). Again, Steve uses context clues. Smart guy. He presses impossibly closer into Eddie’s side, and asks, “Are you telling me you don’t want to feel my cock inside of you? Don’t want my cum dripping from your asshole for hours after we fuck?”

Eddie’s whole body vibrates. That’s it. The end. He fists his cock and pumps it hard, pulling his foreskin forward enough to cover the head, back to expose it, all underneath the checkered fabric of his pants. “I’m gonna come, Steve. I’m coming.”

His teeth bite painfully into his lower lip as he lets himself tumble from the ledge. Cum surges from his cock hard enough that he knows it would have painted his entire chest if it wasn’t contained inside of his pants. Each wave of his climax makes him whine aloud. It sounds crude, mixed with the slick slap of his hand against his skin.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, staring as Eddie’s working fist, eyes blown wide like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

And maybe it shouldn’t, but Eddie’s left hand reaches out with a mind of its own, gripping high on Steve’s thigh. Squeezing it hard enough to leave a bruise, while his right is covered with hot, slick cum.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie babbles, riding out his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Keep going. Keep talking. Don’t stop. I’m not finished yet, I wanna come again. Please. Please.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Steve brings his own hand down atop where Eddie’s is still sunk into the flesh of his upper leg. For a moment, he thinks Steve is going to pry his fingers away, but instead he laces them with his own.

It’s such a simple thing, holding hands, but it feels intimate. Intentional. Like this isn’t just some game.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking that. But he is. He is. And it’s the moment he consciously knows he’ll be ruined for anyone else. End game for Eddie Munson. Steve held his hand while they jerked off. He’s in love.

Steve yanks him from his internal monologue. “You can come twice in a row?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his hand still squeezing between his legs. Each stroke sends a bolt of lightening through his entire body, but his dick barely softens in his hand before it stiffens back up to steel once more. “Usually more than that. Four times if I want, but—but not as much cum comes out as the first.”

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Can I… Can I see?”

His eyes flicker down to Eddie’s crotch.

“Sure.” Eddie pretends he’s confident as he tugs down his pants, lifting his hips enough to push the fabric under them.

His cock springs free from where it was trapped.

He doesn’t want to be self-conscious of his body, but he can’t help but wonder what Steve sees. If he’s at all disappointed that Eddie’s dick isn’t as big as his. It he thinks it’s weird that he’s uncut or that his dick curves upwards. If he let his pubes grow too long.

But Steve’s eyes go heavy with desire, taking in every inch of Eddie. The way his entire dick is shiny and sticky with his own cum, how it gets stuck in the hair that grows below it. His fingers squeeze around Eddie’s, involuntarily or in encouragement, he doesn’t know. But it makes him feel better.

Eddie is about to ask if Steve would show him more, too.

Steve beats him to it. “Do you want me to—?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Steve brings the hem of his shirt to his chin, catching it between his teeth. His whole chest is on display, his olive abs flexing as he pulls down the front of his sweats, tucking the elastic waist under his balls. His hand circles his cock, so thick his fingers barely meet.

And now they’re both just… bare. Basically naked as they jerk off next to each other, hands still intertwined like they’re some sort of couple. Things go quiet for a few moments as they just watch each other. How their hands work against themselves, speeding up, slowing, twitching.

Eddie’s cum gets sticky on his hand, against his cock. When he pulls his fingers away from his body it feels a bit like glue, tacking his hand up so much that it’s hard to slide it over his length.

“Spit on it,” Steve whispers, like he knows exactly what Eddie is thinking.

Eddie nods, bringing his hand up to his mouth—

“Wait.” Steve unlaces his fingers from Eddie’s, grabs his wrist. “Can I?”

“Shit.” Eddie huffs a breath through his nose. “Sure, Harrington.”

Steve lets a long string of saliva fall from his pretty, pink lips. It wets Eddie’s palm, mixing with the cum that covers it, making it slippery instead of sticky. Instead of letting go, though, Steve brings Eddie’s hand down to his own lap.

“Wanna switch?”

And—holy fucking fuck. Eddie trembles with ill-contained delight. He doesn’t even reply, just wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock before he can even think about what’s happening. What it means. That it’s changing the dynamic—they’re getting involved with each other instead of just themselves.

It doesn’t even matter. Not right now.

Steve’s head falls back against the cushions. “Oh God, that’s amazing.”

Eddie slides his fingers up Steve’s shaft—so heavy and hot in his hand—just as Steve described he liked. Soft and gentle. He twists his wrist in the same way Steve touched himself, watches as his lips part and his brows crinkle together, marvels at the vision of Steve’s cockhead surging from his grip, so flushed against the paleness of his hand and the silver of his rings.

He squeezes a bit harder and watches Steve’s hips rut towards him.

“You look so good,” he tells Steve, voice getting lost behind the moans that Steve keeps loosing from his lungs.

“Eddie?” Steve pants, thighs twitching as Eddie dares to circle his thumb around Steve’s slit, gathering more wetness to join the rest.

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious earlier?” Steve asks, barely a whisper. “About wanting to suck me off?”

Eddie’s hand stills on Steve, his eyes shining wide with shock and want. “Yeah? I mean—yeah. Very serious.”

“…Would you?”

Steve doesn’t have to say anything else. Eddie is already sliding onto the floor, already grabbing Steve’s knees and spreading them apart so he can slot himself between them. As soon as he’s bracketed by those strong thighs, they clamp down against his waist. A powerhouse of muscle, locking him to where he kneels.

Eddie is slightly intimidated by Steve’s cock. Will he have to unhinge his jaw like some sort of python to fit it in his mouth?

He leans down and kitten licks the tip, testing how it might feel on his tongue. Steve’s body jolts from that alone, makes a little whimpering noise that makes Eddie’s dick dribble onto the carpet.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages as Eddie’s lips close around the crown of his cock. “That’s perfect. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all I think about.”

Eddie moans, opens his jaw wider, and then sinks forward. Steve’s cock glides against Eddie’s tongue. It tastes like hot, sweaty skin. And cum—whether it’s Eddie’s from his hand, or Steve’s pre, it’s salty and heady and makes Eddie’s mouth even more wet as he salivates.

“Fuuuuck.” Steve’s fingers bury themselves in Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer.

It’s different than his fantasies. Steve doesn’t smell like honey and almond soap, and Eddie’s nose most definitely cannot reach Steve’s pubes, even as the tip of his dick brushes against the back of his throat. But the dark curls at the base are exactly as Eddie pictured. Perfectly trimmed and up-kept, as nicely as the hair on Steve’s head.

Eddie can’t help but pull off Steve to trail his tongue all the way down his shaft. He noses along Steve’s inner thigh, shamelessly burying his face in that thick thatch of chestnut hair. And then he deeply inhales the musky scent of Steve.

Steve groans, shallowly thrusting against Eddie’s cheek, the tip of his cock grazing Eddie’s ear, getting lost in his mane of hair.

A rope of drool connects Steve to Eddie, his tongue lolling from his mouth to rub against the side of Steve’s balls as he drinks in his smell. He dips his chin lower, until Steve’s dick is standing straight up, resting against his forehead.

The noise Steve makes is fucking sinful—completely wanton—as Eddie shoves his nose into Steve’s balls and breathes him in, committing everything to memory. His scent, his taste, his sounds, his face—everything.

Eddie isn’t sure if this will happen ever again. Isn’t sure if it’ll even be acknowledged. So he’s going to enjoy every goddamn minute while he’s so up close and personal with Steve’s cock.

“Ah—Jesus Christ. You are a freak, Munson.” Normally, those words might hurt. But Steve says them with such lust that it can’t possible be construed as anything but a compliment. Eddie wraps his hand back around Steve’s cock and starts pumping him with purpose, sucking his balls into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue. The wet, slurping sounds are totally lewd in the quiet air of the trailer. “Shit. Ohhh—shit. I’m close. I’m about to come.”

Eddie hums in encouragement, keeps his lips sealed around Steve’s balls. His hand flies above his face until he can feel how tight Steve’s balls get, can feel his cock pulsing in his hand.

He pops off, rests Steve’s cockhead onto his tongue, and jerks him off fast and dirty.

“Eddie—Eddie!” Steve’s thighs tense around Eddie’s middle. Cum surges from his slit into the back of Eddie’s throat in thick rivers, coating his tongue and teeth in sticky white release that he happily swallows down.

Fuck, Steve tastes good. Feels good. Sounds even better as he comes with Eddie’s name falling from his lips. Eddie closes his eyes and revels in the moment, lets himself savour the twitch of Steve’s dick as it empties into his mouth, the intrusion as he thrusts into Eddie’s throat, and the threat of himself gagging against it. He keeps swirling his tongue, even as Steve’s cum stops spurting. Even as his noises become high, and his body starts seizing with each flick against his sensitive tip.

Eddie desperately wants to make the moment last forever, doesn’t want to acknowledge that Steve is basically crying from overstimulation above him.

Finally, the fingers in Eddie’s hair tug him away. He whines at the sudden emptiness, wants to lean back in and feel Steve’s cock soften completely inside of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes are still blown and lustful, and strangely soft, as he says, “That was so fucking good.”

He smiles and gives Steve’s knees a squeeze as he leans back, his own shaking under his weight as he hauls himself back up onto the couch. He feels a little weird now that Steve came, because Eddie is still hard. Still wanting. But he also came once himself. Not from Steve’s hands but from his words, and it was enough. Maybe he should just tuck himself away and let this thing end naturally—

Before he can make a decision, Steve is reaching towards Eddie’s lap. “Is this okay?” he asks as he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie lets his gaze fall between his legs. His dick gets swallowed up by Steve’s big hands. He likes the way it looks so red as it peeks out from his fist.

“Is that a real question?” Eddie’s hands flounder in the air before they land on the couch cushions and bury themselves there, his nails digging into the upholstery as Steve starts fucking him with his hand.

“I knew you’d be good,” Steve says lowly. “Knew your hands and your lips would feel incredible. I can’t believe how hard you made me come. I wanna make you come like that.”

Eddie’s jaw swings open and his eyebrows knit together, and he thinks to himself that it’s not going to take long at all for Steve to get what he wants.

Steve leans forward, and for a second Eddie thinks he’s going to put his mouth on him, but he just lets a string of spit fall onto the tip of Eddie’s cock and gathers it with his hand, spreading it along his skin that moves in tandem with his strokes. It’s almost as good.

“Oh, Jesus—Steve.” Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve’s fingers tighten, forcing a bead of precum from his slit. “I’m gonna come again. Keep doing that. Keep—keep doing that!”

Steve nods, watching as he works Eddie back to the edge. Watching as he expertly rubs his thumb against the spot that makes Eddie see stars.

His second orgasm is stronger than his first. Eddie’s vision blurs out of focus—probably because his eyes are crossing—and the noise he makes sounds like an animal getting fucking murdered. The muscles in his torso tighten and tense and shudder as Steve enthusiastically jerks his dick, cum gathering in his fist, eyes watching with rapt attention.

Eddie’s body goes limp as Steve slowly lets go of him. When he’s able to focus his eyes, he notices that Steve is looking at his hand in fascination, watching Eddie’s cum stretch between his fingers as he scissors them.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” he says, bringing his wet hand up to his face. Steve smells his fingers, and then decides to bring them to his spit-slicked lips. One of his fingers pop into his mouth, and he hums around it, as if he’s actually enjoying the taste of Eddie’s release.

Yep. Eddie could definitely, without a doubt, go a third round.

But before his dick does something stupid like get stiff again, he tucks himself away. “And? What did you think?”

Steve pulls his finger from his mouth, grabbing an old napkin from the coffee table to wipe the rest of Eddie’s spend from them. “I think I was wrong.”

Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for Steve to start berating him or something for making him do something gay. Even though he’s pretty sure he wasn’t the one who initiated it.

But Steve just smiles and cocks his head to one side. “You definitely aren’t bad at dirty talk.”

A sigh of relief heaves from Eddie’s chest. He smacks Steve’s shoulder, but he smiles right along. “You’re a prick.”

As he stands to grab a towel from the bathroom, Steve calls behind him, “You seemed to like my prick.”

Eddie blushes ferociously. He catches his expression in the mirror and tries to wipe it away, but it’s impossible. He’s just bound to look like a totally fucked-out dipshit for the rest of his life, he guesses. As soon as the water runs warm, Eddie washes his hands and wets two towels. He cleans off his dick and his sticky thighs, and brings the second one to the gorgeous man who’s back to lounging on his living room couch.

“Did you?” Steve asks, taking the towel to better clean his fingers. When he shoves it down the front of his pants, Eddie adverts his eyes.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it?”

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “Yes, Steve, I enjoyed it. Fuck.”

“Good.”

Eddie sits next to Steve and tries not to let himself feel awkward. “Yeah. Good.”

“Want to watch Labyrinth now?” Steve casually digs into the bag he brought, grabs the VHS and wiggles it in front of Eddie’s face.

“Absolutely,” says Eddie.

They pop in the tape, and the TV screen glows blue before it starts playing through the ads. Steve sits next to Eddie, their thighs pressed up against each other, just like they had been before.

Steve reaches over and laces his fingers with Eddie’s. They stay like that for the whole movie.

_____

It’s been three days since Steve left. Since Eddie has even heard from him. Keith makes sure they don’t have many shifts together at Family Video (because they never got any work done), so it’s not uncommon that they go this long. But Eddie’s anxiety makes it feel like it’s the end of the fucking world.

God forbid he reach out to Steve himself.

But by the end of the third night, he gets a phone call.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, man.” Steve is on the other line, sounding chipper and unphased.

Maybe Eddie was overthinking it.

“Oh, hey!” he says, a little bit too enthusiastically. He dials it back a bit, clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just got off work. I have the afternoon off.”

“Sweet.” Eddie nervously twirls the chords between his fingers. Time to be brave. “Do you—maybe—want to hang out then?”

“Yeah. That’s why I called, actually. I stole Psycho III from Family Video. Want me to bring it over?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief. Things aren’t changing. Steve won’t estrange himself after what happened, because he’s a good person. Eddie doesn’t even know why he was worried in the first place.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

A few ticks go by, and then Steve quietly asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just wondering…”

Eddie waits, the suspense nearly killing him. “Wondering what, Steve?”

“…What are you wearing?”

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

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vhstown · 9 months

Text

time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

#miles 42 x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #42!miles x reader #atsv #prowler miles x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #vhstown

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heavenlyhischier · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry)

summary: after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other?

warnings: angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

note: this is part of my follower celebration! i'm so glad i finally wrote about the future captian of the vancouver canucks please guys im begging you.

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed.

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt.

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again.

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body.

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower.

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you.

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

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