Wheezy’s fanfiction archive

fanfic reblogging sideblog || 21 || recs and thoughts stored here|| main blog: @wheezyhyperfixates

[bee2124]

How it genuinely feels to still be reading fan fictions from fandoms I’ve been in since I was 12

[gaybybirth]

pretty white dress

BadBoy!Dabi x Innocent!Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: You're shelving books like normal at work when a new face comes into the store. And in a small town where everyone knows each other, a new face really stands out. Especially when it's one that makes you burn in ways you never have.

Warnings: nsfw, fluffy, and a smidge of angst content; lots of dirty talk, sexual tension, virgin!reader, reader has a praise kink, bit of humiliation/dabi mocks the reader, dabi really fucking likes messing and teasing with the reader like all the time, semi-public foreplay & almost getting caught, fingering, clit & nipple play, oral (both receiving), multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, smidge of overstimulation, dabi likes to bite the reader sometimes, choking, dabi's sweet sometimes, and first time sex for reader/dabi has a virginity kink

Word Count: 19k

A/N: Bad boy Dabi has taken over my thoughts. I would absolutely die for this man.

Dabi’s eyes were sharp—they always were. He was always observing, studying his surroundings like he was waiting. For what, you never knew. But he was always watching. And he watched you. 

It started when he came in the first time. He was with friends, but he wasn’t paying them any mind. He was looking around the bookstore—at the other customers, the employees, and occasionally the books. He didn’t hold much interest in those his friends approached. But when they passed the horror section, his focus shifted. 

You hadn't intended to stare, but you were shelving books at the other end of the bookcase, and he'd caught your eye. Dark clothes, dark hair, piercings that littered his features. Blue eyes that seemed to hold a world of mystery behind them and a smile that absolutely killed. 

And when he glanced up and caught you staring, he aimed that wicked grin right at you. 

You felt like you belonged in a vampire novel, dressed in some sheer white nightgown as the vampire love interest got ready to devour you. 

Then he winked, and the stomach-twisting, skin-tingling reaction you felt was deep. 

You were the first to look away, forcing yourself to return to work. Overly aware of how your hands shook, you took a steadying breath as you shelved book after book. But in the corner of your vision, you caught him picking up a book and pretending to read the back cover. But his eyes kept flickering back to you. His gaze was too hot to not notice. It felt like flames trickling down the back of your neck.

"(Y/N)!" Your manager said in your ear, and you jumped, almost pulling the little communicator earpiece out. "Can you hop on register? We're backed up a bit here."

You had to take a moment to catch your breath. For some unknown reason, you stole a peek at the dark-haired customer and he seemed personally amused at your reaction. Your cheeks burned as you glanced down at the cart and pressed the little button on your communicator. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You pushed the cart as out of the way as you could manage and tried not to move too awkwardly to the front. 

You were secretly grateful you'd been called up—you weren't liking how hot it was starting to feel in that row. Being behind the register helped satiate the tingling in your chest. Until you got the line of customers down, blinded by each person walking up to you before you could even flag them down. And then, when you glanced up to help the next person, the dark-haired stranger was standing right in front of you. 

“Hi,” you muttered—all your subconscious customer service script out the window. 

“Hi,” he purred. Purred. He handed you his book, his fingers covered in silver rings. 

You looked down at it and momentarily forgot you were supposed to ring it up. A horror book, a title you recognized only from having just shelved a copy. Mentally slapping yourself, you cleared your throat and scanned the barcode. 

“Uh, do you have a rewards card with us?” 

“No, I’m new to town.” His hand rested on the counter and he drummed his fingers. 

"Would you like to sign up for one?" You inhaled shakily. "I can do it for you right now or you can sign up later online. It's a fifteen-dollar annual charge."

“Next time.” 

“That works.” You nodded a little too much. “Want a bag?”

“Sure.” He gave you a small smirk and you felt it in your chest. 

"Okay, can do. Uh, that'll be nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents. Will that be cash or card?"

"Cash." He passed you a twenty and you muttered a thank you, fumbling with the change as the drawer opened. You were out of nickels so you had to either open a roll or go for pennies. With how nervous you felt, you opted for pennies. Until you dropped two of them after you'd closed your drawer and sighed. 

“Sorry,” you murmured and fell to your knees, fumbling to find the two that fell. Attempting a laugh, you got them and stood, giving him a tight smile as you passed him his change. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

His fingers grazed yours, and it was a striking contrast of warm skin and cold metal—it made your heart race. You almost jerked your hand back at the contact, but you seemed frozen in place until he pulled his hand away. 

“Thanks.” You slid his receipt into the cover of his book, then his book into the bag, and pushed it towards him. “Have a good day, sir.”

His eyes dropped down to the apron you wore as he took his bag. “You too, (Y/N).”

You bit your lip as you watched him leave, standing behind the register even when there were no customers left waiting. Five minutes—it was a total of five minutes between seeing him in the little aisle and at the register. And you felt too hot, and your heart was beating too fast. 

Your manager had to dismiss you before you collected yourself to go back to your cart. The rest of your shift flew by because you kept thinking back to the dark-haired stranger with the really blue eyes and the silver jewelry and the wicked smile. 

The desire to know more outweighed the nerves of meeting new people. And it was only the desire to know more—nothing else. 

Unfortunately, working at a bookstore meant you might not see him again for a while. So by the time you woke up for your shift the next morning, your hopes had dwindled. He was just another customer—someone you’d maybe see again in a month. He probably wouldn’t even remember you if he did come back. 

So you worked your whole shift telling yourself he wasn’t coming in. You weren’t going to see him again. He bought one book, he probably wouldn’t be back until he finished it. And if he was a slow reader, that could be weeks or months. If at all. 

A small part of you wished he'd still come in, and you subconsciously kept glancing towards the entrance. But he didn't come in. Not that shift, not the one the next day, and not the one the day after that. Thankfully, you had more luck focusing on literally anything else on your day off. You baked, procrastinated cleaning, read, and then grabbed dinner and a movie out of town with friends. 

It was a good day—it was nice. And then you were back home, asleep in bed and readying yourself to wake up for your next shift. 

You were tired. More tired than you liked for what was going to be a nine-hour shift. You went from shelving books to hopping on register the whole time—it was too much walking for how much you wanted to be at home and in bed. 

By hour eight, you were shelving books a little too slowly, tired of pushing the cart, so your manager put you on register. It was slow enough that you got to stand there and just unwind. Until you had to make yourself look busy, so you turned around and adjusted the magazines and books that were kept for display behind the counter. It was pointless trying to make it look perfect; nobody ever bought them. But it passed the time.

“Little to the left,” a voice said behind you and you jumped, spinning around and seeing those pretty blue eyes. He was holding up—unexpectedly—a book. “Hi again.”

“Hi,” you breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be…uh. Sorry. Let me get you checked out.”

He handed you his book and you scanned it, trying your best not to show your excitement at seeing him again. 

"Did you sign up for the rewards program?" You slid his book into a bag, and he shook his head. 

“Nah, forgot.”

"You know it does save you a fair bit of money." Most times, you would've just waved the customer along—they weren't interested, and your manager wasn't around for you to push the card. But you wanted to talk to him more. "Want me to sign you up?"

“Next time.” 

You nodded and totaled the order. “That’s what you said last time.”

He handed you the cash and shrugged. "You remember that interaction pretty well, don't ya." The implication went unsaid and your cheeks flushed. 

“We don’t get a lot of new faces—so the new folks tend to be more memorable.” It was the best cover you could come up with and you made his change. “Here you go, sir.”

“Dabi,” he said as he took the change. “Let you put a name to this new face.”

“Well, welcome to town, Dabi.” You held out a hand, leaning over the counter as smooth as you could manage. 

Dabi smirked and took your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Thanks.”

His hand lingered in yours, just as his glittering eyes and devious smirk did, and the sound of footsteps made you jerk it back. Fraternizing with the customers could get you in trouble. You rolled your shoulders and put your hands on Dabi's bag, pushing it towards him as your manager walked up behind you, moving to take a till from another register. 

Dabi cocked a brow as his eyes went from you to your manager, following them as they started to leave.

“Uh, have a good evening, sir,” you muttered and Dabi’s eyes finally went back to yours. 

“Yeah.” He took the bag. “You too.” 

You watched him leave yet again, wishing you hadn't been stuck behind a register so you could talk to him a little longer. But you were stuck there, your heart racing as he stole a glance back at you and winked. 

That night, when you got home and fell asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow, you got another glimpse of Dabi. It was nothing more than him coming up behind you at the bookstore, reaching over your shoulder for a book. His chest pressed against your back and he cocked his head to the side as he read the back blurb. 

"Interesting," he breathed beside your ear. He turned the cover over but in its place was a mirror, showing your reflection. He rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked into the mirror. His mouth grazed your neck and his eyes were a sharper, devilish blue as he looked at you. "Like what you see?"

You woke up as you felt his hand slide onto your waist. 

Shaking your head and running your hands over your face, you got up and got ready for the day. 

You saw him four more times after that. That day, the next, and twice a few days later. Three consisted of him coming to your register or the one next to it. The one time he didn't, your coworker was riddled speechless and stuttered through their words worse than you did. 

Each of those three times, he said hello, goodbye, and see you later. You tried not to get your hopes up that maybe he wasn't just coming to your register because he liked you as a cashier. Or that his smiles were just him being polite—the same way yours were for every other customer. Which was why you tried your best to differentiate it. 

Although it wasn't hard to do whenever you got a little shy when he came around. He made you nervous in ways you weren't used to but secretly liked. He was handsome, he was a person you hadn't known all your life, and he drove you absolutely wild in ways you didn't even let yourself explore behind closed doors. 

You just hoped the flirting was reciprocated, and it wasn't you embarrassing yourself every time he came in. 

But then the fourth time rolled around, and you found him getting a coffee from the small cafe the store had. He glanced up as you pushed a cart from the back, and he smirked as your eyes locked. 

“Hi.” You stopped beside him as he sauntered up. There was still a ways to go to the horror section, but Dabi was right there. “You either must really neglect your books, or you're a very fast reader with how often you come in here."

“I wonder.” He nodded at the cart. “Where you headed?”

“Horror.” 

“Care for some company?”

“Sure.” 

Dabi walked beside you, occasionally sipping his drink until you got to the section. He hung back a bit as you set the cart in place and started to do what you were supposed to. But it was hard when every time you walked by Dabi, his eyes glanced up and watched you. 

"It's neither." He peered over his shoulder as you grabbed another group of books from the cart, and you stopped, brows furrowed. 

“What is?” 

“Why I come to the bookstore.” He put the book back and his mouth tipped into a smirk. “I like the company. Far better than any book.”

Your entire body burned as Dabi's eyes slowly dropped down to your mouth. He didn't even move—all he was doing was looking at you and looking damn good while he did it—and it went directly south. A twisting sensation was building and you realized you were breathing a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m finding I like the company more these days than normal.” You bit your lip and Dabi tipped his chin up. 

“(Y/N).” 

You jumped as the manager on duty for the afternoon came up beside you, looking between you and Dabi. He was significantly more strict than the other managers, and you cringed. You didn't want any marks—you were a good worker, you'd proved that the past three years you worked there. But he was strict. 

“You shouldn’t be fraternizing on the job. We have an upkeep to maintain, you know this. Don’t make me remind you again.”

“Right. Sorry, sir. I—”

“She’s helping me find a book.” Dabi wasn’t a big guy—his frame was lean and if he was toned, it was hidden under his dark coat and clothes. But he took up space and dominated it like a bigger person would. He gave the manager a sickening smile. The innocence looked wrong on him. “Didn’t mean to steal her away.”

There was a pointless challenge issued there. Either cause a scene and call Dabi out on the lie—which would also anger a customer—or just accept it and move on. The manager went with the latter, nodding and telling you to carry on. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you grabbed more books to shelve. “But I appreciate it.”

“I’m aware. You weren’t going to, so I figured I should.” 

“I wasn’t going to what? Lie?” 

"Oh, don't tell me you don't lie." Dabi gave you a skeptical look, and you frowned. 

“Not when it isn’t necessary. Lies stack up. Besides, I panicked. I’ve worked here long enough for them to know I don’t break the rules.”

"Ever?" His eyes widened, and he scoffed. "You don't break the rules here?"

“I…don’t usually break rules.” You glanced away. “I don’t like being a troublemaker.” 

Dabi nodded, stepping closer, his finger dragging along the shelves until he was right beside you. He pretended to look at the spines of the books, angling until his shoulder touched yours. 

“You’re a goody-two-shoes.” He chuckled under his breath and you latched onto it. “That’s adorable.” 

“I am not.” You narrowed your eyes—the books were out of order on the shelf. “It’s just easier avoiding conflict. Besides, I’m like the best employee here and everyone knows it. I like that.”

“Oh.” Dabi’s smirk deepened. “So you like to be praised.” 

“I didn’t say that. No, see, it’s about proving my worth—”

"Uh-huh." Dabi leaned a little closer and your hands twitched as you rearranged the books to the correct order. "So, let's say I'm your manager and I notice you handled a difficult customer well. You wouldn't like it at all if I pulled you aside and praised you for it?" 

Your chest felt a little tight at the thought, making it hard to speak. 

"Little hard to imagine you as my manager. Don't know if you could pull off the apron." You purposefully put some space between you, going back to get more books as the air turned hot and got unreasonably thicker.

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

When you returned, it was only about an inch away from Dabi, and he turned his back to the shelves, leaning against them casually. 

“If I pulled you aside and said ‘you handled that well, atta girl,” you wouldn’t like it?” He tilted his head towards you, his eyes glinting as they met yours. “Or maybe you’d prefer ‘good girl’ instead.”

You dropped the book you were holding and Dabi smirked as you frantically went to pick it up. 

You couldn’t speak for a few moments—the man had stolen the ability. With your heart ready to burst from your chest and a growing desire between your legs that ached for something to satiate it, you were fighting a losing battle. And Dabi knew it. The wicked smirk he gave you was like he could practically read your mind. 

So you tried to hold your ground. 

“I’d say it’d be condescending.” But you weren’t a liar. “From my other managers. I think from you, I could make an exception.”

"So then you admit it." He reached up and turned you to look at him, his fingers lightly grazing your chin and then your jaw. "You like to be praised."

“Fine,” you muttered, breath stolen. “Maybe I do.”

“Loves praise, doesn’t lie, and hates breaking the rules.” Dabi scoffed and pushed himself up from the bookcase. He leaned close and his fingers skimmed down your neck. “What a good girl.”

He was halfway down the aisle when you finally took a breath. It was shaky and you felt the twisting need rip all the way through your body as you watched him leave. 

“You work tomorrow?” He spun, eyes dragging over your frame. 

“Twelve to eight.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

You’d never looked forward to a shift more. 

Even if the current one took an eternity to end. It was annoying trying to work when all you kept doing was replaying Dabi’s words. You could get drunk off of him calling you good girl. It sounded really good coming from him. From anyone else, you’d cringe or even snap back. But his stuck with you into your dreams where he whispered it over and over. Nothing was even happening—it was just him telling you how good of a girl you were for him. 

Then he was there the next day at one, buying another coffee, finding you at your cart. His eyes looked bluer, and he'd changed his piercings out—still silver like his rings, but sword and skull earrings hung from either ear and he'd painted his nails black. 

He slid up behind you, stealing the book that was right over your shoulder. It was a romance novel and you almost laughed had he not spoken first.  

“Afternoon, good girl. Sleep well?”

He had to be a mind reader. 

“Fine. And you, fine and loyal customer?” 

“Slept great.” He sat the book back and leaned against the shelves again. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“Should I give you my schedule? I can let the store know I have an official stalker.” You tried your best teasing smile, but you were still recovering from his good girl greeting. 

“Schedule would work, sure.” He met your gaze. “Wanted to see if you were free tomorrow evening.” 

You sat the books down and bit your lip, desperately trying to control your heart. “And why would you want to know that?”

"New in town. Was hoping you could show me the best place to visit." 

“There are a few places I could show you.” You sucked in your cheeks and went back to shelving. “Don’t know if any of them are your style, but I know some places.” 

“Dinner then. Meet me here at six.” 

“Here?” You looked around the store. “You want to meet here?”

“Well, I want to drive you.” He pushed up and walked around you. “But I don’t want you to think I’m actually stalking you.”

“Fine, dinner.” You were trying to hold back your smile. Dinner didn’t mean it was a date. “Wear something nice. Just in case.”

“Deal.” He raised his cup as he backed out of the aisle. “See you tomorrow night.” 

"Yeah, see ya." 

Excitement roared through you, and you almost dropped the next set of books you picked up. You had a potential date with Dabi. A date with Dabi! You weren't usually someone who squealed from happiness—at least not in public—but it was a fight not to do it a few times at work. Every time the thought came back to you, you wanted to jump for joy. 

Actually getting to spend time with him outside of work was insanely exciting. Yeah, there was the worry you wouldn't get along or there wouldn't be any chemistry. But that was low on your list of concerns, considering how just the one conversation stuck with you until you went home and went to bed. 

There was also the worry that Dabi only wanted one thing from you—but he wouldn't have come back day after day just for sex. Or he was just extremely dedicated. Now that thought stayed with you, but not in the ways you'd been expecting. You'd been on dates where your partner expected sex. But those were always bad dates. They lasted one or two times, they were awkward, and way too heavy-handed. 

You weren’t against sex or a one-night stand, but all the prospects had been so…uninspiring. Boring. 

There was no spark. 

And you needed a spark. A spark ensured a sort of insurance for your insecurities. But Dabi didn’t need to know about those, not until you got to the money shot. If at all. You could try and fake it—probably. 

If there was a spark—and you were fairly certain there was going to be—you had nothing to worry about. Even if that’s all Dabi wanted. You weren’t that old-fashioned. 

You couldn’t find anything to wear. You ransacked your closet trying to find something that was just right, but there was nothing. It was already three, and you'd gone through so many different outfits you were going to drive yourself insane. If you weren't already there. 

So you bit the bullet and drove to the closest clothing store—a small boutique about five miles away that had an assortment of different clothes. They were in the middle of restocking when you got there, making their sizes extremely varied from item to item, and the few things you did find and like weren’t in your size. 

Not the black romper or the purple blouse or the flowy red skirt. 

But then there was a little white sundress. The sales clerk that you'd managed to bond with during the extent of your time there—it was just the two of you in there, after all—held it up. You came out of the dressing room with a frown, dissatisfied with the previous ill-fitting items when she held up the sundress. 

"How about this?" She handed the spaghetti strap dress to you and you eyed it carefully. You'd intended on taking Dabi to a hole-in-the-wall Italian joint—white clothes didn't always go well with red sauce—but the dress was really cute. "My girlfriend swears by sundresses for date nights—they're easy to dress up or down. Guess I do too because she always rocks them."

"Let me try it." You smiled, slipping back behind the curtain.

It was a little tight in places but it was the places you could get away with that. Specifically in the chest, and since it was slightly low cut, it accentuated your cleavage. It hugged your figure a bit along your torso and flowed out around your hips. And when you spun, the skirt flared beautifully. 

It was a bit see-through, though. You were wearing pale pink underwear and it was very clear what color they were. So you led with that when you stepped out, the sales clerk beaming when she saw you.

“That’s it, that’s the one.” She held up her hands. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make a sale—that dress just looks damn good on you.”

"Yeah but…" You angled your hip forward and the sales clerk pursed their lips.

“Got any white underwear at home? You should be fine with that.”

“I don’t.” You owned about every color of underwear under the sun except white. 

“One sec, hold on.” She ran into the back for a minute, and when she returned, she was holding a white bra and underwear set that made your cheeks burn. “Now, it’s a little spicy, but…if you look good underneath, your confidence will, too." 

“Alright, let me try it on.”

You ended up getting the set. The bra had a bit of a push-up effect, accentuating your chest even more in the dress. And the underwear was a sheer and thin lace, so when the fabric fell over you, even under direct lighting, there weren't lines or any color sneaking through. If you pulled the skirt back, though, the little bow on the front was visible. But odds were that wasn't going to happen, so you paid it no mind. 

You slid on some black strappy sandals and grabbed a red purse to carry your stuff. A glance in the mirror showed that the sales clerk hadn’t just been hyping you up for a sale. You looked damn good. 

You looked damn good and you had a night planned to prove it to Dabi. 

Excited and practically bubbling over with excitement and nerves, you drove over to the bookstore, slipping out of your car just a few minutes before six. 

Dabi was already there, waiting outside the front, and you swallowed your nerves as you approached him. He wore his black dress-shirt way too well. Dressed in all black, he looked like the vampire version of him that you'd thought of the first time you saw him. The skull-themed rings and jewelry did nothing but accentuate that image in your mind. 

And you wore the white dress and all. 

“Wow.” He pushed up from the wall, hands sliding out of his pockets. “I wondered what you looked like outta that apron, but my imagination did not do you justice. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Your body flushed. “You look good too.”

“So tell me,” he murmured as he sauntered up to you. “Where am I taking you tonight?” 

"Let's go, and I'll show you." 

Despite Dabi being a man of few words, the small talk was fairly easy as you walked to his small car. A small black four-door with a navy and gray interior. You sat comfortably in the passenger seat, even if the small space put you close to Dabi, your eyes occasionally dropping to where his hand rested on the shifter. His thumb ran over the leather knob and you were scaring yourself with what that did to you. 

“Left here,” you blurted after staring a little too long at it. “And you can park in the small parking lot on the right.”

Luckily, Dabi liked Italian. So you’d picked well. He got your door for you, which surprised you, and his hand went to your back as you walked towards the entrance. He whispered after you as he opened the front door and you smiled at the hostess. It may have been small, but you’d called ahead and set a reservation just to be safe. Dabi grinned behind you, hand returning to your back, acting as the only physical contact he’d given you so far. 

And you wanted more. 

It was sort of awkward when you got seated. You were at a two-person table in the corner, setting it up to very clearly look and feel like a date when you hadn't discussed the nature of the outing. But Dabi seemed unbothered, looking over the menu silently and ordering easily when the waiter took your drink order. 

The conversation wasn’t bad, but you were overly aware of how hard you were trying to not come off as an excited interrogator. You wanted to know more about him, but you didn’t want him to feel like you were asking for his life story. But Dabi answered the questions with a sly smile each time. 

He was in town for college. It was cheaper to stay with a friend locally and drive to the campus than paying for all the on-campus amenities. He tutored students in chemistry on the weekends, and worked part-time on campus some days. He lived on the other side of town, and he'd moved in two days before you met at the bookstore, his friends showing him around. 

“I was told that was the only spot worthwhile on this side of town.” He sipped his drink. “Glad I listened to them.”

His eyes were darker under the romantic lighting of the restaurant. And they were doing things to you that you couldn’t explain. 

"So, is this where you take all your dates?" He cocked a brow when another worker walked by and said hello to you—marking the fourth time someone there had greeted you by name. 

“No, no. It’s just close to my house and I like the food.” You held up your hands, the words stammering out. It was hard to ignore Dabi—whether purposefully or accidentally—referring to himself as your date. “I swear, I just eat too much takeout.”

Dabi grinned and sat back as his plate of noodles was set in front of him. You mimicked him as your own was sat down. 

“Besides, I don’t really date anymore.” You nodded as the waiter added some fresh Parmesan to your dish. “Kinda hard to in a small town like this. I tried it, it didn’t work out, so I stopped.” 

“Oh, so I’m a special case.” Dabi’s grin widened. 

“You…” You bit your lip and peered up at him. “You are a special case. I actually like spending time with you.”

Dabi’s eyebrows raised and you sat up a bit straighter. 

"Wait, that came off more pretentious than I intended." You sat your fork down. "That's not what I meant. No, the previous guys I went out with just weren't…compatible. There wasn't that spark or attraction and then when there was, it was minuscule and they tried way too hard to act on it and so they kinda shot themselves in the foot."

“How’d they manage that?” Dabi sat back and tipped his chin up. 

“What?” You blinked at him, fork half raised to your mouth. 

“You said they shot themselves in the foot.” He took another sip of his drink. “I’m curious how. I’d hate to repeat their mistakes.”

Your mouth closed around your fork, and you chewed slowly, buying yourself some time. That wasn't talk you typically did in a small restaurant where there were others around you. Granted, not all the tables around you were occupied, but it still felt weird discussing it in such a public place.

You swallowed the bite and wiped the corners of your mouth with your napkin. 

“They were…overzealous about…” You opened and closed your mouth. You weren’t against telling Dabi, but from past experiences, the thought of it made anxiety twist in your gut. “Behind closed doors stuff.”

Dabi looked utterly amused by your wording. “So they expected sex.”

“Yes. No.” You could cook on your cheeks they felt so hot. “I don’t mind that, it was that they turned into this white knight, overconfident version of themselves when they found out that I’m…”

You couldn’t exactly blurt it out as your waiter walked by or the hostess sat a family nearby. But you didn’t have to. The recognition on Dabi’s features set in and nerves settled in you. His smile never faded and neither did his amusement. There was a hint of surprise, but that was all he gave you as he took his next bite. 

“So you really are a goody-two-shoes.” He grinned when you choked on your drink. “Nothing wrong with having standards.”

“Hey.” You sat your fork down. “It’s not like I’m protecting it like some fragile flower. I just want it to be with someone where I’m not trying to pretend there’s an attraction.”

“Well, attraction will make it easier.” Dabi gave you a knowing smirk and you crossed your legs. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered with yourself.”

When you can’t muster up a response, Dabi sat up and that’s when the surprise really took over. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never—”

“Sometimes.” You had your eyes fixed on your plate and moved what little remained of your food around. “Just not…often.” 

The waiter came back and when they asked for dessert, you both declined. Your stomach was in knots so you weren’t sure you could handle more food. Dabi, you assumed, probably had his focus shifted on something else entirely. 

"I'm not…experienced…in that department," you said softly when your waiter left to get the check. You hated how it made you feel, and this was where every guy had overshot. Determined to teach you everything or tell you to sit back and relax, they'd rock your world for you. "Kind of hard to be when everyone here is nosy. Can't buy anything without someone else knowing, and can't go on any dates without guys getting way too cocky about…it.”

Dabi nodded, staying silent as the waiter came back. You tried to cover the check, but Dabi stopped you, throwing a fifty down. He didn't say anything until the waiter took it and left. 

“You’re insecure about it.” 

That hit you right in the chest and you bit back your response until Dabi got his change, a tip was left, and you rose from your seats. You walked a little stiffly from your table until Dabi’s hand found your back again. It stayed like that until you left, walking towards his car in the empty parking lot. 

"I'm embarrassed." You settled into his passenger seat, and he started the car. The cool air from the vents felt nice against your skin. "Not the being a virgin part, but what's come with that."

“The right partner won’t care about that.” 

“I know. Hence the need for a spark.”

Dabi put his car into reverse, and you watched his hand on the shifter. Again.

“Like there is between us?” He glanced over and you met his gaze with a panic. 

“What?”

"Earlier, you said 'the previous guys' never had the spark." His smirk was evil. “I read between the lines.”

It was dangerous territory to navigate. You weren't sure what Dabi was implying. Because if the feeling was one-sided, you weren't sure if you'd survive the embarrassment. You barely were about discussing your lack of a sex life. If Dabi felt nothing towards you after the dinner and was getting you to spill all your secrets like this, you'd crawl into a hole and never come out. 

You also didn’t want to imply you were only going out with him to finally get laid. 

"You…there's…" Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you studied his profile. "You're one of the few customers I don't hate seeing regularly." 

“Ouch, just a customer?” Dabi reached over and fixed one of your straps as you shifted in the seat. “And here I thought I’d at least been upgraded to a date.”

His fingers against your shoulder were almost too much. It was such an innocent touch but it went straight between your legs and you pressed your knees together. It was supposed to be subtle but the way Dabi's eyes shot down to your lap told you he was extremely aware of it. 

Unable to hold his gaze when he glanced back from the road to you, you looked out the window. You recognized the ride back to the bookstore, and a portion of you felt disappointed—he was ending the date. You’d had a few other ideas in mind, but it seemed dinner was enough. 

And then his hand fell to your thigh, just below your hem, hand burning hot against your skin. 

Your legs parted subconsciously and Dabi absolutely fucking grinned. 

His thumb ran light lines along your inner thigh, and his hand shifted up just barely and caused your dress to bunch a bit. You couldn't take your eyes off it. He was so close yet still frustratingly far from where you were getting wetter by the second. 

“You are,” you said when you realized you hadn’t responded. “Upgraded to a date.”

“One with a spark?” 

Your exhale was shaky.

“Yeah, one with a spark.”

Dabi parked a few spaces away from your car—it was near the back of the lot where employees typically parked. His hand moved to put his car in park, and you immediately missed the contact. 

"So, if I asked about seeing you again this weekend, you'd be interested?" 

“I work until three Saturday and close Sunday, but yeah. I’m interested.” 

“After work Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up.” 

“You going to take me out in my work clothes? I don’t know if jeans and a polo are date appropriate.” You chuckled softly. “It was a struggle finding an outfit for tonight. I had to buy a whole damn set just to wear under this dress.” 

Dabi’s breath hitched and his eyes dropped from your chest to your lap. 

“Did you?” 

“The dress is very see-through,” you muttered. He was practically undressing you with his eyes and you flexed your thighs. His hand wasn’t there to stop you and Dabi’s eyes narrowed. 

He took a deep breath. “Saturday. Meet me at the old theater in town at four. I won’t make you sit through a movie in your uniform.” 

It wasn’t a dismissal, but the topic change was obvious enough to tell you what Dabi was thinking about. It was no secret to yourself that part of the reason you agreed to buy the set was because you hadn’t dismissed the thought of Dabi seeing it. 

And you really wanted Dabi to see it.

“Wanna see it?” 

Your breathing was quick and Dabi’s hands tensed on his steering wheel. When he said nothing, you moved your hands to the bottom of your dress and started to lift it. The setting sun was coming through his windshield directly over you, and it was hard to ignore how that light basically acted as a spotlight right on your lap. Meaning whatever the lace pretended to cover in the shadows wouldn’t be. 

But Dabi grabbed your wrist just before you could flash him. 

“I do, but not here.” He peered up as a group of people walked by, bags of books hanging from their hands. “I want to be the only one to see it.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even noticed the people and you looked away. The thought of them almost seeing made the embarrassment double and you let go of your skirt. 

“Wear it Saturday.” His other hand came up and cupped your jaw. “This dress, too. Can you do that for me?”

“You want me to wear this again?” Your eyes dropped to his mouth and Dabi smirked. 

There was a pause before he leaned forward and closed the gap, his mouth pressing against yours. His smirk remained when you gasped against his lips, and his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You'd made out with someone before, but it'd always been so desperate on their behalf. This wasn't that. This was slow and deliberate. Like he knew each second his mouth was on yours, how his tongue touched you, how his hand slid down over your jaw and to your neck, made you want to squirm.

No, you were squirming. Moaning a bit, too. 

You crossed your legs to try and satiate the growing pressure and it took all of a second for Dabi’s hand to fall to your knee. 

“Open them,” he practically commanded against your mouth. When you didn’t immediately comply, he repeated himself. “Open your legs, (Y/N).” 

You did, and Dabi swerved at the same time, mouth trailing down your neck. His teeth grazed your jugular as his hand slid up your thigh. But he didn’t touch you—he stopped short. You had to bite back the whine you almost let out, on the verge of begging for him to touch you. 

“How inexperienced are you?” He pulled the strap of your dress to the side and kissed along where it’d been. 

“I…” You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. It also wasn’t easy to say when he had you wound so tight that you thought you were going to burst if he didn’t touch you. “I’ve done some stuff.”

"I need specifics." He lifted his head and kissed beneath your ear. "Like if I were to sneak my fingers into that pretty cunt of yours right now, would I be the first?" 

You shivered—visibly shivered—and Dabi laughed against your neck. 

“Dirty talk and praise kink.” His hand shifted on your leg ever so slightly. “Dirty girl.” 

“Hey, I—”

“Answer my question, (Y/N).” He dug his teeth against your shoulder and kissed the indentations he left. “How inexperienced?”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, enjoying how his hair tickled your neck. 

“You’d be the first.” You swallowed hard. “I’ve only done over the clothes stuff.”

Dabi cursed against your neck and his hand lifted from your leg and slammed against the dashboard. 

“And do you want to do that with me?” He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours. His pupils were blown and he licked his lips as he waited. 

“Yes.” You glanced down at your lap for a second, then back up. “I want to do more than that with you.” 

"I can work with that." He leaned in and gave you another kiss before he forced himself back and slid out of the driver's seat. He got your door and helped you out, pressing you against it as soon as he had it shut. His mouth stole another long, heated kiss. "Wear this again Saturday."

“I will.”

“Good girl,” he whispered against your lips. “Four o’clock, old theater. Don’t be late.” 

“I won’t.” You staggered away from his car, your knees weak. 

“Oh.” He grabbed your wrist and hauled you back, an arm wrapping around your waist as he held you against him. “And don’t go touching yourself before then. I want to be the one to make you cum.” 

"Okay," you breathed, eyes a bit wide, and Dabi grinned. 

“Atta girl.”

He watched you get into your car, not leaving until you did. It took you a second to drive because you were wound so tight. Replaying the scene only made it worse. But you replayed it all the way home—it was hard not to.

He'd been so close to touching you and the way he fucking devoured you with that kiss was cruel. You would've let him fuck you in the back of his car if he wanted. That was dangerous—you were getting drunk on his actions and he hadn't even done anything besides kiss you and talk a little dirty. 

You took a long, freezing shower when you got home. Stayed in there until you were shivering and covered in goosebumps. But it barely helped. You were still hard thinking about him when you got into bed. You dreamed of him too. Of his hand sneaking up where you wanted it. Teasing your clit through your underwear, whispering about how badly you wanted his fingers in you. 

You woke up soaked. So soaked that you had to take another shower. And for the first time in a while, you actually wanted to take some time and alleviate the pressure between your legs. But the desire to hear Dabi call you his good girl again was bigger. Even if that only made it harder to keep your hands away from your cunt. 

You went to work horny and wired. It was fucking awful.

Especially when Dabi came in halfway through to get a coffee and found you in the romance section again. 

“Hi,” he purred behind you. 

“Hi,” you muttered back. He looked really good in his v-neck, exposing a sliver of his chest. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” You were trying to hide your anticipation for whatever he had planned. A movie, that part was obvious. But he wanted you to wear the dress and underwear set again. That meant there had to be more, right?

“And have you been a good girl?” 

Your eyes locked and you held your breath as a customer walked behind you, looking at the books on the shelves just a few cases down. He cocked a brow, still expecting an answer. 

“Yes, sir,” you answered in your most polite customer service voice. 

"Good." He stepped behind you, hand coming to gently squeeze your waist. In a lower voice, barely audible to you, he added, "keep that up, and I'll reward you for it tomorrow." 

He winked before leaving, a silent see you tomorrow. You barely heard the customer beside you when they asked for assistance. 

You were distracted for the rest of the shift, during your attempt at chores after work, even through your cold shower, and the entirety of the next day. You tried to help the customers as much as possible—that always made the shifts go by faster—but you kept going back to thinking about Dabi. It was increasingly hard not to. 

Especially as three o'clock got closer and closer until you could finally clock out. You rushed home, desperate to get ready and not look like you'd spent the day at work. You rinsed off under cold water to give yourself a fighting chance before slipping back into your now clean clothes from your first date.

Dabi was once again waiting outside when you rolled up to the old theater. It was showing three different movies. An action, a horror, and a romance. About as cliche as the theater could get, and Dabi held up two tickets as you approached. They were for the horror movie that started in about thirty minutes. 

"Hey there, pretty lady," he said, his hand skillfully sneaking into yourself as you walked into the theater. 

"Hi." You liked the feeling of his rings as he held your hand, and Dabi laughed when he caught you staring. 

"Oh, come on, I know you're not that inexperienced. You've had someone hold your hand before." He smirked before handing the tickets off to the same employee that'd been working there the past twenty years, and she didn't even need to glance up to tell you where your theater was. 

"I have. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." 

"C'mon. Let's get snacks." 

Popcorn, a shared drink, and a handful of napkins. You held the drink and led Dabi towards your theater. But as soon as you entered, he side-stepped and pulled you into a corner. There were maybe two or three other people in the theater, and they were near the center. It wasn't like the theater was big, but you were practically sectioned off in the corner, away from the few whispering people. 

“Bear with me.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t do the best with horror. I don’t get like super scared or anything, but the jump scares always get me.”

Dabi grinned, his thumb running over the back of your hand. "Don't worry. You probably won't be that focused on the movie anyway."

“What does that mean?” 

“Exactly what I said.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. “You do as I asked?” 

You blinked at him for a moment before it hit you, and you glanced away. "Yeah."

“You didn’t touch yourself at all?”

"Dabi." You motioned towards the people sitting near the center, and Dabi just continued to grin.

"They can't hear." He leaned a little closer as the lights started to dim, and a few commercials flickered onto the projector screen. 

“No. I didn’t,” you said once the sound started to play from the speakers. “I had to take a few cold showers to help, too.”

“Poor girl,” he murmured as his hand slid from yours and went to your knee. “I’ll make up for that, don’t worry.”

“You will?” You studied his unreadable expression and he reached over, turning you to face the screen as another commercial started. “How so?”

“I’m not fucking you tonight.” He kissed your jaw, then your neck. “We’re taking this slow.”

“So, there’s a this?” You were trying not to gasp as Dabi dragged his teeth over your ear. 

“Wouldn’t have invited you out again if there wasn’t.” Dabi’s hand slid up your leg. 

“So then…how?” Your breath hitched as the skirt of your dress bunched around Dabi’s wrist. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“We’re going to do some over the clothes stuff.” His hand shifted and he cupped your cunt, making sure to grab as much of your dress as possible to act as an infuriating barrier between his hand and you. “After the movie.” 

He gave you one squeeze before moving his hand, sitting back as the previews started and his other hand rested lazily on your knee. He was grinning as you verbally fought to catch your breath. When you tried to close your legs to get some pressure relief, Dabi's grip tightened and he kept your legs open. 

And that was the position you stayed in during the movie. He was right. You didn’t pay attention to the previews and you didn’t pay attention to the movie. It was too difficult to when Dabi’s hand occasionally slid up your leg, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin. Or when he started playing with the hem of your dress. 

He’d get close to your cunt, making sure your dress touched it but not his fingers. And that was all he gave you. Little grazes of your dress that drove you wild. Nobody else had ever done this to you—nobody had ever made you react this way to them. And he knew it too, he was extremely aware of every little reaction you gave him. 

He had you wound so tight by the end of the movie, you couldn’t move. But he wasn’t waiting for you to tell him, he was standing and giving you a look that said I know you’re wet, but I’m going to pretend like I sat there the whole time not almost touching you. 

You were walking towards the back of the building, enjoying the fresh air, when you remembered you were at the theater. 

“Wait, Dabi, you said after the movie. But where are we—”

Dabi pressed you against the wall of the theater, the old brick making the fabric of your dress snag. His mouth pressed against yours as he snuck a leg between yours, pushing just enough of his weight against your cunt. 

“Right here.” 

“But…” He kissed you again, a little harder before he was leaving kisses on your neck again. “People might see.”

"You weren't worried about that in my car when you were going to flash me." His hands fell to your hips, and he guided you along his thigh. "Getting so shy now?"

The sudden friction against your cunt had you throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. Dabi chuckled, watching you move your hips on your own, chasing what friction the act gave you. You attempted to remain quiet and even semi-polite, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you even if you'd found yourself at the back of the building, away from the typical crowds. But Dabi wasn't having it.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “So needy for contact. Has anyone ever touched your cunt before?” 

You whined in response, but that wasn't enough of an answer for Dabi.

“Teased that clit until you begged them to finally actually touch you?" He moved his leg, lifting one of yours with his hand under your knee and pressing you back against the wall. Only a small fraction of your dress covered your cunt and you closed your eyes as Dabi pulled back and glanced down. He used one finger to lift your dress and he sucked in a slow breath at the sight. "You weren't kidding. It's real sheer.” 

You kept your eyes shut, trying to balance on one leg as Dabi kept you spread. You were trying to hear for any potential people coming, but your focus was pulled in too many directions. 

“Hold it up.” He guided your hand down and put your dress into your fist. “Keep it like that unless I say otherwise, understood?”

The warmth and desire that spread over you were hard to control. Dabi had you with your dress up in public—nobody else would ever be able to manage that. 

“Mhm.” You were shaking from more than anticipation. 

"That's my girl," he murmured, and he dragged his thumb over your cunt. "So fuckin' wet and so easily.”

His thumb ran a single line over your cunt until he decided to really have some fun. He found your clit, pressing his thumb against it and running slow, deliberate circles. It fucking shot fireworks off in you and he was barely touching you.

“Show me the bra.” 

"What?" Your eyes opened, just barely. It was a struggle when Dabi's thumb kept working your clit.

“Pull the top of your dress down and show me the bra.” 

“But we’re—”

"(Y/N)," he whispered, pushing your leg a little higher and working his thumb a little faster. "I got you spread eagle, gushing into my hand. Someone walks by, they're gonna see me teasing this pretty cunt of yours. Don't think it'll matter if the top of your dress is up or down."

You bit your lip, hesitating as you brought your free hand up to pull the top down. The second you did, Dabi smirked and leaned forward, kissing the newly exposed parts of your chest. It was only a few inches between what the dress covered and what the bra didn’t, but Dabi gobbled it up. 

“Get another question for you.” Dabi bit down on one of the cups and pulled back slightly. If he looked down, he’d see in, but he kept his eyes firmly on yours. 

“W-What’s that?” 

“Over the clothes stuff means nobody’s ever tasted that sweet cunt, have they?” 

“I…” Your head fell back against the wall. “No, they haven’t.”

"What a shame." He switched his thumb for his fingers, getting a more precise touch and you used your free arm to hug him closer. "Never had anyone hold your hips down and lick that clit until you cry." 

You were getting close and you could hear a group of people closer than the last few that'd walked by the building. Which meant they were close to you, which meant they could walk by you. They could see you—they would see you. But you were getting so close. 

“Dabi.” It was a warning for both. “I’m…and people are…”

"I'm not stopping until you cum." He dragged his tongue over your collarbone. "So you better cum quick or they're gonna see how needy you are for me. Couldn't even wait until we got to your bedroom to get off." 

He changed the angle of your leg slightly and that was it—that put his fingers exactly where you needed them. The sounds of the people were getting closer. You figured you had about thirty seconds, but you only needed about ten. Struggling under Dabi's hold, you buried your face in his neck as your orgasm hit you hard enough to whine—making you forcibly silence yourself as much as you could. 

You trembled against him as you tried to hold onto him, his fingers not stopping as your hips twitched up from the wall. 

You'd never cum that hard before. You'd never cum from someone else before. 

"Good girl, that's it, cumming so hard for me," he murmured in your ear. 

“Dabi.” It was a plea this time and he moved his fingers, pulling your top up after setting your leg down. 

He jerked you against him, face against his shoulder, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He was letting out the first puff as the group of people walked past, hand gently running along your arm as you silently panicked in his hold. 

When they passed, Dabi pulled you back, cigarette between his fingers as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. 

“See?” Dabi’s hand slid into yours. “Didn’t get caught.” 

"Came close," you muttered, panting and swaying on shaking legs, and Dabi just smirked. 

“Yeah, and you came pretty hard cause of it.” He stopped as you got to the front of the theater. “Next time, it’ll be around my fingers.” 

You already wanted that now. Even with wobbly legs, you wanted to drag him to his car and let him do whatever he wanted to you. 

“Next time?” You were trying to play coy, but you sounded exactly how you felt: horny. 

"Yeah." Dabi nodded. "Next time, I'm going to fucking ruin you."

You tripped over your own feet as you walked towards the parking lot. Dabi caught you and chuckled. 

“Why not right now?” You spotted his car and pulled him towards it. “Ruin me, right now.”

“What,” he purred as he pushed you back against his back door. “Want me to fuck you right here in my car?”

“Maybe I do.” 

“(Y/N).” He slid his hand between your legs and pressed your clit. “When I fuck you, I want to see every inch and hear every sound. And I want to be the only one who does.”

His fingers slid down and he found your entrance, pressing as far as your underwear would let him. 

“And as much as I want to throw you in the back of my car and see how tight that cunt is around my fingers, I’m sticking to my word.” He kissed your cheek. “Next time, I promise.” 

“Does that mean next time we’re going to…”

“Fuck?” 

“Yeah.” You stared up at him with accidental doe eyes. 

"No." He lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. "But I am going to lick that cunt until you're begging me to fuck you." 

"Okay." You glanced around as Dabi puffed his cigarette, blow the smoke away from you." Okay, next time. After work, tomorrow. Are you free?"

“Needy, aren’t we? And even after I made you cum.” He pinched your chin and kissed you. “Busy the next few days. How about Wednesday night? Nine o’ clock, your place. I’ll grab take out from the little Italian joint.” 

"Wednesday?" You could hear the neediness in your voice, and Dabi laughed.

“What? Don’t think you’ll survive until then?” He reached into his car and grabbed a piece of paper, handing it to you to write down your address. “Poor girl.” 

“Dabi." You struggled to write legibly, and pouted when you handed him the paper. He cupped your cheek almost tenderly.

“It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.” He kissed you again. “If you get needy, just pretend your hand is mine. But if you do, I wanna hear about it.”

“You do?” You breathed, leaning back for support against his car. 

“Mhm.” He picked you up as soon as you got comfortable, his hand going for yours as he walked you towards your car. “Every little dirty detail.” 

“Wednesday. Nine o’clock.” You bit your lip as Dabi got your car door, helping you in. “Don’t be late.”

“For you?” Dabi pinched your chin. “Never.” 

The days passed way too slowly. Saturday night dragged on, Sunday, too. Dabi stopped by for a coffee and pastry on Monday, staying no longer than the time it took to whisper hanging in there? When you got all flustered, Dabi smirked and stole a quick kiss, lingering to push you back against the shelves before parting. 

“See you Wednesday, (Y/N),” he cooed. 

Then he was gone. And you had to wait another two days before you saw him again. That was even worse—so much worse. Your cold showers stopped working Monday night, but you weren't sure you'd survive telling Dabi about…taking care of yourself. So you didn't give in to the desire. No matter how much you needed it. 

Although you regretted it Wednesday afternoon when you went into work wired. Your whole body tingled with anticipation for the evening. Dabi wanted to ruin you. You already knew what the evening was going to entail: his mouth between your legs. But what was going to lead up to that and what was going to happen after and what was it going to feel like? 

About half a dozen customers asking for assistance managed to accidentally scare you since you were so lost in thought. The manager on duty even pulled you aside and asked if everything was alright. After apologizing and saying you just had a lot on your mind, they nodded and let you get back to work. 

For once, you were grateful you worked so close to closing. No duties of the closing cashier but it got you close enough to nine that you weren’t losing your mind with time when you got home. You had just enough time to rinse off in the shower, change into a low-cut blouse and jeans, and clean up around the place before Dabi got there.

He was there exactly at nine. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to answer the door when he knocked. Frantically fixing your shirt, trying to tuck it back in, you opened the door. Dabi smiled, a paper bag in one hand, his other in his pocket. 

“Hi, come in.” You jumped aside and held out your arm, showing off your little apartment to Dabi. “I hope parking was easy—it can be a bitch sometimes.”

“It was fine.” His hand went to your waist and he pulled you in for a kiss. He smelled a bit like smoke and the flashback to your time behind the theater was quick and clear. “How was work?”

“Fine. Long. Very long.” You brought him into the kitchen where you had a small table for dining. “You had classes today, right? How were those?”

“Boring. Would’ve preferred to have been elsewhere.” He sat the bag down and started unloading the food. “And long? Any particular reason for that?”

"I wonder." You gave him a knowing but somewhat shy glance, and Dabi chuckled. "What do I owe you for the food?"

Dabi snuck up behind you and spun you, pushing you back against your kitchen wall. His mouth pressed against yours and he was real quick to reach down and hook his fingers through your belt loops. He jerked you against him, and you could feel something strikingly hard in his pants. 

“Owe me nothing.” 

You clawed at his shirt, suddenly entirely uninterested in the food on the table. 

“Let me show you my bedroom.” You tried to tug him in that direction, but he didn’t budge. 

“After.” His hand snuck around and he squeezed your ass. “Gotta save dessert for after dinner, baby. Come on.”

You ate dinner with a bouncing leg and a wicked grin from Dabi as you talked about work and school. You weren’t so blinded by need that you didn’t pay attention, but Dabi was having a field day watching you squirm. He even purposefully slowed down when he got to the last few bites. 

“You get a little taste and you get all needy, don’t you?” He finally said as he rose, putting his takeout dish in the trash. “Poor girl—last few days must’ve been torture.”

“They were.”

“Did you do anything about it?” He leaned over you, one had on the back of your chair as he shoved it back, coming down to be face to face. 

“No. I didn’t.”

Dabi’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You pressed your mouth into a fine line. “Not once.”

“Oh, you poor girl, you really are needy.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me see that bedroom.”

You jumped to your feet and dragged him in there. It was spotless—it was the one room you'd dedicated yourself to cleaning. And Dabi looked around with those same curious eyes he'd had when you first saw him. Taking in every small detail as he looked over the space. 

When he finally had his focus back on you, your legs were against your bed, and Dabi shoved you onto your back. By the time you registered you were on your bed, Dabi was on top of you, kissing you so deeply you thought you were going to get drunk off of it. 

You didn’t get to touch Dabi last time—this time he was letting you. Your hands skimmed over his arms, his chest, down to the waistband of his pants. He stopped you there, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning them against the bed. 

“Tell me,” he muttered as he kicked your legs open and slotted a knee between them. “Am I still allowed to—”

“Ruin me?” 

“I was going to use different words, but yeah.” His teeth captured your bottom lip and you whimpered. “Am I still allowed to ruin you?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Dabi sat back, moving your wrists to one of his hands and skimming the other down your chest, stomach, all the way to your jeans. He toyed with the button, making you squirm as he finally undid it. He moved the zipper even slower, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw your sheer pink underwear. 

You’d gone back and gotten some more sets to wear. 

"You want me here?" His fingers toyed with the bow on the front and you nodded. Dabi scoffed and grinned, moving back up and untucking the rest of your shirt. "We'll get there. I want to see those tits, first."

He slowly unbuttoned your shirt, watching you as your wrists twitched in his hold. He made sure his fingers skimmed over your stomach as he moved up, only stopping once your shirt was entirely open and displaying the equally sheer pink bra. It left nothing to the imagination, and Dabi's grin grew sinister. 

“You wore this for me?” His hand slid over your breast, thumb swiping across your hard nipple. You gasped at the contact, and Dabi repeated it. “That’s not an answer, (Y/N).”

“Yes, I did. I bought it for you.” You closed your eyes—it was the first time anyone had seen you in something so sheer.  

“You did?” He pinched your nipple before swiping his thumb back over it. “So sweet to me, aren’t you?”

"Mhm." It was more of a whimper, and Dabi kissed your jaw. 

“Shame that it looks so good on you—gonna need it off to really have some fun.”

He gave you no time to respond before he yanked the cup down, freeing your breast. There was a momentary pause before his thumb swiped your nipple, and then you felt his breath against it. You pressed your head back as his mouth closed around it, tongue swirling it gently, and the feeling went directly between your legs. Where his mouth was going to do the same thing later. At least that's what you assumed. 

He pushed down on your wrists as you squirmed, and without warning, he moved to the other side of your chest, freeing the other side and taking it into his mouth. He slid a knee back between your legs, giving you just a tease of friction as he devoured your chest. He left love bites all over your chest, grinning each time he made you whimper and whine as he teased your nipples. 

“You gonna leave your wrists there if I let you go?” 

“Do you want me to?” You only slightly opened your eyes, and as soon as you did, you caught sight of your chest. Covered in love bites, hard nipples, rising and falling as you huffed. 

“Mhm. I do.” He ran his fingers along your waist and cocked his head to the side. “If you don’t think you can, gimme a scarf. I’ll keep them in place.”

“A scarf?” Your brows furrowed and Dabi dropped his head, kissing your stomach. “For…?” 

Dabi jerked his head up, brows pinched as he studied your expression. There was a realization dawning on him and his expression was a mixture of seriousness and mischief. 

“Where are your scarves, (Y/N)?" It was a demand—a burning behind his eyes made your heart skip a beat. 

“Closet. Hanging.” 

Dabi moved so fast, and you tried to compose yourself as he retrieved a scarf. When he got back, he sat beside you, wrapping your wrists practically expertly before yanking them farther back and tying them to your metal headboard. 

“That’s what it’s for,” he said as he gave it a hard tug and it didn’t budge. Softly, he leaned down and spoke in your ear. “You don’t like it, you tell me, got it?”

“Mhm.” You tugged on it a few times and Dabi watched with an amused expression. 

“Got a question for you.” He slid down the bed and slowly started to pull your pants down your legs, leaving your underwear on. “How many times have you made yourself cum in one sitting?” 

“I…twice. Just twice.” 

“Care if I break that record?” He moved to his knees and sat between your legs. 

You tried your best to maintain composure, but it was getting really hard.

“You that confident?” 

“(Y/N), I’m pretty sure I could blow on your clit and you’d cum.” He cupped your cunt and you realized just how wet you were. “I could give you half my effort and still have you cumming on my fingers.” 

“Then prove it.” 

Dabi snickered and tugged on the bow. “Oh, baby, you don’t know the challenge you’re starting.”

Dabi wasn't joking about ruining you. You were still in your underwear when he had you grinding your hips against his hand. He was just giving you his thumb against your clit, but he was taking his sweet damn time touching you. Last time had been about getting you off before someone caught you. Now it was dragging it out at an agonizingly slow speed. 

“Oh, so needy. Poor cunt having nothing to fill it.” He cocked his head to the side. “You want my fingers, (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “Please, yes.”

You never thought you’d ever actually beg anyone to finger you—you never thought you’d find the person who’d make you.

“Beg for it.” He pushed down on your stomach, keeping your hips still. “So desperate to finally have someone fill that cunt. Beg for it.” 

“Dabi, please. Please, I need you to. Fuck.”

“Need me to what? Say the words.” 

“Fill me. Use your fingers. Please. I need you to.”

“Poor guys who never got this far. Never got hear how sweet you sound when you beg.” He shifted, pulling your underwear down your legs. “Never got to see those tits, and never got to see how sweet you look when you cum. And this? Open your eyes.”

When you looked down, you were naked. Dabi was pushing your legs open, and he waited until your eyes fell from him to your cunt before he moved his fingers. He cooed as he spread your folds, grinning as he very lazily leaned down and blew against your clit. 

“So wet and needy. Keep watching.” He did a quick glance up before exposing your clit and pinching it, grinning as you squirmed and gasped. “So swollen. Sensitive.” 

He swiped his fingers across it a few times, watching you twitch under the direct contact. And you could feel yourself practically gushing between your legs, and Dabi was clearly enjoying the realization that was donning on your features. You were naked, tied to your headboard, legs spread for him. For him. Drenched from him. Aching for him. 

And then he pushed a finger in, and your eyes fluttered closed. 

“Fucking tight, damn, (Y/N).” 

You weren’t one to use your fingers like that whenever you wanted to alleviate your needs. It was always outside action. Whenever you tried inside action, you never got the same reaction. You couldn’t find the spot that made you see stars the same way your clit did. 

But Dabi found it. And he fucking teased the hell out of it as soon as he did. 

"Oh, right there?" He rubbed the little spongy spot, and you yanked on the restraints. "Got one finger in you, and you're already squeezing me like you're ready to cum. I still gotta fill you up, (Y/N). I ain't even getting started." 

He worked you open like that for a while, going slow enough to make the pleasure almost painful. Watching with mischievous amusement as he finally got to the point where he could put in a second finger. And then he worked you harder, faster, almost mocking how you tightened around him so quickly. 

His other hand went to your lower stomach, thumb swiping over your clit just as fast as his fingers worked your cunt. You weren't ready to cum yet—despite everything, despite how worked up you were, despite how badly you wanted to cum—you weren't ready yet. You were enjoying the feeling of Dabi's fingers stretching you, how they filled you. Once you came, he'd take them out, and you weren't ready for that. You wanted it to last a little longer. 

But Dabi wasn’t having any of that. 

“Wait, Dabi…”

"Hm? You like my fingers that much?" He spat down onto your clit, letting his thumb glide even easier over it than before. "You waited this long for someone to strip you naked and fuck you, and you want to wait?” 

He worked his fingers a little deeper and faster, and you weren't trained enough to be able to hold on. 

“No, I want to feel you cum around my fingers. Fucking gush. Squeeze my fingers like you want to squeeze my cock, baby. Yeah, just like that, so fucking needy.” 

You came, the attempt at holding it back slipping right through your fingers. Your heels dug into the mattress as you raised somewhat off the bed, and Dabi laughed, continuing to pump his fingers. Your eyes closed harder and your moan choked itself out of you, the first wave of pleasure slamming into you unapologetically. And Dabi's fingers dragged it out, fucking you until you came back down, feet kicking beside him as he continued to hit that sensitive spot inside you. 

“Look at that.” He pulled his fingers out and held them up, showing you how wet they were. “Good girl, doing just as I asked. Cumming nice and hard for me.” 

He brought his fingers down as he lowered himself to his stomach. He glanced up at you from between your legs and blew on your clit. 

“You got thirty more seconds, then this?” He blew again. “Is mine.” 

It was closer to twenty-five seconds when he spread your folds and closed his mouth around your clit. So swollen and sensitive, your hips immediately lifted off the bed and he had to hold them down. 

He went slow, giving you every bit of sensation of his tongue sliding over your clit, between your folds, even swiping over your entrance. He sucked and kissed and licked, holding your legs open and hips down. 

And when your thighs started to shake, he sucked your clit into his mouth and hummed. 

When he started licking it quickly, you could feel tears joining your impending second orgasm. He was getting you there so fast, so relentlessly, you almost couldn’t keep up. 

There was no warning when you came the second time—not from him, nor from you—you just yanked on the restraints and cried out a half whimper, half moan. Dabi, once again, didn’t stop until you were squirming, unable to withstand the contact. 

“All those people you work with,” he murmured as he ran his fingers over your clit. “They see you as this perfect little worker. Don’t break the rules. So innocent and sweet. They got no idea you got a guy like me tasting exactly how sweet you are.”

Your response was a whine, and Dabi laughed. 

“You think they’d even believe it if they knew you were begging me to fuck you in my car? Or that you let me tie your pretty wrists up as I play with your cunt?” He slipped his fingers back into you, finding your sweet spot instantly, chasing your next orgasm without restraint. “That you flashed me that sweet cunt behind the theater and came even when someone could’ve seen?”

Dabi licked your clit a few times before returning his fingers there. 

“Inexperienced, sure. But innocent?” Dabi scoffed as you squeezed his fingers again. “I think you’re far from it.”

You groaned as you came again, a sheen of sweat covering you as Dabi kept finger fucking you. 

He was serious—he was going to fucking ruin you. 

He made you cum two more times before he crawled up and untied your wrists, telling you to open your mouth and pressing his drenched fingers into it. You hummed around them, tasting yourself first there, then on his lips when he kissed you. 

"Atta girl," he murmured first as you cleaned his fingers, again after he kissed you.

"You…" You nodded down at his lap, and Dabi smirked. 

“I think I’ve ruined you enough for one night.” He undid the scarf from your wrists. “I ain’t fucking you tonight, (Y/N).” 

"No, not that." You licked your lips, and Dabi froze. "Show me how. On you."

“You want to blow me?”

“Mhm.” 

Dabi studied you for a second—a long second. Then he lifted his chin and nodded at the floor. 

“Then get on your knees.” 

You did as you were told, sliding off the bed onto shaky legs. Dabi motioned to his belt, and you took the not-so-subtle hint, undoing it. It jingled as you opened it, then went for his button and fly. Your hands trembled as you exposed the bulge in his navy boxers, and he sat back on his hands. 

“Go on.” 

You bit your lip and tentatively pulled his cock out. He was thick, hard, and—your mouth parted. It was pierced. 

First cock you held, touched, seen in person, and it was pierced. 

“Open your mouth, put it around the tip.” Dabi’s voice was cool and calm. Only a hint of the sternness he had with his commands before. You did as you were told, and he was hot in your mouth. “Now bob your head, take what you can, adding just a little bit of suction.”

You bobbed your head slowly, going as far down as you could, and Dabi lasted only a short while before he hissed. 

“Just like that, that’s my girl. Fucking hell. Taking my cock so well. That’s it.” His hand went to the back of your head, guiding you a little faster. “I take it back. I don’t think they’d believe such a sweet girl would take my cock like this. So fucking hungry for it. Sucking it so damn well.”

Despite how many times Dabi made you cum, the praise went directly between your legs. Dabi’s thumb wiped away a spare tear, but he made you keep your mouth on him, holding you steady as you swallowed before bobbing your head again. 

“You wanna keep being my good girl?” 

“Mhm.”

"Then when I tell you to move, you fucking move and gimme those tits to cum on, understand?" When you didn't respond right away, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged. "Understand?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed around his cock. 

“Atta girl.” He groaned, his thighs flexing in his jeans. “Fucking perfect.”

He lasted a little while longer, moaning as you continued to blow him. It was a bit of a struggle to fight your gag reflex, but Dabi wasn't letting you pull off. His hand kept that firm grip on your hair as he helped move your head. 

And then he was there, breathing heavy and uneven, thighs flexing under your hands. He yanked your head back for extra measure when he said the one word, move. And then his fist was around his cock, pumping it a few more times as you sat up, and he came. All over your chest. It dripped down over your stomach, and you studied how his face scrunched, the soft sounds he made as he came, and the faint blush that covered his cheeks. 

“Hell, (Y/N).” His eyes went from your face to your chest. “Look at you, fucking filthy.” 

His thumb wiped the corner of your mouth and looked at you, surprised, aroused, and proud. Like he wanted to throw you back on your bed and fuck you right then. But he didn't. He just looked at you, your chest, every naked inch, and seemed to memorize you. He swiped a thumb over a nipple before tucking his cock back into his boxers and stood. 

He didn't spend the night. You both cleaned up—mostly him wiping you down with a rag—and he helped you back into bed after you changed. He stayed beside you for a bit, letting your head rest on his chest as he ran his fingers along your arm.

“If I didn’t have a class at eight tomorrow—and I trusted myself to have the strength to not want to fuck you in the morning—I’d stay.” He kissed the side of your head. 

“What if I want you to stay and fuck me?” 

“Not yet.” He reached down and spanked your cunt, making you jump at the contact. You were already sore. “Need to let you recover first, baby.” 

“Friday.” You played with one of his necklaces—it had a little flame pendant. “What are you doing Friday?”

“Depends on why you ask.”

"There's a mini golf place thirty minutes north. They have a deal on Fridays, and I don't work. They also have really crappy pizza and burgers." 

Dabi smirked—seemingly amused that you'd asked him to play mini gulf. 

“I’ll pick you up at one.”

Dabi let you fall asleep before leaving. Well, sorta. You were awake enough to register his goodbye kiss, and then you were out, missing his warmth. You ended up dreaming that Dabi had spent the night. 

You woke up sore. Sorer than you expected. All you thought of was Dabi each time you winced at the slight pain. It wasn't anything unbearable—but it was noticeable. 

You stared down at yourself in the shower, chest covered in hickies of varying sizes. So much had happened last night. Dinner, naked, wrists bound, legs open. His fingers, mouth, both. Then he finally—finally—let you touch him. And you took him in your mouth. That was the first time you’d done that. That was a night of firsts. 

You spent the shift thinking about that. Thinking about the soreness, what caused it. You joked with your coworker, something about going to the gym for the first time in a while as a way to cover for your constant wincing. They bought it, but you weren't exactly paying enough attention to care. 

Dabi was right—you needed time to recover. 

A fair amount of time, too. You were still semi-sore when Friday rolled around. 

It was casual, more than you were expecting. Dabi wore the same dark clothing, and you opted for shorts and a tank top. The warm breeze felt nice as he drove with the windows down, and it was even better on the golf course. Dabi got a blue ball, and you got a red, and he looked comical holding the small putt. He laughed sarcastically, still sliding his hand into yours as you walked between holes, even when he threatened to withhold it for the teasing.

It was surprisingly sweet. He'd shown his sweet side before, but this was something different. It was all hand-holding and little fun whispers. And only the occasional innuendo at your soreness. 

You split a pizza when you finished the course, lingering back to let your stomachs settle before leaving. Dabi drove back with his hand on your thigh the whole time. 

"Thanks for going. I had fun." You ran your fingers over the back of his hand, studying his silver rings. "I hope you did."

“I did. Little out of my usual activities, but I had fun.” 

"Can I ask a question?" You traced the rings. "Well, two, actually." 

“Shoot.”

“What are your usual activities?" You bit your lip, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part. "I know we haven't labeled what we're doing—and this isn't me asking to label it—but if we are going to hang out like this, I want to do things you like, too."

"I don't know if my scene is the same as yours." Dabi cocked a brow and glanced down at his lap. "I wasn't exaggerating with what I said Wednesday night. People look at you, and they see little miss innocence. They'd eat you alive where I hang out."

“Try me.” 

“What’s your second question?” 

“Again, not me prying for any reason other than curiosity. But do you have a cellphone?” 

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to ask that. No, I don't." He grinned. "I prefer a more 'off the grid' kind of life."

"I kind of assumed." You pointed down at his wallet chain. "No rewards card, cash only. You seem exactly like the kinda guy who'd send a dirty text just to fuck with me, so when that didn't present itself as a possibility, I just assumed."

"You caught me red-handed." He held up his hands. "It's part of the reason I stop by and double-check plans with you at work. Plus, it's a good excuse to see you." 

"Fair enough. I'll take the compliment. But I'm not letting it go, by the way." You leaned towards him and poked his arm. "I want to do something from your scene. I’ll even dress the part, too.” 

“Oh, now you’ve got my attention. How exactly would you dress for it?” 

You tugged on his shirt. “Lots of black.”

Dabi chuckled and shook his head, staring up at your apartment building for a bit. The silence that fell between you was comfortable—Dabi was thinking. For a while. 

Finally, he spoke.

“You work Thursday night?”

"Off at eight, but I don't work Friday. Why?"

“Alright. I’m picking you up at eight-thirty. I’ll take you to one of the places I hang out at.” He leaned forward and gave you a teasing kiss. “You better wear that outfit—I want to see what you come up with for it.”

“I can do that.” You smirked. “I’ll see you Thursday night.”

You had a plan. You were going to absolutely nail the outfit on all fronts. The accessories, the makeup, the underwear. Going as hard as your budget could afford. And you fucking did—with the help of the sales clerk from the boutique. 

“I need your most punk outfit.” 

She looked at the pale pink sundress you were wearing and cocked a brow. “I’m insanely curious. Okay.”

While the boutique usually had a diverse selection, most of their pieces seemed to be of the pastel and bright colors variety. Although, near the back, they had some items that were more in the "Dabi would like this" demographic. It was still slim pickings, though—but you made it work. 

It wasn’t perfect—and you were sure Dabi would probably get a chuckle out of it—but it worked well enough. 

You just needed shoes, accessories, and makeup. But that was easily covered between the drugstore, another boutique about twenty minutes away, and a shoe store nearby. 

You had the entire outfit settled and ready by Wednesday when Dabi stopped by to double-check that you were still interested in hanging out the next night. 

“Oh yeah. I’m more than ready.” You scanned his book. “I got the outfit all ready.”

"Can't wait to see it." He handed you the cash, and you grinned. "I'm curious to see what you think my style is. Especially on yourself."

“It’s good, I promise. I think you’ll like it. Mostly.”

"Mostly?" He cocked a brow and gave you a smirk that went directly between your legs. "I really look forward to seeing it now." 

His hand lingered on yours as he took the change. 

It was that little touch that got you through that shift and the next. Luckily, all the shopping to make the outfit made the days pass reasonably fast. And after an annoyingly long shift with frustrating customers—and the on-duty manager being especially micromanaging—you were rushing back to your apartment to change. 

Remnants of the anger remained, but the excitement took over most of it. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to change before Dabi got there.

A very specific underwear set, a cropped red t-shirt, high-waisted fishnets that sat higher than your high-waisted black shorts. A thick black belt that cinched your waist and some chunky red and black sneakers on your feet were the best you could find. A bit of silver jewelry that reminded you of Dabi's, a little bit of dark eye makeup, and a black purse. It wasn't perfect. 

But Dabi’s reaction was. 

He was speechless. His eyes were wide as his mouth tipped into an insanely amused grin, and he whistled. 

“This is going to take some getting used to.” Dabi stepped back as you locked your door. “Looking good.”

“So you like it?” You beamed, grabbing Dabi’s hand and hugging his arm. “I did a good job?”

"It's a fun outfit, and you look good." He kissed your cheek. "But you may want to tone down the…cuteness...when we get there. Just a tad."

“What, don’t want me to embarrass you?” 

“No, I don’t want them to try and fuck with you.” 

You blinked at him as he opened your car door. 

“Dabi, where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere bad. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” 

The car ride was handsy. Dabi couldn’t fucking keep his hands to himself. He really liked the fishnets. A lot. And the little patch of skin you were showing with your crop top? Drove him fucking wild. His hand started on your knee, and by the time you pulled up to your location, he’d dragged his fingers over the front of your shorts and was lazily playing with the button. 

But he stopped to put the car in park, and you glanced up at the run-down building. 

It wasn't like you didn't come to this side of town—saying one side was worse than the other was unfair. Both had their rundown and considerably dangerous sections. You just didn't go into those parts by yourself very often. You just went to and from work, the grocery store, restaurants for take-out, and occasionally saw a movie with your friends. 

This was a bar. People stood outside smoking, some motorcycles were in the corner of the gravel parking lot, and loud music snuck through open doors and windows. And Dabi, walking around to get your door, looked entirely in his element as he slid his hand into yours and guided you inside. 

"Stick by me; nobody's gonna bug you." 

“I’ve been to a bar before, Dabi,” you said back.

And you had. It just had less smoke, and the beers were double the price they were here. But you weren't that sheltered. Dabi switched to having his arm around your waist when you entered, holding you close as he approached a group by a cornered pool table. Half were drinking, all dressed in different assortments of clothing. They almost looked like they belonged in a sitcom. Or an after-school special. Maybe both. 

“Toga, Twice, Spinner, Shigs, Magne, and Compress.” Dabi pointed to each person in the group, but the way they were all mid-conversation, Compress and Magne were the only ones to say hello. “They all already know who you are.”

“They do?” You looked at him a little surprised. 

"You think we wouldn't notice Dabi driving thirty minutes out of his way for another book or a random cup of coffee?" Compress wiggled his eyebrows, and Dabi shot him a glare. 

“Come on,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me get you a drink.” 

“Oh, I don’t really drink.” That garnered you a few surprised looks. “Often. I don’t drink often. I’ll take a beer.”

“Don’t feel pressured.” Dabi pinched your chin and kissed you—it felt like a clear sense of she’s mine, back off to everyone who glanced over. “You’re here to have fun with me, not mimic me.”

"A water then," you muttered, and Dabi's grin didn't falter. 

“That’s what I thought. Atta girl.” 

He left you alone, even if you weren't even remotely close to being alone. But Magne held out a hand and waved you over, practically shoving Compress out of his seat. 

“Let her sit, Compress. Be a gentleman.” 

"Dabi would kill me if I didn't." Compress did jazz hands at his seat, and you reluctantly sat down. He leaned against the pool table, beer in his hand. "Speaking of, you gotta tell us—what's Dabi like when it's just the two of you? Is he secretly a softy? Is his favorite color actually one of the ones on the rainbow? Does he smoke around you?" 

You took half a breath. It smelled like stale beer, cigarette smoke, and like something had caught fire a few days ago and was never cleaned. It was certainly a change of pace from the fresh pastries and brewed coffee from work.

"He's a mystery. I don't have anything to compare it to, so I don't know what you consider soft for him. I had the same question about his favorite color. And yes—he has smoked around me." You sat back and blinked at him. "My own question: does he actually read the books he comes and gets, or are they just excuses to come to the bookstore?" 

“I read them.” Dabi handed you a bottle of water and curled his fingers, instructing you to stand. As soon as you did, Dabi slid into the chair and pulled you down onto his lap. “I was there originally to find books, you know. I just happened to find someone far more interesting instead.”

You’d never sat on Dabi’s lap before. Just like the kiss before, this was a show of who you were with there. Especially as Dabi’s hand came down and slid into your front pocket. A physical representation that not just you, but he was off limits too. A sentiment that became clear when you saw a few side eyes from some women in a corner. 

Some damn gorgeous women, too. 

But Dabi's move had basically issued a challenge. Luckily, none of which were any guys coming over to greet you. You already dealt with creeps at work. You really didn't want to do that here.

For Dabi, though, it was different. 

It took a matter of minutes before a few girls came over and leaned over the table. 

"Care to play a game of pool, Dabs?" She cooed the words so effortlessly, and you tried not to show your reaction on your face. "Usual bet? Winner takes the other home. Win-win."

You steeled your expression—this was Dabi's world. This was where he hung out, the type of people he'd normally be interested in. Hot, confident, dressed like they weren't wearing a costume for a night. 

“Not interested.” He sipped his beer, his hold tightening a bit in your pocket, pulling you back on his lap. 

"Even if all three of us play again?" She batted her eyelashes, leaning a bit more forward to show off her really nice cleavage, and you weren't even mad at her. She was good at what she was doing—and she managed to accomplish it in less than twenty minutes. "I know you liked that last time."

But you weren't weak-willed enough to let it show on your face—customer service has taught you better than that. 

"Mind if I take that bet?" You cocked your head to the side and did your best innocent gaze you could muster. "Although I'd prefer you fuck off and leave us alone instead of getting in bed with you. But I'm amenable to that." 

“I don’t believe I was talking to you—”

“And I don’t believe we invited you over.” 

“Dabs—”

"You heard the lady," Dabi said over your shoulder. His mouth grazed your neck, and his hand left your pocket, slinging itself over your shoulder so he could basically hang off you. "Fuck off.”

They lingered for a second before giving up and turning, sulking back to their corner with the rest of their group. You were tense on Dabi's lap, and he was aware of it, turning you to face him. The kiss was slow, and he tasted slightly like the bitter beer he'd been drinking. The insecurity, the anger, it was still there. But Dabi was a fantastic kisser. So you gave yourself the kiss, making him come to you to deepen it. 

But you broke it just as it started. 

“Hey,” he murmured, fingers swiping along your jaw. “Ignore them. I don’t even know their names.”

“I…” You took a slow breath. “I need to get some air.” 

Dabi followed you outside, away from the smokers. It didn’t make the air much cleaner, but it was fine enough. Dabi ran his hand over your back. 

“I don’t know them.” 

"I don't care if you do." You shook your head. "We didn't...we don't have a label. You can sleep with whoever you want. I don't care about that.” 

Dabi looked skeptical, but all he said was, “okay.”

“But you didn’t warn me about that. I would’ve liked to know beforehand I was going to walk into a space full of people you’d fucked.” 

"I didn't..." He leaned against the side of the building. "I slept with one girl there. First night here. Just needed to blow off some steam, she let me."

“I would’ve liked to know that I might run into them before we went in there.” You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. “Just so I could prepare myself.”

"You handled yourself more than well enough." Dabi narrowed his eyes, and you just shook your head. 

“It’s not about throwing a bitchy comment back. It’s about…” You ran your hands over your face. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go back inside.”

“Hey.” Dabi grabbed your wrist, brows pinched. “What’s it about?” 

You gave him a soft smile. It wasn't his insecurity to worry about. "Nothing. It's nothing you gotta worry yourself with. C'mon, your friends are in there."

You managed another hour before the insecurities set in deep. Dabi had you back on his lap, occasionally kissing your neck or running his hand over your waist. But your mind wasn't in the bar—not entirely. 

His friends were fun—a little crazy—but fun. But they only could do so much to keep yourself out of your head. And it was starting to become hard to throw your thoughts aside and participate in the conversation. 

Not until there was the harsh sound of glass shattering on the ground nearby. 

Under you, Dabi cursed. He was on his feet before the first punch was thrown. The two guys landed on a table first, then on the pool table in front of you. You yelped and jumped back, and Dabi was already putting himself between you and the fight. You jumped again when another glass was broken, and you tripped over someone engrossed by the fight. Dabi caught you but your hand also caught the table where a shard of glass sliced your palm. 

You cursed under your breath and the anger that flashed on Dabi's face was visceral. You thought he was going to punch the person who'd inadvertently tripped you, so you grabbed his hand and moved towards the door. As soon as you hit the outside, Dabi was on you, pulling out a white handkerchief and wrapping it around your hand. 

“I’m sorry.” He led you to his car. “I thought…I’m sorry.”

“Dabi, it’s fine. I’ve cut my hand before.” 

"Keep pressure on it till I get back, okay?"

You nodded, expecting him to start the drive back to your apartment. But he didn't. It was a five-minute drive before he pulled up to another apartment complex. He got your door, and he was leading you inside, up some stairs, and inside a three-bedroom apartment. 

You were dragged from their kitchen and living section into a very navy, gray, and black color-schemed room. Dabi sat you on his bed, and he disappeared only to return with a first aid kit. 

"So, this is where you live." 

“I live with Shigs and Compress.” He opened the kit and took your hand. “This might sting.” 

You winced as he cleaned the cut but did your best not to make a sound. The concern was prominent in his features, irritation too.

“Dabi.”

“What don’t I have to worry about?” His brows were pinched hard when he looked up. “What you said when we were outside. What don’t I have to worry about?”

“It’s not…it’s…it’s stupid, Dabi.” 

“Tell me.” He bandaged your hand. “Please.”

He peered up at you from where he was squatting on the floor, his eyes dark and sharp. There was a deep-seated softness in his features that made you speak—it was one you'd never seen on him before.

“You had to show me how to…” You motioned down at his lap. “Blow you. The other people you’ve been with, you didn’t have to teach them. I’m…it makes me feel inadequate. Like you should be with someone whose hand you don’t have to hold through every step.” 

Dabi was quiet as he closed the kit and set it aside. He rose and sat beside you on the bed, cupping your cheek as he leaned forward and kissed you. It was an uncharacteristically sweet kiss. Slow and tender. 

“Never call yourself inadequate.” He kissed you deeper. “Never.” 

"I am, compared to them. I'm not being self-deprecating there. It's just a fact."

"Every damn part of you is wonderful." He kissed you harder, and you gasped. "You want to talk about inadequate? You're looking at him, baby. You're not inadequate. Don’t call yourself that.” 

His hands skimmed up your waist and he pulled back, turning away and breathing heavily. 

"Dabi." You reached out for him, and he held up a hand. "Everything okay?"

You meant it beyond him moving away, but Dabi stuck with only answering it partially. 

“We need to move to the living room.” When he glanced back at you, he just nodded down at you. “It’s easy to have restraint in your room. It’s harder when you’re on my bed, dressed like that, and I really want to show you how wonderful you are.”

You bit your lip and, mind still a bit fuzzy from everything and body wired from adrenaline, leaned back on your good hand. Swinging your legs open just barely, you glanced up at Dabi. His breath was slow and shaky. 

“Show me, then.” 

“(Y/N).”

“Fuck me. Ruin me.” You swallowed your nerves. “Please, Dabi. Fuck me.”

There was only a beat where Dabi exhaled again, and then he was on you. An arm wrapped around your waist as he nudged your legs open. He kissed you drunk as his hips settled between your legs and his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. 

“You want me to fuck you that badly?” He rolled his hips against yours. “Beg for it. I know you will. Praise kink, dirty talk, loves to beg.” 

He grabbed your wrist and pinned your hurt hand to the bed, squeezing it once before bringing his hand to slide underneath your shirt. He pushed it up and groaned at the bra. It was a black push-up bra that really accentuated your chest. And Dabi fucking loved it. 

He pulled the cup down and his mouth was on your nipple instantly. He sucked as he freed and twisted the other. Licked as his thumb swiped. Nibbled at the sensitive skin as you squirmed underneath him. 

“I don’t fucking hear you.” He pulled your shirt over your head and threw it aside. Then his hands went to your belt. “Whatcha want, baby? Whatcha want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me, please.” Your eyes closed as Dabi finally unbuckled your belt. As soon as that was done, he was pulling your shorts off. 

And then he saw you were wearing crotch-less panties, and he cursed loudly. He looked fucking feral.

He ripped the crotch of your tights open and shoved your legs open. 

“Really?” His eyes were so wide. “You wore these for me?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Just for you.”

Dabi looked back down and grinned wildly. His fingers parted your folds almost lazily, and despite how wet you were, he still spat on your clit. He kept you spread and bare, fingers going to your clit as he lolled his head to the side and watched you. 

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy tonight?” He pinched your clit. “Look at your poor clit—so needy. Maybe I’ll just give that attention all night.” 

“No, please.” You grabbed at his comforter. “Dabi, please.”

"What?" He brought his other hand up and pressed a finger to your entrance. "I could tie you up just how you like and tease that clit until you can't cum anymore. Don't you wanna cum?" 

He got one finger, then a second in you in easy succession, and found the spot that made you dig your feet into the mattress. Dabi wasn't going slow—it was almost a relentless pace. 

“I do.” You couldn’t keep up with all he was throwing at you. “But I also want you to fuck me. I…I want you to fill me. Stretch me.” 

Dabi’s fingers hesitated briefly before he was back to chasing your orgasm. He had no intention of stopping, even mocking you a bit as you started to squeeze his fingers. 

"Wow, already? The fight turn you on that much at the end there?" He slapped your clit once, and you yelped. "Or does the dirty talk really do it for you?"

When you didn't answer, he tested a third finger, and you gasped at the stretch. His fingers slowed—stealing your orgasm away—but it alleviated the burning sensation. 

"I forgot, you're also a slut for praise, aren't you, baby?" He worked his fingers slowly. "I mean, look at you, taking three fingers already. That's it, good girl. Doing wonderfully.”

You instinctively opened your legs more, and Dabi laughed, pushing his fingers deeper, rocking them against the spot that made you whimper. 

"When you met me, you ever think I'd have you on my bed taking my fingers like this? Moaning so pretty, soaking fucking wet, wishing I'd give you my cock?" Your orgasm was closing in again, and Dabi was well aware of it. "Cause I didn't. The pretty little sweetheart at the bookstore? Never thought she'd give me the time of day. Boy, was that a pleasant surprise."

“Dabi.” 

“Ain’t nobody holding you back from cumming. Fucking cum, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fuck you as long and hard as you want.” 

You did, groaning loudly and pushing your head back against his thin pillows. It was like a bolt of lightning through you, and Dabi fucked you through it, keeping his fingers in you until the last wave hit you. 

“Look at you all fucked out.” He slowly pulled his fingers out. “You still want more?”

You took a very careful breath and pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him straight. 

"I want your damn cock in me, Dabi. Now. So take your damn pants off and fuck me."

That feral expression was back, and Dabi looked excited to strip.

He had scars. They'd been covered by his shirt, so you'd never seen them. They were faint, but they littered his upper body. But you didn't ask questions—Dabi wouldn't give you any answers. Not right now, at least. There were a few on his legs too, but you weren't as up close and personal with those. 

“You’re not inadequate,” Dabi whispered against your lips. “You’re not. You’re more than I could ever deserve.” 

He ran his cock between your folds, grazing your clit with each little thrust. The condom was bright pink—it was the only one he had left from a joke pack Compress had gotten with fun flavors. 

“Breathe.” He kissed you gently as he lined his tip up with your entrance and pushed in. It burned and stretched, but he went in easily. “That’s it, good girl. Fuck.”

He paused somewhere around halfway in and gave you a second to adjust. The only thing you could do was hug him close, eyes clamped shut, trying to get yourself to relax. Then he continued, going until he was flush against you. 

“That’s my girl—fuck—taking every inch. Doing so fucking well.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as he shuddered. “So fucking tight.”

His thrusts were slow and shallow, carefully deepening them only when your body started to relax. 

“I have so many ways I wanna fuck you. So much I wanna show you.” He moved a little faster when your whimpers turned to moans. “But tonight, I’m just gonna fuck you sweetly. Wanna feel you cum around my cock.” 

When you didn’t answer with anything more than a whine, Dabi kissed your jaw. 

“Doin’ alright there, baby?”

"Mhm." You were feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, both fairly equal. A few tears snuck out, and Dabi kissed them away. 

“Tell me when.”

"What?" You were slightly cut off as Dabi shifted, adjusting his hips and yours. That pleasure-pain mixture fluctuated from that to just pain to sudden pleasure, and you yelped. "There, right there."

"There it is." Dabi's thrusts were a little harder, making sure each one slammed against the spot that made you desperately latch onto him and sob in all the best ways. "Feelin' that good, huh?"

“Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

It was a gradual increase in speed and Dabi's hand dropped to your neck. Experimentally, as you chased the high he was throwing your way, you reached up and closed his fingers around your throat. Dabi almost stopped, his hips stuttering for a few thrusts, kissing you fucking hard as he tightened his grip on your throat. 

“So fuckin’ dirty.” He groaned. “Fucking who would’ve thought, huh? Little goody-two-shoes likes to get choked. I can’t wait to find out what else makes you go fucking wild."

“Dabi, I’m…keep going.”

“You gonna cum from my cock? Spread fucking wide in my bed in those crotchless panties?” He groaned presumably because your walls tightened around him—you were so damn close. “Wore those for me. Fucking magnificent.” 

Dabi closed his hand around your throat a little tighter again and slightly angled his hips, so as his cock hit deep, he grazed against your clit with each thrust. You lasted about fifteen more seconds, and then you were done. You buried your face in his shoulder as you came, biting down as that bolt of lightning from earlier was back, spreading over every inch of your body. 

The pleasure twisted, and you practically gushed over his cock, and Dabi fucking lost it. 

“My girl.” 

He fucked you through it, slamming into the spot that made you grateful nobody else was home—you couldn't keep yourself quiet. There wasn't much pause before he was following you over the edge, hitting deep as his hips stuttered, and he groaned. His arm hooked around your waist as he hugged you. 

He held you close like that as you both trembled, feeling Dabi soften inside you. 

“Fucking hell, (Y/N).” He kissed your jaw, cheek, and then nose. “You okay?” 

"M'fine." You blinked up at him, cheeks wet from tears and cold from the AC. 

“You did so well.” He wiped your cheeks. 

“I didn’t do much.”

"Mm. You did. But next time, I'll have you ride me. How about that?" 

“Ride you?”

Dabi laughed and pulled out. He kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of the bed, removing the condom and tying it off. You watched as he turned and tried his best to take the fishnets off smoothly. But it wasn’t exactly easy to be suave at removing tights. Especially when your legs were like jelly. 

He handed you a large shirt from his drawer and pulled on his boxers, very pointedly helping you under the covers and even tucking you in. With an arm thrown around you, he pressed his chest against your back. 

“I’m sorry again about the bar.” He kissed the back of your neck. 

“Don’t apologize.” Your eyelids were heavy. “Worth it. And I like Compress—he’s fun.” 

“Mm.” He held you firmly. “I’m very glad Toga suggested we go check out the bookstore. Got to meet you.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy Dabi’s hold. He was protective at the bar, but this was all personal comfort here. And for a moment, there was the wonder if Dabi ever got this kind of comfort. Whether he did or didn’t, he was enjoying every damn second of you in his arms. And so were you. 

It felt perfect. 

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.” 

[wheezyreads]

You have no idea how hard im biting my fist right now.

Best part of starting the show is definitely being able to truly enjoy these fics

[munsonsmixtapes]

Take it All Off

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve accidentally sexts you, his best friend and gets a response he wasn't expecting.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, nipple play, slight perv!steve, dom!steve

word count: 2k

It’s Saturday night and it’s almost time for Steve to come over for movie night like he does every week. You’re setting up the snacks when you get a text from him. And when you read it, you immediately know it’s not for you, your cheeks getting warm.

Steve: Send me a picture in that set I like.

You’re caught off guard by not only the text but who it’s from. You’ve gotten accidental texts before, but never a sext. And never from your best friend. You’ve never had that kind of friendship and he wouldn’t send something like that to you without talking to you first. 

You: Wrong person, Steve…

You feel awkward now because you’ve never seen this side of him nor wanted to. Well, until now. This feels so weird, but also…right. And being turned on it feels so different, foreign. You don’t think you’ve ever been turned on by Steve Harrington in your life.

Steve: Fuck, I’m so sorry. Just…disregard that.

Steve’s cheeks are bright red as he double checks the recipient, realizing that his text thread with you was right by the one he meant to tap on. And now he’s made everything weird and awkward by accidentally sending you that and he’s trying hard to not think about how now he kind of wants to see your set if you have one. 

You: So you didn’t want to see the set? 

You’re trying and failing to ease the awkward tension and see him typing and backspacing over and over which makes you nervous. Now you’ve made it even worse and aren’t sure that your friendship will ever recover from this. 

Steve: Um…

He really wants to see it but he won’t tell you that. You’ve been friends for so long and he’s not going to let himself feel this way about you. It’ll complicate everything more than it already has tonight.

You: I’m just kidding. 

You do have a set that Robin and Nancy helped you pick out for a date that fell through and you have been looking for an excuse to wear it. And the thought of sending that kind of photo to your best friend seems so exciting. 

Steve: So I can’t see it? 

He knows he shouldn’t be asking, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. He needs to see it, to see you so bad. So bad that he’s getting hard just thinking about it. And the fact that he shouldn’t be asking makes him want it even more. 

You stand in the mirror once you have the set on and almost don’t recognize yourself. You’ve done a little makeup to match and have to admit that you look…hot. You raise your phone and try your best to pose in a way that shows off the set nicely and before you can talk yourself out of it, you send the picture.

When Steve’s phone buzzes, he’s quick to pick up his phone, mouth agape when he sees what you’ve sent him. He wasn’t actually expecting you to send it, but he’s certainly not going to complain. And god, do you look good. Better than he could have ever imagined.

Steve: Fuck

Steve: Fuck, can I come over? I need to see it for myself. 

You: You were already going to, remember?

Now, he’s coming over for a completely different reason. He’s in the car as soon as you’ve replied, driving to your apartment way faster than he should be. If he thinks about it too much, he’ll talk himself out of it, so he can’t. This just feels so weird-where this is going. Steve has never felt this way about you. He’s always thought you were pretty, beautiful, even, but he’s never really been attracted to you. At least, not in a sexual way. 

You’re so fucking nervous as you wait for Steve to come over, sitting on your bed and staring at your phone that’s tracking his location. When you see that he’s outside your building, you tighten your robe and fix the clip that you’ve got your hair wrapped up in as you hurry to the door, touching up your lipstick in the mirror.

You jump when he knocks and open the door as your heart pounds in your chest. You’re nervous but excited when you see him on the other side. You’ve also never thought of him in that way but now you think you might be starting to.

You invite him inside and your heart hammers as he looks around your apartment like he doesn’t know it like the back of his hand. He’s nervous too, trying to figure out how he’s going to go about this. He’s normally so smooth when it comes to women but not with you, apparently. Not tonight.

He steps closer, crowding your space until you’re backed up against the wall. He tugs on the belt of your robe and the thing falls open to reveal the set he’s been dying to see. And he can’t help but let out a gasp when he sees it, how fucking good you look. 

“Fuck, you look fucking amazing. Can’t believe you wore this for me. Fuck, can I-can I touch you?”

“Please,” you beg and he really likes the sound of that. His hand moves up to your bra, fingers gliding over the lace at the top of one of the cups as his eyes flit back and forth from your own to your lips. He leans in and you meet him in the middle grabbing him by his jacket as his hand slides into your bra, cupping one of your breasts.

He gives it a squeeze as his body presses to yours, pushing you against the wall. He wedges his knee between your legs, licking into your mouth as you let out a loud moan. You push off his jacket and it falls to the floor as he picks you up. Your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you into his room. Your hands are all in his hair, pulling and tugging and he’s eating it up, whining and moaning at every touch. He lies you down on the bed, both of you hurrying to undress each other. It’s like you’re both racing against the clock because you’re afraid that the attraction will wear off, but it doesn’t. 

He’s pulling off your panties as you’re unbuttoning his pants and in the blink of an eye, you’re both undressed, taking in each other’s naked bodies. You honestly never thought you’d see Steve Harrington naked and clearly you were missing out, suddenly overcome with the need to suck him off. 

You get on your knees in front of him, spitting into your hand before taking his cock in it, moving up and down, looking up at him to see his reaction. His eyes are already shut, your name falling from his pretty lips.

And when you bring his cock to your mouth, it’s over for him. His knees start to buckle as he moves your head up and down his length, getting the strength to watch you work, your red lipstick smudging on it making him feel some time of way. 

He moves to sit down on the bed and you’re back on him in an instant, fully intending on finishing what you started. You’re both getting more aggressive, moving faster, his nails digging into your scalp as he grabs fists full of your hair. 

You’re gagging as he gets deeper and deeper but you don’t dare stop, not when he’s so close. 

“Jesus, slow down. That’s it, right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

You feel him cum in your mouth, swallowing as much as you can after you’ve pulled him out with a loud pop. He stares at you in awe as he comes down, thinking that you look best on your knees, like this is an altar and your worshipping him. 

He helps you to your feet and in an instant, you’re straddling him, grinding against him as he sticks his tongue into your mouth, wanting to see what he tastes like on your tongue. You can feel how hard he is underneath you. 

You moan into his mouth as your tongues tangle, kisses getting more and more needy as he pulls you down as he collapses onto the bed. Your hands are in his hair again, pulling as his hands move down to your ass, giving it a rough slap which causes you to gasp into his mouth. 

He rolls you onto your back, now hovering over you, eyes darkening as he looks over you again. You’ve never seen this side of Steve-mean and demanding-but you’re not going to lie, you actually love it. You like that he feels comfortable enough to show you how he really behaves in the bedroom.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” he says, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “I’m in charge here. And if you obey, I might give you a treat.”

“What kind of treat?” You’re usually the boss between the two of you in everything that you do so he’s surprised that you’re just giving in like this. You’re giving him all of the authority, no questions asked and he’s actually really into the fact that you’re so willing to be submissive. 

You watch him lower himself down onto you, only hand moving down to your dripping cunt, the other wrapping around your tit, massaging it. His lips wrap around your other nipple as both hands work. His fingers are pumping fast and hard while his other hand and mouth work on your nipples, twisting, and licking, and sucking.

You’re so dizzy from everything he’s doing to you and as much as you’re enjoying it, you really just want him to fuck you. You want to feel all of him as he fucks you over and over, filling you up so much that you can practically feel him in your stomach. 

“I need you,” you tell him and he stops entirely, a chuckle falling from his lips as he makes eye contact with you again. His hands pin yours to the bed as his eyes darken again, a smug smirk playing on his lips. 

“Then you’re gonna have to beg.”

“Please,” you whine and he smiles wider. 

“You must really want it if you’re giving in that easily.” He leans forward so that his lips are just a few centimeters from yours. “But I’m not giving in that easily.” He pulls away, only for you to whine. You clearly want him badly and he thinks he can get off from just your begging.

“Steve, please. I need you so bad and you know just how much.” You wriggle one of your hands out of his grasp and drag his to your cunt where it just was as a reminder. You’re still dripping.

He gets off of you and finds a condom in the pocket of his jeans. He opens it and rolls it on before pounding into you. And your moans are only encouraging him to go even faster and harder so he does.

The bed is shaking underneath you, your headboard knocking against the wall over and over. His fingers are digging into your waist with so much pressure that it’s going to leave bruises, but you’re eating it up.

Your hips are sore from how hard you’re bucking against his but you’re already so close that you can’t give up just yet. You feel it coming as Steve is fully seated inside you and let it course through you, screaming his name over and over as you finish. 

Steve pulls out and disposes of the condom before the two of you get under the covers. As soon as your bodies are pressed together and your lamp is turned off, he’s soft, sweet Steve again as he presses a kiss to your forehead, telling you how good you were before the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

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If you’d like to be added to this taglist or any of my others, feel free to fill out the form pinned on my blog! (for 18+ only and minors/ageless blogs will be blocked!!)

[wheezyreads]

first fic of the year

[tiramissyoucake]

Viltrumite Mark lowkey being into how weak humans are, this is when reader is housing Mark as he's learning about earth, not proof read

It started with a hand comparison, the warmth from your palm radiating to his as your finger pads grazed each other, you noted every little or big difference; pigmentation, definition, moles, scratches, callouses... it shouldn't have aroused him as much as it did.

While you joked about him having to moisturize as you got up and left him on the couch to prepare dinner, he stared at you as you left— it would be so easy to pin you down...

That night was the first time he thought of you in an... unsavoury way. Ever since he hyperfocused on the things humans did, he thinks you're a fragile race— you need smaller ships to move you around flying distances (cars), the men parade themselves like unimpressive peacocks and still fail to mate, the strongest human couldn't make a bruise on the weakest viltrumite.

Every time he went out with you, he felt an unspoken responsibility to protect you. He wore more casual clothes, though he didn't feel happy about leaving his viltrumite uniform at home. It was a casual grocery run. Apparently, you also needed a metal cage on wheels to carry your food.

"Mark?" Your voice snapped him out of the distracted staring as he had his hands in the hoodie pocket (yours originally, his temporarily). He approached you as you gestured to a cereal box placed higher than needed. "A little help?"

Mark didn't need to move behind you, he didnt need to press his chest to your back so closely, but he did so, his arm looming over you as he lowered the box to your hand. "This one?" He has to hold himself back from crushing the cereal box. He loved seeing his shadow overlap your form.

You were more than fine as you placed the box in your cart, a part of him was disappointed, why weren't you shaking like prey? He could've attacked you then and there...

Maybe he should talk to you about this. Like a rational person... but he wasn't a person, he was a Viltrumite.

The loophole gave him enough justification, Mark opened a conversation about 'training' with you one day.

"Why would I need to do that?" You asked as you sat up in your bed, putting your laptop to the side as he stood infront of you in his uniform, stiff and straight.

"Self-defense is a necessity, I need to make sure you'll be okay when I'm not around." He explained briefly and watched you stand, a knowing smile on your face. "So... are you gonna teach me to throw a punch?"

"Not yet." Mark held your hand, guiding you through your house, a mental map complete from the months he spent with you. He paused in an open space away from furniture, turning to you. "Attack me."

"Huh?" You blinked as he opened his arms to you. "Attack me, however you like."

He looked too open to seem threatening, it gave you some courage, sprinting forward to try and shove him down. He easily deflected your hands and restrained you to the ground, his hand pressed between your shoulderblades and the other locking your wrists together behind your back.

"Ow! Okay! Okay! You win!" You surrendered quickly, squirming in discomfort. Mark allowed himself a smug smile as he watched you, clothes disheveled from that brief tussle and eyes betrayed as if asking 'how could you do this to your friend?'

"Now..." he leaned down, legs on either side of your hip he mumbled in your ear. "Try to push me off."

He didnt need to repeat his command as you started jerking and squirming under him like cornered prey, grunting and whining with no real finesse or technique he had to hold back a laugh at your desperate attempt. "That can't be your best effort, I'm not even budging."

You kicked your legs, though it made no effort. "That's not fair! Viltrumites are stronger than humans!"

"Believe me, I know." Mark responded in a tone huskier than intended, he was almost ashamed getting off at the sight of you under him in distress. "Get ooooofff! You're heavy!"

He ignored your complaining, his chest almost pressed to your back. "(Name), this concerns me." He referred to your current state. "You went down immediately with a Viltrumite... imagine how easy it would be for another human to hurt you."

"If I say yes to training with you, will you get off my back?" You groaned, eyebrows furrowed.

"I promise." Mark agreed too quickly, knowing you'd catch on about why at some point, but he deserves this— to feel your flesh squish under his hands, your body pinned down by his...

"Dude. Seriously. Get off my back." he realized you were talking about your current situation.

Mark needed a few moments alone afterwards, pinning you down and getting to be so close in a fighting context made his dick strain against his form-fitting uniform.

[wheezyreads]

he can pin me down all he wants

[penkura]

Tengen might not like Giyuu but he does support his wife loving ways

Fuck it maybe this is the way in. Tengen becomes Giyuu's first hashira friend but only because they bond over loving their wives

This is it, this is how he’s going to befriend Giyuu. Tengen finds out his fellow Hashira is married too and he has to give it a shot, they’re comrades and should be on good terms anyway. He’s probably not supposed to know about Giyuu’s marriage but he overheard Shinobu mention something about bringing some medicine to you, he thinks you’re just a friend until he hears her say “tell the missus I said hi”.

Since he knows now, he starts to talk to Giyuu about his marriage and how long the Water Hashira has been hiding this, hiding you from everyone. But to be fair, Giyuu wasn’t hiding you, he just didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t really think it was any of their business. Shinobu only knew because you’ve been sick and she had made a medicine for Giyuu to take to you.

The two start to spend more time talking (as much as Giyuu can handle) and bonding over how much they love their wives, Giyuu has always appreciated hearing Tengen talk up his wives even if he’s never said it. He appreciates it more now that your marriage is known to the Sound Hashira and he’s fully in support of it, Giyuu talks you up just as much and about how much he loves you, how much you help him when he feels he doesn’t deserve it at all still. He thinks you’re too good for him, even when you’ve told him to stop thinking such thoughts and that you believed it was the other way around.

They start having their talks over tea at some point, eventually inviting you and Tengen’s wives to join them, you all hang out for hours that first night and you have a great time making friends with Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio. Giyuu spends much of the evening just watching you, smiling softly as you laugh and talk with the girls, he’s wanted you to get more friends outside of your hometown, so this is a good thing in his mind.

Tengen takes his time watching Giyuu that night, it’s the first time he’s seen the two of you together and he’s trying to see how you two act as a couple.

“Giyuu, try this!”

He doesn’t argue even a little when you lift your chopsticks for him to try whatever you’ve been eating, Giyuu accepts the bite and gives you a nod.

“It’s good.”

“Right??”

Well that was actually cute, Tengen wasn’t expecting that to be honest. He thought Giyuu would shy away or ignore you but he accepted you sharing your food no problem. Even his wives think it was cute, neither of you notices the reactions from any of them, going back to finish your meals.

You all agree to make this a thing, as often as you can to meet, talk, and have dinner together, Giyuu doesn’t even mind it because it makes you happy. He and Tengen have more of an understanding now, even if they don’t talk much outside of your shared dinners. They start to become closer friends over time and you convince Giyuu that Tengen and his wives should be your first child’s godparents and he agrees.

[wheezyreads]

oh i love this :,)

[elegantpaperoperatormaker]

I Don't Want Anybody Else

Gif from Pinterest, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Perv!Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: In an effort to hang out and maybe make some prank phone calls, Eddie shows up at your place late at night. But his intention of climbing in through your window is halted by the shocking sight of you, vulnerable and partaking in some intimate self-care. 

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, phone sex kinda, perv!eddie, panty stealing, mention of sex and cream pies, voice kink kinda, R is described to have an ass that has a little motion to it

Song Rec: Touch Myself cover by Genitorturers 

A/N: Guys, I hope I didn’t peak with Ringing Pavlov’s Bell lmao. Also, vote on this poll pls!! Also also, as you can see, I'm trying to level up my fics. Based on this ask.

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Eddie climbs up the side of your house one-handed, taking extra care to make sure he has a good grasp on the vine-covered trellis before moving any higher. It takes a lot of work, and he’s slower than usual, but he needs to show you his surprise. 

Cursing his leather jacket’s lack of deep pockets, he maintains a white-knuckled grip on the device. But it’s all worth it when he thinks about how you’re going to fucking flip when you see it.

Earlier today, Wayne greeted him when he got home from the garage. Not unusual, but what was unusual was the box on the table in front of him. As Eddie got closer, he noticed a large, brick-like item in his uncle’s hand. 

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Yeah,” Wayne croaked, cutting him off gruffly. “‘Least it would be if I could figure out how t’work the damn thing.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, his mind racing with a million thoughts as he watched the man glance from the cellphone to the manual nearby. 

“How the fuck did—”

“Ed!”

Heeding the sharp warning, he rephrased. 

“Sorry. How the shit did you get that? Aren’t they like four thousand bucks?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from the older man. 

Wayne rolled his eyes at his nephew’s correction, but passed the phone into his waiting hand nonetheless. “Won it in a raffle at work. City-Suits won’t give the line a raise, but apparently, they’ll blow thousands of dollars on useless shit,” he muttered angrily. 

An evil grin curled at Eddie’s lips as he eyed the expensive prize. “Oh, I don’t think it’s totally useless…”

As Eddie pulls himself up onto the roof, just outside your bedroom window, he giddily thinks of all the prank calls you and he are going to make. No one in the town is safe tonight.

But his fist freezes in mid-air, just a few inches short of the glass. His whole body goes rigid, and his heartrate spikes so high, he’s surprised he’s not keeling over from cardiac arrest. Then, he remembers himself.

“Shit!” he hisses, ducking beneath the sill. When he doesn’t hear a scream or a string of shocked expletives, he rises slowly to take a peek. 

There, in the dimly lit room, you lay on your bed in what has got to be the most compromising position he’s ever seen you in. And he was there at the pool a few summers ago, when you did a massive cannonball into the water, sending your top flying off on impact. That was the last time you ever wore a bikini—he’s been cursing the day ever since. Due to one stupid knot, the rest of his summers were frighteningly dull. 

But this moment might top that—

Because only five feet and one glass window away, you’re half-naked from the waist down and writhing with your hand shoved into your thin, purple underwear.

Eddie’s breathing turns shallow, and his jaw feels incapable of shutting as he ogles you stupidly. Practically frozen in place, he observes the way you squirm on untucked sheets, the way sweat beads at your hairline—small droplets glinting in the low lamplight. 

And just like that, his cock twitches to life, hardening faster than he’s ever felt it; leaking and throbbing furiously beneath the restrictive denim. But despite the discomfort, his trance remains unshaken. 

Your bare legs tremble with every bulging movement of your hand beneath your panties, and he licks his lips, imagining the cause. The way your fingers are probably catching your clit at the exact right angle, sending shockwaves through your limbs. 

The closer he gets, the more the window fogs from the warmth of his breath. Any urgency to hide is zapped from him the moment your mouth opens. He strains to hear the sighs you let out—the moans. But the glass is too thick. Or you’re too quiet. Either way, he feels like he’s going insane, not being able to listen to the noises you make. 

Blunt nails dig into his jean-clad thighs as he refrains from losing himself. This all feels so wrong, but he doesn't know what to do. He can’t knock on the window now, he can’t embarrass you like that. Because he knows you. He knows you’d be humiliated. He knows you probably wouldn’t talk to him for a month out of sheer mortification. And he can’t go a month without you.

But he also doesn’t think he has enough willpower to drag himself away from this damn window. To work his way down that damn trellis. And act like he didn’t see a damn thing when you come into the garage tomorrow, excited to greet him like you always are. You, perfectly innocent and none the wiser. Him, wrecked and changed forever. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees your back arch into the mattress, hips lifting in a messy, gyrating rhythm, like you’re meeting imaginary thrusts. Like you’re desperate for more. When your lips curve around a familiar shape, a singular word he recognizes but can’t, for the life of him, make out, he loses the fight. 

About to yank the window up, he freezes, then decides to set the heavy cellphone down on the roof. 

After all, Wayne will have his ass if he breaks the device. He can just imagine it slipping from his grip as he struggles to climb through your window. It’d go tumbling down the shingles, bouncing off the gutters, and plummeting to the ground below. He’s heard that these things are supposed to be sturdy, but he doesn’t know how sturdy. 

As he looks around for a safe spot to hide the phone, a thought occurs to him. And surprisingly, it’s not motivated by the throbbing ache in his pants. Well, not fully. 

Instead of charging in, guns blazing and risking a years-long friendship, he figures he should call first. It’s only polite.

Pulse thrumming in his throat, he dials your number—the one he knows by heart. Shrill ringing pierces the air—even permeating the thick glass—spooking you. He watches as you wrench your hand from beneath your panties and glance at the bedside table, to the source of the interruption. He ducks low again, making sure he’s not in your peripheral view. 

With the cellphone waiting in his hands, he studies you, sees the cogs turning in your brain as you hastily consider your options—the same ones he ran through seconds earlier:

You need to pick up the phone, because, despite your vulnerable, frazzled state, it’s late, and you can’t have your parents waking up to the ringing of every landline in the house. 

It’s the perfect catch-22. 

And people say he’s stupid. 

You fail senior year three times and it’s a thing. You pass it once and everyone forgets. Whatever—

When you pick up the handset, Eddie grins. Gotcha.

He watches you inhale deeply, attempting to calm yourself. Then you press the phone to your ear and he does the same, mirroring your movements. 

A soft sigh floats through the receiver, and the sound burrows deep into his mind, sending fractured signals down his body that leave his cock flexing. And he almost cheers at the frailness of the breath—the way he gets to watch its birth from your lust-bitten lips, the way he reaps the benefits so intimately. 

Your voice is strained and scratchy from all the open-mouthed gasps, but sweet all the same. “H-Hello?” 

Eddie grinds his teeth, biting back the eagerness creeping up his throat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mutters, tone low and husky. 

He nearly cracks a tooth when your thighs clench. Waves of filthy thoughts race through his mind, but he has to play it cool. He has to act normal. He has to act like he’s not right outside your window, painfully hard from watching you finger-fuck yourself. 

“Eddie?” you half-whisper, brows pinching tight in confusion. “What’re you calling this late for?”

A shiver wracks through his body at the sound of his name on your lips so soon after your wandering hands went exploring. Shifting his focus from your face, he slides his gaze down your figure, zeroing in on your glistening fingers. 

Suddenly, he feels parched. 

With a gulp, he ignores your question, opting instead to spend his energy fighting the wolfish grin from seeping into his voice, and replacing it with remorseful innocence. “Sorry, did I wake you? Didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep…” 

It takes everything in him not to laugh when a look of panic sparks at your features. 

“N-No! No, um, I was just—” You lift your head up, looking around the room until your gaze fixes on something just out of his view. “Painting my nails,” you hurry, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. “So, what did you—”

“What color?” Eddie rasps curiously, biting his lip.

Your face drops, and your stuttering breaths get louder as they crackle through the receiver. “Sorry?” 

As if it has a mind of its own, his free hand hovers over the bulge in his pants, giving an experimental squeeze. He inhales sharply, quietly. His eyes close in ecstasy, but only for a split-second, before opening once more. Because he needs to see you. 

“What color are you painting your nails?” he purrs, tone dripping in a smoky desire. Though to you, it probably just sounds like dreary sleep, stuck in his throat. 

Sliding along the length of his shaft, he palms himself with precise pressure as he watches you shudder.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of your pretty panties, all frilly lace and deep violet. 

“Purple,” you sigh with a slow blink, letting your hand slip beneath the thin fabric. 

“Hm. Cute.” His hips twitch, jerking from the pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He watches as your knuckles stretch the material of your underwear once more, moving up and down a few times before starting a repetitive, concentric motion. 

The sight of you actively touching yourself to his voice has a steady stream of precum pumping out of his tip, thoroughly soaking a splotch into his boxers. Soon, he’s sure his jeans will bleed a darker shade of black. All for you. He’ll become a sticky mess, all for you.

It doesn’t help that he finds himself ruminating on how wet you must’ve gotten your fingers just now, dipping them low into your entrance and spreading the arousal up to your clit. 

Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. 

A tiny voice in his mind bellows, belligerent and questioning how he’s going to come back from this. How he’s going to look you in the eye tomorrow, now knowing what you sound like when you fall victim to your basest desires. 

But then a pitchy hum dances through the line, and he can no longer hear the voice. He watches your legs spasm as you squirm helplessly, like your hands are not enough. 

God, Eddie wishes he could help you. He nearly draws blood, biting his lip, wishing on every star in the sky that he could open this damn window. That he could enter your room and you’d only cry out for him, begging him to touch you. That you wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t scream for him to leave.

He wishes you’d moan his name right to his face. Wishes you’d peel your panties off and open your legs like a wordless invitation. You’d send that famous pout of yours his way, the one you do so well, the one that drives him crazy. The one he can’t resist. 

He’d give you exactly what you need. He’d fill you up and devour every last mewling whimper right from your parted lips. And once you let him in, he wouldn’t abandon your warm cunt for all the money in the world. At least not until he got to leave your velvety walls dripping in his cum. Leave you with a piece of him. A promise of more. A pledge of devotion. 

Eddie’s shoulders hunch, matching your convulsing movements as you struggle to remain quiet. 

“‘S it light purple or dark purple?” he questions gruffly, eager to hear your voice—to hear the strain. 

You throw your head back against the soft pillow behind you, your face crumbling in pleasure, like the right amount of lightning has struck the sensitive little bundle of nerves between your quivering thighs. “D-Dark.”

He bites back a groan, surprised his laser-focused stare hasn’t burned a hole through the glass yet. 

“Like violet?” he huffs out, his gaze refusing to leave your delicate panties, or the actions happening underneath. 

“Mhm,” you mewl, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. 

His jaw drops in awe as the spasms seem harder to control, and the silence more difficult to hold onto, with lewd moans fighting their way up your throat, crawling agonizingly slowly from deep inside you.

“Y’alright, sweets? Y’sound a little breathless,” he utters, steady and calculating—a stark contrast to the harsh, hurried grip he has on his cock. 

You nod your head fervently before remembering the phone pressed to your blazing cheek. Humming a few seconds too long, you’re unable to stop the vibrato from guiding your voice into the pits of desperation.

“Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. Just— I’m, mm-painting my toes.” Your tone jumps an octave on the last word, matching the full-body jerk that leaves you quaking. “Can’t fuckin’ breathe with my knee in my chest,” you pant, forced anger saturating every last syllable as your back arches. 

He chuckles, amused by all your fabrications. For someone who’s squirming in bed like they’re running from their own fingers, you lie surprisingly well. 

It takes everything in him not to let the moan breach his lips when he watches your hand rip from your panties, reach for the decorative throw pillow beside you, and shove it between your thighs, aiding your grinding hips. 

Quickly losing rhythm, he clings to the last shred of sanity he can find, hoping to stave off the fiery heat just a bit longer. He’s not done with you yet. 

But apparently you’re done with him, because your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body convulses rapidly before stopping suddenly, every part of you stiffening like a marble statue depicting the bowing ascent into pleasure-filled ecstasy. 

Though you’re still, it looks like calamity is bubbling just beneath the surface. One, two, three more weak ruts of your hips against the pillow seems to officially send you hurling over the edge, dragging Eddie along with you. 

Warmth blooms low in his gut and spreads across the front of his pants as his cock throbs angrily, shooting ropes of cum that are immediately stifled by the limitations of the tight fabric. His body jerks, matching your movements. Like you, his pleasure boils over, freeing him of any inhibitions. A groan tears from his chest, but you don’t hear it. Your cries drown out his noises.

“S-Shit, unh, Eddie!” 

He shudders at the way his name rides on the back of your moans, but you quickly cover for yourself.

“Sorry—fuck, I,” your hurried, huffing breaths interrupt your words, “I spilled the polish. I’m— I gotta go, Eds.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie allows himself just a bit more teasing. “Can’t wait to see your pretty nails tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

Your responding whimper is cut short when you quickly hang up the phone and flop back onto your bed, pillow still hugged tightly between your trembling thighs. For a while, you just lay there with your arm draped over your face.

Outside the window, Eddie watches your rapidly moving chest eventually even out into soft, controlled breaths. He’s about to leave—the cooling mess in his pants starting to give him the bad shivers—but right as he begins inching backward, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

His eyes go wide when he sees the dark patch on your panties. As you stand and make your way to the middle of the room, his eyes then practically pop out of his head when you shimmy the underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing it in the direction of your laundry basket. 

He gulps at the sight of your bare ass, vibrations rippling through flesh as you walk toward your bedroom door. But before you exit the room, you swipe a pair of panties from the top drawer of your dresser. 

Once you disappear into the dark hallway, leaving your door closed—presumably to stop any light from filtering through—Eddie snaps into action, yanking the window upward and throwing himself through. 

Tumbling to the floor with a quiet thud, his head pops up, looking over the edge of the bed, across the way at the still-shut door. With the cellphone safe in hand, he scrambles up to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the scent of you in the air. It’s partly your perfume lingering on every item in the room, partly the sweet smell of your arousal permeating the stillness of the night. 

Glancing down at the wet spot on the throw pillow, he bounces slightly, frowning in agony—it’s taking incredible restraint not to steal the stupid thing. Because fuck, he could do so much with that. He could rest his head on it, sleep peacefully to the scent of you. He could bury his face in the stain while he ruts his hips into his lumpy mattress. Hell, he could even grind his bare cock on the pillow itself.

But it’s too big of an item to steal. You’d notice. Especially because you were just using it, and for all he knows, this is a regular occurrence. This might be your special humping pillow. He doesn’t judge—he’s got his special jack-off hoodie. Actually, it’s your hoodie that you ‘lost’ a few months ago. It just barely smells like you anymore, but it still does the trick.  

Sighing, Eddie shakes his head, deciding to stick to his original plan. He hurries over toward the basket in your closet but stops short just before he arrives. There, on the ground, is the pair of panties you were wearing only moments ago. He plucks the still-warm material off the ground, holding it up to the light. 

Your juices have thoroughly soaked the fabric, and he looks inside at the gusset, nearly moaning at the glimmer of slick shining up at him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters, pumping his fist. However, right as he moves to greedily sift through more of your dirty laundry, he hears the flush of a toilet from down the hall, then the click of a door. 

His adrenaline spikes, and he speeds back across the room, cursing himself for not just blindly grabbing whatever he could get his hands on from the full basket. Slipping out the window with ease, Eddie shoves the waistband of your panties into his mouth to free one of his hands, allowing him to softly, but swiftly, shut it behind him. 

He makes quick work of descending the trellis before ever witnessing you re-enter the room. As he jogs down the street to his van, he grins victoriously. 

He may not have been able to hang out with you tonight, but he definitely got something far better. A win is a win.

A/N: Pls lmk if you liked this fic!!!! Y’all’s reactions let me know what I should do more of. Also, I’m like a dog and if you guys give me snausages (compliments), I’ll do tricks (post fics) for you. 

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[wheezyreads]

i really love pervy eddie

[astralsummers]

Days Are Gone

Conrad Fisher x Summer Roommate!Reader Rating: M Summary: After nearly ruining his brother's wedding last year, Conrad decides he's going to spend the summer at a different beach house with a group of 20-somethings he met at Stanford. That's how he meets Y/N. Word count: 25K! -- YUPPP. Buckle up. Warnings: Smut, drinking, cursing. Smut includes missionary style and oral (F receiving). Also mentions of a character death and cheating. There are also a bunch of OCs in this story, because I wanted to truly give Conrad a fresh start. Author's note: All of the events, up until about episode 8 continue as normal in this story. Though, Jeremiah and Belly end up still going through with the wedding, and that's where we split from the canon. I cannot believe this is finally out and done. I've had this story in the back burner for a few weeks now, and I've been sporadically coming back to it while working on my other fics. I'm so happy it's out in the world now. If it helps you lean into the story, here's how I imagined some of the OCs: - Emory Goldman looks like Mason Gooding - Hale Barlow looks like Tariq Withers - Lexi Martin looks like Olivia DeJonge - Theodore (Teddy) Patton looks like Jack Mulhern - Margot Rodriguez looks like Paulina Chávez - Tess Todd looks like Savannah Lee Smith - Anastasia (Stassi) Fitzgerald looks like Hannah Kepple Enjoy!!!

When Conrad first spotted her, he was immediately mesmerized by the bright look in her eyes as she weaved her way through the crowd. A cover band had been playing “She’s a Rainbow” by The Rolling Stones as she wrapped one of his friends in a bear hug. 

“Y/N!” Emory exclaimed. “Took you long enough dude!” 

She was beaming as Emory started to introduce her to others in the group that Conrad had showed up at the bar with. And that’s when it clicked – she was the last person who would be joining their house for the summer. 

A few months ago, Emory had approached him with a pitch. He wanted to get a group together to rent a house for a few weeks in North Carolina. 

Conrad was skeptical at first. He’d only ever spent his summers in Cousins Beach, much further up the East Coast. But Emory, who was from D.C., insisted it would be worth it. He explained that the group would be mostly fellow Stanford graduate students and some of his friends from high school – nine people total. The more he explained, the more it sounded compelling. 

Conrad was in desperate need of a reprieve. He wasn’t sure if he had the courage to go back to Cousins Beach and see his family, after all the events from last summer – the wedding, Jeremiah saying he never wanted to see Conrad again, and so much more. Agnes said the summer could work as a fresh start for him in some ways. It’d be a chance to get out of his head and get out of the tunnel vision all those summers at Cousins Beach had given him, she said. It was enough to convince Conrad. 

So he packed his bags and flew home to Boston to pick up his car. He picked up one of his summer roommates, Teddy, and they took off at 5 a.m. to drive along the shore. They finally arrived around dinner time, and even though they were both exhausted, Emory persuaded everyone into kicking off their summer by getting drinks at a nearby dive bar. Only eight had left. 

Y/N must have been the ninth.

It was Conrad’s turn to meet her. Emory had been nudging Y/N along from friend to friend. He clapped Conrad on the back and bellowed, “And this is the golden child of our group. Really the prodigy of our class. Conrad Fisher.” Conrad chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I’m not the golden child,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake Y/N’s. She surprised him by leaning in and giving him a hug instead. 

“My name is Y/N,” she said, leaning close to him to speak. “I know Emory from undergrad at Stanford.” 

“Oh, I go there now for graduate school. I mean, I went for undergrad for a bit too.” He was mentally kicking himself for stumbling over his words like this. It was like his tongue was tied. He had never been great at flirting. “What do you do now?” 

“Well, normally I work in an art gallery, but I’m going to go to graduate school this upcoming year,” she explained. Conrad was getting goosebumps from her proximity. 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Huh?” 

“I said where are you going for grad school?” He spoke louder this time. It was hard for them to hear each other over the live guitar and drums. 

“Oh! Brown.” 

“ I used to go there too. I transferred from there,” he yelled. 

“No way! You’ll have to tell me about it.” She squeezed his arm gently. “I’m going to get a drink. But it’s nice to meet you.” 

She practically pranced as she weaved her way through the crowd again and headed to the main bar. Conrad watched, even noticing other men’s eyes briefly flicking toward her. She was like a burst of sunshine in the dark bar. 

Conrad already knew he was fucked.

***

When they got home at around 2 a.m., most of the group had been stumbling, but despite that, Emory still somehow had energy. He connected his phone to a speaker and started playing a remix of “Pursuit of Happiness,” slurring as he said, “C’mon guys. It’s the first night of summer.” 

Meanwhile, the housemate Conrad drove with, Teddy, looked like he was about to fall asleep any minute. He gave his girlfriend a kiss and headed over to his room, presumably to fall asleep. 

This experience was entirely different from his previous summers. He was used to the occasional party, but usually, he had to sneak back in after and try to hide how drunk he was as he went up the stairs. And last summer, he was so occupied trying to take care of everyone that he didn’t have the time to let loose.

And plus, most of his housemates were girls. That, already, was a huge shift. 

As Emory recruited others to dance with him in the living room, Conrad headed into the kitchen to get a snack. He wasn’t sure if he had any more energy left over. The group had ordered pizzas for the first day and there were still several slices in the fridge. He had just started eating a cold slice of pepperoni when Y/N walked over.

“Ooh, need that,” she said, pointing to his pizza. “Where?” Conrad wordlessly lifted open the box he had sitting on the kitchen’s island and Y/N also started digging in.

“Okay, Conrad, so do you know the lay of the land here? What’s the room situation? Like where am I supposed to put my stuff. I think Emory is too drunk to know what to do.” Conrad swallowed his bite of pizza quickly. 

“Shit, yeah, so I think we all started claiming rooms. So, Lexi and Margot – the two girls who go to Stanford with us – offered to share a room. They’re upstairs. Teddy and Tess claimed the master suite downstairs to share, since they’re dating. There’s two other rooms on the first floor, but those are taken by Emory and Hale. I took a room upstairs, but I didn’t know if Stassi claimed one of the last two up there yet. I think both of them have a connecting bathroom though, so I hope that’s not a problem for you. I guess the bonus is that you’re on the balcony. I can show you the rooms … if you want.” 

She nodded her head. “Oh yeah, I need help carrying my bags too. Is that a problem?” 

“No, no. I can do that. Just show me which ones.” 

When they had finished their slices, Y/N pointed to two suitcases. She tried grabbing one of them to help carry, but Conrad insisted on lugging both bags up. He wheeled them over to one of the doorways of a remaining empty room. “Hopefully Stassi hasn’t claimed one yet, and if she has, it’s not this one,” he said, as he gently nudged the door open with his foot. 

Y/N wrinkled her nose. “Which one is Stassi again?” 

“She is the one who went to high school near Emory. The super tall blonde.” He flicked on the lights. “Looks like this one is open, if you want it.” 

Y/N flung herself onto the mattress. She spread her limbs out to make a “X” shape. “Oh yeah, this is the one.” Conrad laughed, as she then sat up. “You think you’re going to be okay up here? Being the only man among a whole army of girls?” 

“I don’t mind it. I used to do a summer share house with my friend Belly. Honestly, it might be easier this time since I used to have to share a bathroom with her and that caused the most fights, but I have my own bathroom in my room. Besides, I don’t really know a lot of the people here, so it doesn’t really make any difference to me.” 

Y/N cocked her head. “Really? Who do you know?” 

“I know Emory. My friend Agnes introduced us. And I know Teddy because we’re in the same program, but that’s pretty much it. I don’t know a lot of the Stanford people Emory hangs out with, so I haven’t really met Lexi or Margot. I’ve only met Teddy’s girlfriend Tess a handful of times. And no idea who Emory’s high school friends are.” 

She sighed. “Well that makes me feel better. I thought it was just me who didn’t really know anyone.” 

“How did you get pulled into this?” 

“Oh, Emory and I went on a beach trip together my sophomore year of college. And we already said we’d run it back, but just never got to it. Well, until this year, obviously. He texted me and it just was the perfect time in my life. What about you?” 

Conrad shrugged. “He kinda just pulled me aside randomly one day at school and asked me. I was a little unsure at first, but then he gave me the full pitch. Literally had a Powerpoint that outlined the costs and everything.”

She laughed again. “Sounds just like Emory. We always made him the ‘CEO-’” she made air quotes with her hands, “of our trips. Even though for half of it he’s drunk.” 

Almost as if on cue, there was a series of hooping downstairs as the bass of a song dropped. Conrad heard Emory yell, “Oh HELL yeah Hale.” 

Y/N grinned up at Conrad. “We’ll see if we get any sleep this summer.” 

***

On the first night, Conrad didn’t. He was busy tossing and turning, trying to get adjusted to sleeping in a new place. While he was awake, he thought of the girl just right down the hall from him and the way she glided through the bar. If he hadn’t known the song playing was a Rolling Stones song written years ago, he would have thought it was made just for her. 

She shoots colors all around like a sunsight going down. Have you seen a lady fairer? 

Conrad didn’t think he had. 

***

After achieving a few hours of sleep, Conrad got out of bed at 8 a.m. to go for a jog. He ran along the shoreline in their neighborhood and stopped to take some photos of the beach to send to Agnes. After a five mile run, he headed back to the house.

Teddy was the only other person up, and it seemed like he had just gotten back from a workout of his own. He dapped Conrad as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey man, I was going to get started on some breakfast. You in?” Teddy asked.

“Sure man.” 

Conrad started cooking some bacon while Teddy focused on making a batch of eggs. As they were cooking, Teddy and Conrad talked about how they rested during their first night in the house and their workouts that morning.

Teddy was just a nickname; his full name was Theodore Patton. Conrad met him a few years ago during undergrad, since they were both pre-med students at Stanford. They quickly got along, since they were both reserved and grew up along the East Coast. Conrad later learned his mom was a cancer survivor, and they both talked about their experiences as kids watching their mothers fight a disease.

Conrad was always struck by how Teddy moved with integrity, and it was that trait that solidified their friendship. Teddy had met his girlfriend, Tess Todd, during their junior year at Stanford, and he’d sworn then and there that was the girl he was going to marry. It took him a few months of shyly approaching her for him to finally confess his feelings, and now, they were one of the most secure couples Conrad knew.

He liked that about Teddy — that he was willing to be so vulnerable. Compared to some of the other friends he met at Stanford, Teddy was one of his favorites. 

They were nearly done cooking, but no one else in the house had woken up yet. Teddy had popped some biscuits in the oven. As the two of them leaned against the countertops, Teddy asked, “So, anyone caught your eye yet?”

Yes.

“I don’t know. Feels a bit too early to tell,” Conrad answered. “All the girls are nice though.” 

“Yeah? Have you really gotten to talk to any of them yet?” Conrad shrugged.

“I talked to Y/N a little yesterday when we came in. She was cool.” 

“Ah man yeah, I only met her a handful of times during undergrad. She’s always been nice though. Anyone else?”

Conrad shook his head. “Nah, I met the other girls but I haven’t really talked to them much.”

“I know Lexi and Margot a little. I know Margot a bit better, but they’re both cool. Pretty much glued at the hip though. I don’t know Stassi at all, but she seems nice.” 

Right then, Tess wandered in the kitchen, clad in shorts and a big t-shirt. She yawned as she walked in, then greeted, “Good morning guys.” She gave Teddy a hug and a kiss. “Who else is up?” 

“I think just us,” Teddy answered. They then heard a, “Oh FUCK!” and glanced at each other. “I guess not just us.” 

Emory came barreling out of his room toward the front door. The three watched as he swung the door open and came out with a bag full of Taco Bell. He promptly threw it in the trash. “Morning fellas. Sorry, I drunkenly ordered Taco Bell and fell asleep before I picked it up. Oh shit, are you guys cooking bacon?” 

Emory’s outburst seemed to awaken the whole house. Hale trickled out of his room shortly after. And then, Y/N came in. She’d apparently been awake and doing yoga on the balcony connected to her room. She was glowing in the same way she did at the dive bar. 

“Wow guys, it smells so good in here,” she said as she walked in. She walked over to Emory and gave him a hug immediately. Conrad felt his heart tug at the sight. 

Once Lexi and Margot joined, the group decided to eat breakfast outside together. Conrad was seated right across from Y/N. He was trying not to keep looking at her the whole time. 

“So, what’s our vibe for today?” Emory asked the group. “Because I’m just saying, it might not be a bad idea for a beach day. The weather is looking great. We can toss a football around, maybe some beach volleyball, or something else.” 

“Emory, I’m just amazed you’re not hungover right now,” Tess said, as she passed down a plate of bacon. 

“Oh this guy is a tank,” Hale said, high-fiving Emory. “In our Georgetown Prep days I would see him shotgun several beers in a row like it was no problem.” Conrad noticed Lexi scrunched up her nose and Stassi was grinning as she rolled her eyes. 

“He wasn’t a tank when he threw up at prom,” Stassi joked. 

Emory pointed at her. “Hey, we agreed as a group never to talk about that again!” Hale and Stassi laughed. Conrad just smiled. 

“I think the beach sounds awesome today, for what it’s worth,” Y/N said. “I want to take a dip in the ocean.” 

“I’m down for the beach,” Conrad added. 

Emory grinned. “Okay, that’s three for the beach. Any other thoughts?” 

It didn’t take much convincing for everyone to agree. 

When Conrad was done eating, he offered to collect some of the group’s plates and some of the bigger dishes to ease the clean up process. His years of working as a server and busboy were taking over. As he was washing some of the dishes, he heard Y/N’s voice right behind him. 

“You know, I’ve noticed you’re a big act of service guy,” she said as she walked up to his side. “Want any help?” 

Conrad looked over at her and shook his head. “It’s okay.” 

“Aw, c’mon, I know you’re saying that to be polite. What can I do?” 

Conrad hesitated. “Want to dry some of the dishes?” 

And that started the system. He washed, she dried. 

“So, you want to talk more about Brown – now that we’re not in a crowded bar and I can actually hear you?” she asked. 

He chuckled. “There’s not much to say for me. I was there for a year or so, before I transferred to Stanford for the rest of undergrad. But I liked it. The campus was great and easy to get around. I was only an hour from home, so that was nice for me at the time.” He passed her a plate. “I wish I could give you more, but honestly, I kind of had a lot going on at the time so I feel like I wasn’t really present when I was there.” 

She cocked her head as she dried the plate. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, my mom had a cancer recurrence, so she wasn’t really doing well throughout that year.” 

Y/N frowned. “Yeah, I’m sure that was really hard. I don’t blame you. How is she doing now?” 

Conrad hesitated for a second. It was always hard to figure out how to bring this up to someone. For one, he didn’t want to hear the pity that was associated with it and deal with the awkwardness of having to give the assurances of no, I’m okay, it’s been a while. But grief was a nonlinear feeling. There were spurts where he very much wasn’t okay, and it felt like it completely consumed his day. He’d have these moments where he’d start just thinking of his mom and tearing up. Objectively, he’d been doing much better than previous years. Therapy taught him some self-regulation tactics. But there was no concise way to describe all those feelings to someone you just met – much less, someone you wanted to like you.

“Well, she passed away later that year so,” Conrad finally said. It was quiet for a minute. He knew Y/N was watching him carefully. She reached her hand up to touch his arm, but she didn’t say the typical I’m sorry to hear that or anything else. He looked over at her, and her eyes were focused on him. “She’s still with me all the time, though. I see her in everything, so it’s not like she’s really gone.” 

“I understand,” she said. “Well, I’m proud of you for making that leap to Stanford after. I know I just met you, but I’m sure that must have been a big move.” 

Conrad had just finished washing the last dish. He turned around to lean against the counter as he passed it to her. “Well, thanks, Y/N. That’s nice of you to say. I know you’ll have a great time at Brown. Providence is awesome. And I’m from Boston, so if you ever need someone in an emergency situation or anything, I know a lot of people who can help you out.” 

“You know, given the way you’ve acted in the past 24 hours, I know you mean that, so thank you,” she said. She smiled over at him. “Very chivalrous vibes going on here with you.” Conrad laughed, blushing a little. 

“I don’t know about chivalrous.” 

She kept smiling at him. “No, definitely chivalrous.”

***

When it was time to go to the beach, Conrad offered to drive part of the group in his Range Rover. Emory volunteered to drive the other half. He felt a tug on his heart again when he saw Y/N go into Emory’s car, but he was happy when Teddy hopped in his car again. Usually with Teddy also came Tess, and he was always relaxed being around the two of them. He was most surprised, though, when Stassi jumped into his car too. She hopped in the passenger seat, while Tess and Teddy sat in the back. 

As they drove over, Tess started off the conversation. “So Stassi, tell us more about you.” 

Stassi giggled. “What do you want to know?” 

Tess shrugged. “Anything you think people just getting to meet you should know about you?” 

“Okay, so I knew Emory and Hale when I was in high school, but we didn’t go to the same school,” Stassi said. “We met because our parents were friends. Right now my big thing has been trying to tap into having some proper R&R. I’ve just been traveling way too much, and I need to be in one place for a bit.” 

“Oh, where have you been going?” Teddy asked. 

“All over the globe. I travel with bands for work.” 

“You might just be the most interesting person in our summer house,” Tess said. Stassi smiled. Conrad noticed her eyes glance over at him for a minute. Her gaze seemed to linger for a beat longer than usual.  

“What about you Conrad? Want to tell us your story?” she asked.

Conrad felt he was 16 again, talking to the coolest girl at the party and not knowing what to say. It’s not that he was into Stassi romantically, but she was intimidating. 

“There’s not much,” Conrad replied. “I’m a medical student at Stanford. That’s how I met Emory, Tess and Teddy.” 

Tess and Teddy shared their own stories of how they ended up on the trip. Teddy explained that he knew Emory from being in the same fraternity in undergrad, and how he met Tess his junior year. Tess told her own perspective of how she knew some of the other girls, like Margot and Lexi. As they shared their own stories, Conrad felt Stassi’s gaze consistently flicker over at him. It made him nervous – and not in a good way. 

He was relieved when the 10 minute drive was over. The other car was about eight minutes behind them, since they made a Publix run on the way to grab everyone’s sub sandwiches for lunch. Y/N was the one who was carrying the bag with everyone’s order. She was holding it up with pride, with her beach chair slung over her shoulder. When she got to their set up, she set her chair right next to Conrad’s. 

“Long time no see,” she joked to him. Conrad’s heart fluttered. 

“Want me to take those?” he asked, pointing to the bag. “I can get them set up in the cooler.” 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” she said, as she walked over to the cooler and tucked them in over their cans of beer and soda. She grabbed two beers and handed one to Conrad as she plopped back into her chair. “You’re such a savior.” 

Conrad laughed. “I am trying to be a gentleman.” 

“And it’s very sweet of you.” 

Each time she said something complimentary like that, Conrad felt like he was on fire. But instead of verbalizing that, he just flashed her a smile and lifted his beer can to cheers. “What are we gonna raise our cans for?” 

She tilted her head in thought. “Let’s cheers to having a summer of new beginnings.” They both clinked their cans and took a long sip of their beers. “So, Conrad, what are the chances I can convince you to play a game of beach volleyball with me?” 

“I could go for that, but we have to be on the same team.” 

***

They played a few games of volleyball against some of their other housemates. Conrad learned quickly that the most competitive of the bunch – besides Y/N and himself – was Margot and Lexi. They played the most games against them, and it was tight each time. Margot and Lexi won one round, but Conrad and Y/N won two. 

“Okay, so we have to buy you guys drinks when we go out tonight,” Margot said, after they finished their third game.

“We’re holding you to it,” Y/N replied. 

Conrad wanted to put his arm around her. Over the past few hours, he felt so in sync with her – so confident that there was something there in between the two of them. It wasn’t some infatuation, but genuine chemistry. Speaking to Lexi and Margot, he said, “She makes the call on our drink of choice,” and pointed at Y/N. 

The four of them walked back over to their beach chairs. But before Y/N could plop back down next to Conrad, Hale called her over to ask if she wanted to swim. 

Conrad couldn’t help noticing how Hale looked at her as she ran over to the shoreline. His gaze was lingering in certain areas, with a small smirk on his face. It made Conrad clench the chair. 

“Conrad,” Margot said, snapping him out of the moment. “Do you want your sub?” 

Conrad shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thanks though.” He got out of his chair. “I’m going to go for a swim too for a bit, and I’ll be back.” 

He ran toward where Hale, Stassi, Emory and Y/N had gone for a dip. Y/N cheered as he started treading into the ocean. He tried not to wince as the cold water hit his back. 

“Hey, welcome Fisher,” Emory said, grinning as he swam toward the circle. “You know Stassi right?” 

“We met, Emory,” Stassi replied. “Conrad drove me over here when you refused to give me room in your car.” 

“Oh, well if you want, I’m willing to switch with you on the way back. I didn’t know you wanted to ride with Emory,” Y/N then said. Conrad’s heart lurched.

Stassi’s face seemed to drop. “Oh, no it’s okay. I was just joking.” The group all jumped as a big wave came in. In his head, Conrad was screaming. He tried to keep his face neutral. 

“So what’s the plan for tonight Goldman?” Hale asked Emory. 

“I think we all go out for dinner and then maybe hit another round of bars,” Emory answered. 

Hale looked over at Y/N. “Would you want to do that?” 

“I’m always down to go out,” Y/N replied. “What kind of bars are we thinking?”

“Maybe a round of cocktails at dinner, and then we go to some of the beach bars? What do you think? I’m going to pitch it to the group when we’re back in.” Hale and Stassi agreed. Emory looked over at Conrad. 

If Conrad was being honest, he would have preferred to do something a little more laid back. They had been out for a bit last night, and the fatigue from drinking yesterday was still hitting him. But seeing the way Y/N was enthused about the plan and knowing the way that Hale had been looking at her all day, he ended up saying, “I’m in.” 

***

After they got back from the beach, Conrad took a brief nap for about 30 minutes, but he woke up to a knock. He groggily opened his door and saw Margot on the other end. 

“Wait, oh my god, were you sleeping? I’m so sorry,” she said. Conrad waved it off. 

“It’s okay. I probably needed to get up anyway. What’s up?” 

“So there’s a divide of what everyone wants to eat, so we’re thinking about splitting up for dinner. Emory wants tacos, and I personally am wanting to get seafood instead. Do you have a preference?” 

He thought for a minute. He wanted to ask which restaurant Y/N was picking, but that would make his interest too obvious. “I could go for some seafood.” Margot grinned. 

“Correct choice. We’re going to leave in like an hour or so, is that okay?” 

“Fine with me.”

“Good, because even if it wasn’t we were going to do that anyway.” Conrad laughed. “I just had to pretend to make it seem like you had a say.” 

“Who’s coming with us?” 

“Lexi, Tess, and Y/N.” Conrad felt a wave of relief go through him. “Stassi, Teddy, and Hale chose to go get tacos.” 

“Okay, great. Well, I’ll see you in a bit then.”

Conrad knew it would take him fifteen minutes at the most to get ready. He showered, put on a pair of khakis, a linen button down and his watch. He was about to head downstairs to wait for the group, but as he was out in the hallway, he heard Y/N call his name. He spun around. She was standing at her door frame. 

 “Would you mind helping me out for a second?” she asked. “I need someone to help straighten the back of my hair and the other girls are getting ready.” 

“Sure.” 

Her flat iron and makeup were set up in the corner of the room by her full-length mirror. She sat criss-cross in front of it and grinned at Conrad as she handed over the flat iron. He kneeled behind her. “You know what you’re doing? Need any help?”

“I’m good. I used to do this for a friend a ton. Did you put on heat protectant?” 

“Yup, it’s all ready,” she said. He lifted the flat iron and started running it through the hair at the back of her hair. Conrad couldn’t help noticing how soft it was. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

He remembered some of the tricks Belly taught him, like how to curve the flat iron toward her when he got to the bottom to make sure the ends didn’t seem spiky. It only took a few minutes to fix the section of her hair. 

When he was done, he set the flat iron back down and glanced up at her in the mirror. “You look great,” Conrad said. 

“Really? You don’t think the eyeshadow is too much?” She was wearing a pink eyeshadow that glimmered on her eyelids. Conrad shook his head. 

“No, it’s really pretty. You look really pretty.” She turned around to look at him. 

“That’s so sweet of you, Conrad. Thank you. You also look pretty.” 

He laughed. “Pretty?” 

“Yeah, do you not like being called pretty?” He shook his head. 

“No, it’s not that. I just laughed because no one has said that to me before. But I like it.” She smiled again. 

“Good.” 

Someone knocked on the door. The two of them glanced over at Tess, who was standing in the doorway. “Hey guys, just wanted to know if you were close to being ready? I think Lexi and Margot are almost done.”

“Oh yeah, we’re good,” Y/N said. 

Tess gave a quick nod. “Okay, then I’m going to call us a car.” She gave Conrad a quick look, and he knew immediately that she had listened to part of their conversation. 

He turned back over to Y/N, who was looking directly at him. “I think we should go downstairs,” she said.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. He stood up and reached out his hand to help her up. He felt a jolt of electricity when she grabbed it, and he tried his best to act normal.

*** 

The five of them sat near the water at the restaurant they picked. Conrad was thrilled when Y/N sat next to him. They put in orders for bang bang shrimp and drinks. Conrad originally was going to order a beer, but the girls insisted he should join them and order an espresso martini instead. 

“Conrad, I think you’re one of the girls,” Margot said after their drinks were dropped off. Tess giggled. 

“Oh he’s soooo one of the girls,” Y/N chimed in. “He helped me with my hair today, and he knew how to handle the ends.” All the girls said wowwww in unison. Conrad laughed.

“I really didn’t do much,” he said. 

“You’ve done more than most men would have done,” Lexi said. “Has Teddy ever helped you with your hair Tess?” 

“He helped crimp my hair today actually,” Tess said, twirling one of the strands around her hair. 

“I don’t know how to crimp hair,” Conrad said. “So he’s doing better than me.” The group of girls giggled. 

“We’ll teach you, Conrad,” Margot said. “I actually should teach my boyfriend how to do that. It’s always so hard to do the back pieces.” 

“Margot, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Y/N said. Conrad did, since Emory told him every person who was single in the house before the summer started. 

Margot nodded her head. “His name is Austin. He was originally thinking about coming for the summer, but he got a job in California so he’s staying right now. But he might come up for the summer. We’ll see.” 

“They’re a really cute couple,” Lexi chimed in. “I approve of him.”

“And it takes a lot for her to approve of someone,” Margot added.  

“Wait, so do you have a boyfriend too Lexi? Or are you single?” Y/N asked. 

“Oh, I’m single,” she answered. 

“But I really want her to date Hale,” Margot said. Lexi laughed. “I think they’d be so cute together.” 

Lexi shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“I could see it,” Tess said. 

“Have the boys said anything Conrad? About who they’re into?” Margot asked.

“I haven’t talked to Hale or Emory about it,” he answered. “I haven’t really gotten to know Hale all that well.” 

“Which of the guys would you say you’re closest with that’s here?” Lexi asked. 

“Probably Teddy.” He noticed Tess smile. “I don’t know if he’s gotten any intel either.” Tess shook her head. 

“Yeah, they haven’t talked about it yet,” Tess said. 

“Boys are so crazy. I feel like girls would have talked about this already,” Margot said.

“Speaking of which, are you looking for something this summer Conrad? Or do you have a girlfriend?” Y/N asked. She took a sip of her drink. 

“Oh yeah, tell us about your dating life, Conrad,” Margot added, leaning forward. 

He shook his head. “There’s not much to say. I’m not dating anyone right now, but yeah, I’d like to have a girlfriend.”

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” Lexi asked. 

Conrad hesitated and grew flustered. “Uh, maybe seven years ago.” 

“Have you seen other people since that? Like on dates?” Y/N asked. 

“Here and there, but med school is so busy and I don’t want to waste anyone’s time,” he said. “After my mom died, I wanted to be alone for a while. I was too depressed, and I ended up ruining things with someone I really care about. Now that’s a whole other problem, and I didn’t want to drag anyone into my mess while I was getting over that, especially because I can’t exactly avoid my ex.” 

“What do you mean?” Lexi asked. 

Conrad hesitated again. This was always an awkward history to talk about. It almost always ruined dates when he explained.  

“After we broke up she started dating my brother, and now they’re married,” he explained. Tess choked on her drink and started coughing. Lexi’s jaw dropped. He really didn’t want to look over at Y/N’s reaction. 

“Are you serious?” Margot asked. Conrad nodded his head, shrugging. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That is so fucked up. How long were you guys together?” 

“Only a few months,” he said. 

“And when did she start dating him?” Lexi asked.

He winced. “Like a month after we broke up.” 

“I cannot believe that,” Tess said. “Who goes from someone to their brother?” Conrad again shrugged, but he was trying to avoid saying something even slightly negative about Belly. It felt good to talk about it, though. For so long, Conrad restrained his feelings, mostly out of embarrassment.

“Seriously,” Y/N added. “How did they tell you they were together?” 

At this point, he already opened up the flood gates. “They didn’t exactly tell me. I was finishing a final at Brown and they were going to drive me back to Boston after. I caught them making out.” They all audibly groaned. 

“God, Conrad, this is like a horror story,” Lexi said. “I feel like I need to buy you a shit ton of drinks tonight, and I already owe you one from volleyball. This is awful.” 

He gave a low laugh. “Yeah, I won’t lie. It sucked.” It was nice to be able to say that out loud. He tried to stop his mind from running through the memories, like he did every time he started thinking about that period of his life. His mind would play glimpses of all the summers like a film reel. He’d always spiral after, wondering how the outcome could have been different if he was better. 

He was about to start doing that, but Margot spoke and pulled him back to the present. “I need to get on whatever SSRIs you’re on,” she said.

“Seriously. And maybe whatever therapist you have too,” Lexi said. 

The way they were reacting with ease — with such support — gave him the courage to glance over at Y/N. She was studying him in a way that made his cheeks feel flush. He wanted to ask her so badly, “What are you thinking right now?” But instead of either of them saying anything, she lifted her hand and gently squeezed his arm. He smiled at her, and it felt like so much was being said in that moment between the two of them. 

It felt intimate in a way that Conrad hadn’t experienced in years. For so long, he convinced himself that Belly was the only girl for him because of the way they were capable of nonverbally communicating with each other. Yet somehow, this woman he had known for not even 24 hours was able to do the same thing as a girl he had known for decades. 

When they finished dinner, they started walking over to the bar they were going to meet the rest of their housemates at. Y/N had been walking ahead with Margot and Lexi, but Tess hung behind to walk in step with Conrad. 

“So, I noticed you seem to be vibing with Y/N,” she commented. Conrad looked over at Tess. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding her head and grinning. “Do you think you’re interested in her?” 

Conrad lifted up his pinky finger. “Swear you won’t say anything.” She lifted her pinky up and hooked her finger around his. “I think she’s really cute and cool. I like her.” 

“I knew it,” she said. “When I walked into her room today and you were helping her with her hair I knew something was going on. I told Teddy about it and he was like, ‘No, Conrad just said it’s so early.’” She had slightly lowered her voice to mimic Teddy’s tone, and it made Conrad laugh. “But you also looked like you were about to murder Hale at the beach today each time he was flirting with her.”

“Am I that obvious?” he asked. Tess shook her head. 

“Not really. I feel like I picked up on it because I’ve known you for a while, and I’ve never seen you act this way toward a girl. You barely look at other girls when we’re at parties. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I think she’s into you too.” 

He cocked his head. “What makes you say that?” 

She gave him an incredulous look. “Really? No girl would willingly ask a guy to help her with her hair. She wanted to get close to you. And she keeps sitting next to you or by you every time we’re hanging out as a group. But… I could also ask her if you want?”

“You’d do that?” he asked. Tess nodded her head. 

“I’m actually a pretty good wing woman. Just trust me.” 

“Well, thanks, Tess.” 

“Stassi is into you too, just so you know, if you’re interested in her. She told me when we were out on the first night and she was a little drunk.” Conrad hesitated, and Tess giggled. “Yeah, I didn’t think you were.” 

Their group ended up in front of the bar. Emory had spotted them from inside and ran over to the window to scream, “Hell yeah! Let’s party!” 

“Well Emory is definitely already drunk,” Lexi joked.

They got their IDs checked and walked inside. Emory practically tackled Conrad in a hug. “Broooo, we missed you at guys' dinner.” 

“Guys dinner with Stassi?” Conrad teased. Emory waved it off. 

“You know what I meant. Dude, we are going to do a shot of tequila.” 

“Nope, we owe Conrad and Y/N a proper drink first,” Lexi said, cutting in. “Shots later. C’mon Conrad, we’re about to go order.” She started guiding Conrad over to the bar. As they walked over, she whispered, “You looked like you really did not want to do that shot.” 

“Yeah, thank you.” They joined Margot and Y/N at the end of the bar. Margot handed him another espresso martini. 

“Ladies choice,” Margot said, pointing over at Y/N. “Cheers girls.” They all lifted their drinks, clinked their glasses and sipped. 

The espresso martini had almost a chocolatey taste to it. “That’s really good,” Conrad said. Stassi wandered over to their group, holding a regular martini. 

“Hey guys,” she said. “Conrad, you look good. I like this button down on you.” 

Conrad thanked her. Y/N piped up, “Yeah, green is your color.” 

“You think so?” he asked her. 

She nodded her head, smiling up at him. “Definitely.” His heart lurched. 

“So you think I should wear more green?” She shrugged. 

“Well I think you could look good in blue or even like a maroon. I think you could look good in anything.” 

Stassi seemed to get a hint that there was something going on, because she then quietly stepped away and turned back to Emory and Hale. Lexi and Margot had gotten distracted by their own conversation, but he had barely noticed it. He was too focused on Y/N. It was hard to look away from her. 

He took a step closer to her. “You look great tonight too,” he said. “You looked good yesterday too, when I saw you.” 

“Yeah? You thought so?” she asked. Her lips were curling up slightly. 

It had been a while since Conrad had tried to flirt. He wasn’t positive, but he thought that Y/N may have been picking up on that charge in between the two of them too.  That feeling, and the conversation he just had with Tess, gave him enough courage to say, “I really did. I noticed you as soon as you walked in.” She looked at him for a second, and he felt that electric current course through his veins that he always managed to feel around her. 

“I noticed you too.” His heart palpitating. 

Whatever could have been said next was interrupted by Tess and Teddy, who had wandered over to the two of them. “Hey guys, we’re going to go upstairs to dance,” Teddy said. Conrad could tell by the smirk on his lips that Tess had told Teddy about their conversation already. “You guys want to come?” 

Conrad looked over at Y/N. “Yeah, let’s dance,” she said. 

He followed the three of them up the stairs. He could feel the heat and humidity of the dance floor once they reached the top of the staircase. There were dozens of people upstairs, grinding on each other as a song Conrad didn’t recognize played over the speakers. 

“Oh my god, I love this song,” Tess exclaimed. She grabbed Teddy’s hand and started pulling him closer to the crowd, singing along, “Touch me then say you need me.” 

Conrad felt an arm sling around his neck and glanced to his side. It was Emory, who had wedged himself in between him and Y/N. He was beaming, and his other arm was slung around Y/N’s shoulders. “You ready to dance bros?” 

“Oh yes,” Y/N said, as Emory started pulling them toward Tess and Teddy. The rest of the group had also come upstairs. They formed a very loose circle near one of the edges of the crowd, and Emory released both Y/N and Conrad. 

Y/N shimmied as she sang along. Conrad leaned over to her, “What song is this?” 

“It’s Good Time by the Dare. You’ve never heard this?” she asked. She had to speak loudly so she could be heard over the music. He shook his head. “That’s crazy.” 

Hale, who was wearing his sunglasses upstairs, belted the lyrics. Lexi was giggling looking at him, and he took off the sunglasses to place them on Lexi. The two started singing the song practically to each other. 

As the night went on, the DJ started playing some music that Conrad knew, and Emory did manage to get Conrad to take a tequila shot. The drunker the group got, the more they started bouncing and making exaggerated moves on the dance floor. Conrad was practically folding over with laughter at how amped up Emory had become. 

He hadn’t let loose like this in ages. The past 24 hours had been better than the entirety of last summer at Cousins Beach. 

By the time it was 11 p.m., he realized how drunk the group was. He poured some water in as many cups as he could hold in his hands. He first walked up to Margot, who was taking a photo of something and giggling to herself. When she spotted him, she was still bright with delight. “Hale and Lexi are making out,” she said, lifting her phone to show him a photo of the two of them kissing in the corner. Conrad glanced over in the direction Margot had been taking a photo in, and spotted Lexi against a wall, as Hale kissed her. They looked like they were barely coming up for air. 

“That didn’t take long at all,” Conrad said.

“Chemistry doesn’t lie baby!” Margot exclaimed. 

“What are we looking at?” Emory yelled. His words were slurring a little from all the drinks. He looked at Lexi and Hale. “Oh, damn.” 

“Your buddy is doing great, Emory,” Margot said, as she sipped her water. 

“I feel like I’m watching softcore porn,” Stassi said, as she walked up to stand beside the three of them. Conrad realized he hadn’t seen Y/N in a minute, and glanced around the room to find her. He saw Teddy and Tess, drunkenly dancing with each other by the DJ, but there was no Y/N in sight. 

“Hey, does anyone know where Y/N went?” he asked. Stassi shrugged. 

Emory spun around. “She was literally- Oh. I guess not.” 

Conrad passed Emory and Stassi two of the waters he had in his hands. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go look for her.” He walked over to Tess and Teddy, and asked them similarly if they knew where she went, but they shook their heads. How had anyone lost track of her? 

He walked toward the bathrooms to see if she’d been in line, but she wasn’t there either. So, he decided to go back downstairs, just to check. 

She was sitting at the bar, deep in a discussion with some blond guy. She was smiling as he was talking, and Conrad felt his heart wrench just like it did when she hugged Emory. He paused, uncertain if he should interrupt. He watched as she giggled at something he had said to her. 

“You okay man?” He glanced over. Teddy had apparently followed him, and he now stood on Conrad’s right. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Conrad said, nodding his head. 

Teddy glanced over at Y/N, and gave a short nod. “Ah, I see.” He clapped one hand on Conrad’s back. “C’mon, I’ll go up with you.” Conrad was about to protest and say it was fine, but Teddy had already started walking toward Y/N. Conrad reluctantly followed.

“Hey guys,” Teddy said, once he approached Y/N and the mystery man. “Sorry to interrupt. We just wanted to come check in on you, Y/N. Everything okay?” 

She nodded her head, smiling. “Yeah, I just needed some air. It was getting hot upstairs.”

Conrad felt awkward as he stood there, saying nothing. He realized he still had a cup of water in his hand, and practically jittered as he offered it to her. “I got you some water.” 

She smiled up at him. “So chivalrous.” Conrad’s heart skipped a beat. 

The guy sitting next to her was staring at her, but didn’t say anything. Teddy reached out his hand toward the stranger. “What’s up man? We’re friends of Y/N’s. I’m Teddy.”

“Ryan. Y’all got a nice friend here,” he said, as he shook Teddy’s hand. His drawl was thick. Y/N giggled and Conrad felt a flash of jealousy flare up. 

“Conrad,” he said, also reaching out his hand to shake Ryan’s.

“Ryan is going to introduce me to his girlfriend,” Y/N explained. “She works at a yoga studio and apparently they have some teacher openings.” Conrad felt some relief wash over him. 

“Yeah, sorry if I seemed like some creep coming up to her,” Ryan said, chuckling slightly. “It’s not like that.” 

“All good,” Teddy said. “Y/N, do you want to come back upstairs with us though?” 

Y/N sighed. “I’m actually thinking of calling a car. I’m kinda feeling out of it and ready to go home.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Conrad offered. “I’m kind of ready to head out too.” She smiled at him. 

“I think Tess might wanna dip soon too. I’ll ask her,” Teddy said. 

“Oh yeah, we’re going to have to say our byes soon anyway, so you have time,” Y/N replied. She turned to Ryan and gave him a hug. “It was nice meeting you.” 

The three of them went back up the stairs. Lexi and Hale were now on the dance floor, and his hands were resting on her waist. Margot was now wearing Hale’s sunglasses from earlier. Tess, Stassi and Emory were also a part of the group, still dancing. 

“Hey, we’re going to go,” Conrad said, already giving Emory a hug. “We’ll see you guys at home.” 

“Aw damn,” Emory said, clapping Conrad’s back. “I’ll miss you, Connie.” 

“You’re acting like he’s going to war,” Stassi said, laughing. 

Everyone else decided they were going to stay for a bit longer. Conrad called a car, and the app told him it’d arrive in less than four minutes. He and Y/N quickly booked it down the stairs and outside.

“So, did you have a good night?” Y/N asked, as they waited for their car. 

“Yeah, you?” he replied. 

She nodded her head. “It was good. I think I was exhausted since I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m so ready to go home.”

“Oh, me neither. I only got a few hours of sleep. It’s always hard for me to get adjusted to somewhere new.” The car they called had pulled up right in front of them. Conrad gestured toward it. “That’s us.” 

He opened the door for her, and she slid into the car. He quickly jogged around the back to get in on the other side. She propped her head against the window, as the car started driving back home. 

“Did you know Hale and Lexi kissed tonight?” Conrad asked.

“Holy shit, really?” Y/N replied, yawning as she spoke. 

“Yeah, I think you might have been downstairs at that point.” He chuckled. “Margot was there taking pictures of the whole thing. There was a point where I didn't think they were breathing.” Y/N giggled. 

“This is so crazy. Remember at dinner when she said she didn’t know about him?” 

“I know, right?” He looked over at her, and Y/N was yawning again. Her eyes kept fluttering shut, and then snapping open. “Hey, don’t worry about staying awake. I’ll make sure you get in okay.” 

She looked so precious as she nodded her head and softly said, “Thank you.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. 

By the time they got back to the house, Y/N was almost completely out. The driver asked if Conrad needed help getting her in, but he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I got her.” He walked over to the side of the car she was sitting on and slowly opened the door. Her head hung, now that it was no longer leaning against the window. Conrad unbuckled her seatbelt, and shifted one of his arms underneath her knees, and the other around her back.

He picked her up bridal style and took her out of the car. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at him. “Conrad,” she said breathily. “I can- I can walk.” 

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you,” he said. She wrapped one hand on his shoulder. She was still blinking rapidly, as if she was fighting to stay awake. He fumbled a little when he got to the front door and unlocked it, but somehow managed to get the key in and open it. He carried Y/N up the stairs, toward her room, and when they got inside, he gently set her on her bed. He pulled off her shoes for her, and set them by the door, while she curled up sleepily into a fetal position. “Hey, where are your makeup wipes? 

“It’s in the first drawer on the right in the bathroom,” she replied. He stepped into her bathroom, grabbing one from the package and walking back over to her bed. He started removing her makeup, and she giggled. 

“Thank you,” she said softly again. 

“Course,” he said, as he finished removing foundation from her chin. “I’m gonna get you some water from downstairs.” She nodded her head. 

By the time he brought her a cup, she’d already crawled another the covers. He set the cup on her nightstand and turned off the lights in her room. He closed her door as quietly as possible. 

As he climbed into his own bed that night, he wondered what it’d be like to spend the night with Y/N – to feel her head rest on his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

***

Conrad slept in about 45 minutes longer than he intended to the next day. He saw a missed call from Steven. As he stood up to start getting ready for a run, he called Steven back.

“Sup Fisher,” Steven said. It was nice to hear his voice. In the past few months, they’d put in a lot of effort to fix their friendship. It took a lot of apologies on both of their ends, but now, Conrad felt like they were back to normal. It was nice to have that with someone from his summers in Cousins.

“Hey, sorry I missed you earlier,” he replied. “What’s up?” 

“Eh, you know, Tay and I are packing for our move right now, so get ready for us to be West Coasters with ya soon,” Steven said. He then whispered, “But holy shit does she have a lot of clothes. I keep thinking we’re close and there’s a whole other drawer!”

Conrad laughed. “Aw man, I bet. When do you guys take off officially?”

“In two weeks, technically. We’re mostly just getting the winter stuff out of the way now.” 

“Wow, it felt like just yesterday you guys found out.” 

“I know, it’s happening so fast, but I’m ready to get the move done. How’s North Carolina?” 

“A lot different from Cousins. There’s like, nine people here in the house, and most of them are girls. My floor is pretty much entirely only women.” 

Steven let out a low whistle. “Any girl catch your eye yet?” 

“Uh, there’s one girl who seems really cool, but… I don’t know. I feel like I completely forgot how to date.” 

“No offense, dude, but you didn’t really know how to do it to begin with.” And the two of them laughed. “What’s her name?”

“Y/N. She’s friends with the guy who set up the trip.” Conrad ran his hand through his hair. “I think she might be into me, but I dunno. I can’t really read her.” He paused. “Wait, well, can I ask for your take on something? I told her yesterday when we were out that I noticed her immediately when I first met her, and she said she noticed me too. Do you think she was just being nice, or do you think that’s a green light?” 

Steven groaned. “Dude, that’s like one of the most clear green lights ever. She’s literally telling you she’s paying attention to you.”

Conrad’s heart swelled. “You really think so?” 

“Yes! Hold on, lemme ask Tay. TAY!” Conrad heard her reply back, “What?!” before Steven explained that Conrad needed girl advice.

As she picked up the phone, Taylor said, “I never thought I’d see the day Conrad Fisher was asking me for love advice. What’s going on?” 

Conrad explained the same detail he told Steven, and he added a little more. He mentioned that she’d asked him to help her with her hair, and that he’d carried her to bed last night.

“Oh, she likes you,” Taylor said. “You should make a move. You should ask her on a date or something. Well, wait. Do you want this to be a fling or do you think she could be girlfriend material?”

“Girlfriend material,” Conrad replied. “I, uh, I’m bad at doing the hookup thing. Actually, it might be a bad idea, because she’s going to Brown and I’m moving back to California after all this-“ 

“Well, slow down a little,” she said. “You don’t have to figure that out now. Just ask her out for drinks and see where it goes from there.” 

“I agree with Tay,” Steven said. “Just try it out man.” 

The three of them chatted for another ten minutes or so. Steven mentioned that by the end of the summer, they wanted to come down to North Carolina to see the house Conrad was in. When they hung up, Conrad grabbed his headphones, readying himself to at least a five mile jog today.

As he stepped out, he noticed Margot’s door was wide open, and he heard giggling. One sounded distinctly like Y/N’s laugh. He approached the room, knocking lightly on the door frame to announce his presence. Sure enough, Y/N was sprawled across the end of the bed, and Margot was under the sheets.

“Hey, just wanted to say good morning,” he said.

“Conrad!” Margot exclaimed. “Come in! We’re debriefing about last night.” He walked further into the room, opting to lean against the dresser instead of plopping on the bed. (When he was a kid, Laurel taught him to avoid sitting on a bed in his day clothes, and it stuck with him.)

“What time did you guys get home?” Conrad asked.

“I got home at like maybe 3 a.m. Stassi, Emory and I went to this hot dog stand downtown after the bars,” she said. “I don’t know about everyone else. I think Tess and Teddy left 20 minutes after you two.” 

Conrad raised an eyebrow. “And what about our new lovebirds, Lexi and Hale?” 

Margot smirked. “No idea, they disappeared, and Lexi did not come into the room last night.”

Y/N started, “Do you think they… you know…” She raised her eyebrows, clearly alluding to them having sex. 

“Oh, for sure,” Margot said. “They were all over each other last night. Wait, I literally took a photo.” 

“I watched you do this,” Conrad added, laughing a little. Margot giggled again, as she pulled up her iPhone. She held up a somewhat blurry, dimly lit photo that showed Hale making out with Lexi against the wall last night. Both Conrad and Y/N cackled. 

“Wait, oh my god, I heard something so crazy last night after you guys left, but it cannot leave this room,” Margot whispered. “Do you guys promise?” The two nodded their heads. “Conrad, shut the door.” 

He snickered, as he walked over to the door and gently closed it. Once it was shut, Margot continued, “So when we were at the hot dog stand last night, Stassi was like, drunk drunk. And she was like, angry at Hale.” 

“Wait, why?” Y/N asked. 

“I guess this past winter, the two of them hooked up while they were both home, but Hale was very much like, ‘I’ve liked you my entire life, but I don’t feel ready to have something with you right now.’ And they both agreed ahead of this summer that they’d talk about it. And then yesterday, he was making out with Lexi.’” 

Conrad and Y/N’s jaws both dropped. 

“So, they never talked about it?” Conrad asked. 

“Apparently not,” Margot replied. 

“I’m so confused. I thought Stassi liked Conrad,” Y/N said, gesturing over at him. “Am I crazy?” 

“No, I think she does, but I think she has more of an established history with Hale but is trying to be cool girl about it,” Margot replied. She looked over at Conrad. “Sorry Conrad.” He waved it off, and the three of them laughed.

“Wait did Emory even know any of this?” Y/N asked, but before Margot could answer, the door opened. Lexi came in, still wearing her clothes from last night and with her heels in her hands. She still had mascara on, and her hair was tousled. She smiled wryly as she walked in.

“Hey guys,” she said, giggling as she walked toward the bathroom. “Don’t mind my walk of shame.”

“Well, was it good?” Margot asked. Lexi had a smug grin on her face, and she gave a quick nod. “Love that.” Lexi giggled again and then closed the bathroom door. 

Conrad stretched. “Well, I was going to go for a run, so I’ll catch you guys for breakfast?”

“Wait, where are you running?” Y/N asked. 

Conrad shrugged. “Just around the area.” 

“Do you care if I join?” 

Conrad tried to hide how elated he was. “No, not at all.”

“Okay, wait for me, I’ll be downstairs in like, five,” she said, standing up and walking to her room. 

Conrad trekked down the stairs. He spotted Emory, who was also still wearing his clothes from last night and passed out in one of the living room chairs. Conrad walked over to him and nudged him awake. 

Emory woke up with a jolt, confused at his surroundings. “Oh shit, hey.” Conrad laughed. Emory blinked several times. “What time is it?” 

“It’s like almost 10 a.m. dude,” Conrad replied. 

Emory groaned, and then slowly stood up. “Fuck. My head hurts so much.” He stretched his limbs and started padding toward the hallway and his room. Conrad shook his head to himself. 

Y/N made it downstairs at that point, a bright smile on her face. She had changed into a tank top and running shorts. “You ready?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

After they both stepped out of the house, Y/N took the lead on deciding which direction they’d run. She pitched finishing their run near a coffee shop, so they could get some caffeine and pastries as a treat. They didn’t speak much as they jogged, but Conrad was enjoying her company as is. They both moved at a similar pace naturally; it felt like they did this together a million times already. 

Y/N pitched sprinting for the last mile, and they both gunned it for the end. By the time they reached their end zone, they both leaned over, panting a little at all the movement they’d done that morning. 

“C’mon, let’s walk to cool down,” he said, patting her back. He didn’t even care that she was a little sweaty. She nodded her head, straightening herself up, and they walked slowly toward the coffee shop they agreed upon.

Once they were there, they ordered together, and Conrad offered to pay. As they waited for their coffee and breakfast sandwiches, they both chugged at least two cups of water. He noticed one lock of her hair had been sticking up, and he reached out his hand to smooth it out. Her hair was just as soft as he suspected. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling up at him. “And, I meant to tell you, thank you for yesterday too. I know I was a little sloppy at the end.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “I would not describe you as being sloppy. You were just tired, and it was okay. We all had a long day yesterday.” 

“I know, but still, you really did so much for me – taking off my makeup and helping me get into bed.” She reached her hand up to lightly touch his arm, and there was a bright look in her eye. “You really are a real life knight. I’m convinced.” 

Something about the way she looked at that moment caused a shift in Conrad. Maybe it was the way the sunlight seeping through the tall window illuminated her hair. Maybe it was the way her lips curled up as she touched his arm, or the way the brightness of her eyes kept reminding him of “She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones. Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. 

But then his brain screamed at him to stop. His mind wandered back to his own experience dating a housemate. Similarly, Steven had told him to go for it, and then mere minutes after he got off the phone, he saw Belly making out with his brother. And even last summer, when he really put all his feelings out there and told Belly how he felt, she shut him out again. 

He knew that he should open his heart again, but he still wasn’t sure if he was ready. 

So instead of asking her out, he just said, “I don’t know if I’m much as a knight as you think I am, but… you’re welcome. I was happy to do it.” 

*** 

He felt defeated when they got back to the house. He was mentally kicking himself for being a coward, but there was an internal blockage he couldn’t seem to lift. He headed into the kitchen to grab a cup of water and ran into Tess and Teddy eating at the island. 

“We were literally just talking about you!” Tess exclaimed. Normally, Conrad would get anxious from a statement like that, but there was delight in Tess’s expression. “How was the rest of your night? What happened?”

“Uh, one sec,” he said, holding up his finger. He poked his head out of the kitchen to see if Y/N was anywhere in sight. She headed up the stairs when they walked in, but he needed to double check. Once the coast was clear, he turned back to Tess and Teddy. “Nothing happened last night, but this morning, we went on a run together. And I- I chickened out. I was so close to asking her out and I just-“ He let out a long sigh. “I don’t even know.” 

“That’s normal. It took me forever to finally get the courage to ask out Tess,” Teddy said. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, man.” 

He looked over at Tess, whose eyebrows were scrunched together. “I think I talked to her last night,” she said. “But I can’t remember. It’s kind of a blur.” 

Teddy spun his head toward Tess. “What do you mean? Talked to her about what?” Tess gestured toward Conrad. 

“What did she say?” Conrad asked, eagerly lurching forward. 

“I can’t remember,” Tess mumbled, grimacing. “I feel like I- OH.” She then pulled out her phone. “I wrote it down, because I knew I was going to forget it.” Teddy leaned over her shoulder and started chuckling. 

“What does it say?” Conrad asked. He was fully aware of how desperate he sounded, but he couldn’t take the suspense. Teddy gently grabbed his girlfriend’s phone and handed it over to Conrad. 

Y/N says Cornad is cute. Says not sure on vibe. Would kiss. 

“I was dancing, so that’s why your name is misspelled. I was trying to multi-task,” Tess said.

“She really said that?” Conrad asked, passing the phone back. 

Tess shrugged. “Unless my notes are completely wrong.” 

“Her notes usually aren’t wrong,” Teddy chimed in. “I think you’re in a good place to ask her out.”

Just then, one of the back doors opened. Conrad immediately dropped the conversation as Stassi walked into the room. She was quiet, simply giving the three a small smile and muttering a greeting before walking up the stairs.

“Is something going on with her today? I can’t tell,” Tess said. 

Conrad knew the truth, but he figured it was best to hide it for Stassi’s sake. So instead, he shrugged. “I think she’s just hungover.” 

***

Later that afternoon, Conrad was studying on the back patio, but his thoughts were occupied with Y/N. He was trying to figure out how he would even ask her out. He was chewing on the end of his pen, deep in thought, when he heard someone sobbing. The sound was coming from the balcony above him – the balcony that was connected to Y/N and Stassi’s room. He froze, wondering what could have happened. 

He contemplated what he should do. Should he call out her name and acknowledge that he was there? Or let her have the privacy of the moment?

He chose the former. “Y/N? Is that you?” The sound stopped suddenly, and he cursed at himself for making the wrong choice. She probably wanted to be alone, and he ruined it. 

But he saw a form awkwardly shuffle toward the end of the railing. It wasn’t Y/N, though. Instead, it was Stassi. 

“Uh, sorry, it’s me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disturb what you were doing.” 

He felt uneasy. He didn’t know Stassi – or really anyone in the house – well enough to know what to say. But his heart broke for her. He knew what it was like to be in Stassi’s position. 

“You didn’t,” he said with finality. “Hey, do you- Do you want to go out on a drive? Or go to the beach?” Stassi let out a long exhale and then nodded her head. “I gotta put my stuff up in my room, but we can walk out together?” 

She nodded her head. “Sounds good.” 

He shuffled his notebook and textbook together, before heading back inside and upstairs. He set his books down and picked up his keys, before walking over to Stassi’s door to gently knock. She opened the door quickly. Her eyes had a pinkish tinge to them. 

“You ready?” he asked. She nodded her head. 

The two of them walked quietly down the stairs. It was a little uncomfortable as they headed toward his car. When they were inside, he asked, “Where do you want to go?” 

She sniffled. “Honestly… I kinda wanna go to Cookout.” 

He had no idea what that was, but he typed it into his GPS and a million locations popped up on his phone. He picked the closest one and pulled out of their summer house’s front loop, right off onto the highway.

They were quiet for most of the car ride. He glanced over at her every now and then, only to see her staring at the window. Her demeanor was different, and he started to wonder if maybe he got the wrong impression of Stassi. Now, as he was witnessing her in the car, he was realizing that she wasn’t as intimidating as he initially thought. If anything, he was starting to think that Stassi might even be a little like him – guarded, but secretly, eager to connect with people. As they pulled into the parking lot, he asked, "Drive thru or do you want to go inside?” 

“Umm, drive thru,” she said. “I probably look like a wreck.”

He shook his head. “You don’t look like a wreck, but we can do the drive thru.” He drove up until he was right behind a car. “Uh, so, confession. I have never been here before, and I don’t know what it is.” 

She laughed. “You don’t have Cookout in California?” 

He shook his head. “Or in Massachusetts.” 

“It’s fast food. Like, greasy fast food, but it was my favorite thing as a kid when we’d come to North Carolina,” she said. “There’s only one near D.C., and you have to drive like an hour out to get to it, so it always felt like a treat when we’d come here. They have these milkshakes and cheese bites too. Or you can get cheerwine.” 

“Cheerwine?” he asked. “What’s cheerwine?” 

“Oh my god, you’re such a Yankee,” she said, widening her eyes.

“You’re from D.C.” 

“Which is in the south, mind you,” she replied. “Unless you didn’t pay attention in your history class.” 

He laughed. “I paid attention in my history class. I just wouldn’t consider D.C. now the south.” 

She raised one of her eyebrows. “And when was the last time you were there?” Conrad hesitated. “Yup, yup, I knew it,” she cackled. “You haven’t been in a while. I knew it.”

“Okay, okay, sure,” he said. “Now are you going to tell me what cheerwine is?” 

She laughed again. “It’s kind of like if you mixed cherry flavoring with Dr. Pepper. Do you like Dr. Pepper?” 

“Not really.” 

“Well, you should try it anyway,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “That and the cheese bites.” 

It was finally their turn to order. Stassi rattled out what she wanted, and he did as she asked – requesting a cheerwine and just an order of white cheddar cheese bites. He wasn’t that hungry, but he knew it would lighten her mood. 

After they picked up their food, Conrad pulled into a parking spot so they could sort through what they grabbed. He took a sip of his cheerwine and winced. “Too sweet,” he said. Stassi laughed. Usually, Conrad didn’t like when people ate in his car, but he chose to ignore it this time. 

“Thanks for doing this,” she said quietly. “I- I don’t think I could take another second in the house today.” 

“I get that,” he said. “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?” She bit her lip and glanced away from him for a minute. “We don’t have to.” 

“No, no, it’s just… I don’t know,” she said, pausing. He kept looking at her, waiting for her to continue. “I have had a crush on Hale for forever, and for years, I just didn’t think it’d go anywhere. Over winter, he and I hooked up, and I thought maybe it’d be time.” She sighed again. “I guess he didn’t think he could get his hopes up over me again, since for years, he felt the same way but I took off across the globe. We said we’d talk about it this summer, right when Emory invited us both to the house, but… then I showed up and he acted like nothing happened. I kind of did this toxic thing, flirting with you and hoping that’d nudge him, but it didn’t even work. Next thing I knew, he was hooking up with Lexi. It sucks… feeling expendable like that.” 

Conrad knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“I understand, and I… I don’t think it was right for Hale to do that, for what it’s worth. I know I don’t know the guy, but he should have tried to talk to you,” Conrad said. “But, I was kind of in your position once last summer, and I learned the best thing to do is to be direct. It sucks to have to put yourself out there. It’s the most embarrassing thing in the world, and I can’t promise it’s going to end well. But once I did, I felt so much peace after. I could at least say to myself, ‘There. I did everything I could.’ That’s what you want for yourself – to be able to tell yourself you tried.” 

Stassi looked at him. “Do you think I should tell him I still like him?” 

Conrad shrugged. “I can’t be the one to tell you what you should say. I think that’s where you have to listen to yourself. If I have any advice, it’s to say what comes to your mind.” He paused. “I mean, think about it before you say it, but you usually know what you need to tell someone.” 

She giggled. “Thanks, Conrad. And thanks again, for this.” She waved up her milkshake. 

As they drove back to their house, he mulled over his own words and the lessons he learned. Maybe it was too late with Belly, but that didn’t mean he had to make the same mistakes with someone else. It finally gave him the courage to do what he needed to do. 

So, after they pulled in, he marched up to Y/N’s room. Her door was open, and he knocked lightly on the frame. She set her book down, waving him in, and he stepped further into her room.

“Hey,” she said, eyes brightening. “We were all wondering where you ran off to.” 

He fumbled with his fingers. “Oh, yeah. I- I left for a bit with Stassi. She was kind of upset about, you know, what Margot told us, and I thought she could use a friend.” 

“That’s sweet of you. How’s she holding up?” 

“She was upset, but I think she’s better now,” he replied. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry to change the topic, but I wanted to ask you something earlier today. I was wondering if- I was wondering if you’d be open to going on a date with me.” 

There. He said it. Finally. He felt his anxiety seize in his chest, but at least it was done. 

It felt like minutes before she replied, but then a huge smile stretched across her face and she vigorously nodded her head. “Yeah, I’d really like that. Whenever.” 

“Really?” he asked, lighting up. “Great. I don’t know a lot of places here, but is there something you’d like to do? Drinks? Dinner? I don’t think there’s an art gallery here, but I could look.” 

“There’s actually a place that Ryan – the guy from last night – told me about, and I really wanna go,” she said. “It’s a cocktail bar. Would you be open to that? Maybe tomorrow night, if you’re not busy?” 

He nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do it.” 

When he was back in his room, he texted Steven. I asked her out. She said yes. 

His phone chimed with a reply minutes later. Hell yeah dude. 

***

The next day, Conrad was once again struggling to focus on studying. His mind was buzzing with excitement thinking about his date with Y/N. He told Tess and Teddy about it the next morning, and soon, Margot was knocking on his door congratulating him and asking if he knew what he was going to wear. (She ended up digging through his closet and drawers, and picking out something for him.) 

Somehow, even though they lived right across the hall from each other, he hadn’t seen much of Y/N that day. They had passed each other briefly as he was coming back from his run in the morning, and she was heading off to a yoga studio. So, he was nervous as he approached her door. 

It was shut this time, so he knocked on it. When she opened it, Conrad’s breath was taken away. She was wearing a pink dress and gold hoops, and she looked even more radiant than the first time Conrad saw her. 

“You look beautiful,” he said. 

“Thank you,” she replied, stepping out of her room. “You look handsome.” 

“Not pretty this time?” he teased. 

She smiled. “No, pretty too.” 

They made small talk as they walked down the stairs toward his car. He opened the passenger seat door for her, and then slid into the driver seat. She typed in the place on his phone, and as his hand brushed hers, he thought about how much he wanted to hold her hand. 

When they arrived, he helped her out of the car. He felt his heart practically gallop when he saw how delighted she looked as they walked into the bar and toward the table he reserved.

She ordered a strawberry sayonara, and he ordered a manhattan that had some kind of twist to it. He wasn’t usually a dark liquor person, but he felt like he had to upscale his order. He was nervous about not seeming like he was into this – the uppity cocktail bars and eccentric menu. Though, in truth, he tended to stick to ordering beers at dive bars with Agnes, Steven and Jeremiah. 

He felt his heart weigh down again as he thought of his brother, but he shoved those thoughts aside and looked at Y/N. She was practically glowing in the sunlight as she sipped her dark pink drink. 

“I couldn’t focus on studying today,” he admitted. “I was thinking about our date all day.” 

“Really?” She seemed genuinely surprised. 

“Yeah, have you met you?” he replied. “I’ve been practically fumbling ever since I saw you the first time.” 

She slowly shook her head. “I didn’t notice that.” She set down her drink. “You know, I was getting really nervous around you too.” 

This time, he was in disbelief. “Really? I didn’t pick on that. At all.”

“I feel like over the past few days I’ve been doing some silly things to get to know you better,” she said. “Like, why do you think I found you to help me figure out where to place my bags? Or when I asked you to help me with my hair? I easily could’ve done that.” She paused. “Well, not easily, but it would have gotten done.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “I think I was so excited you were asking me to do it that I didn’t catch onto anything else.” 

Her smile grew bigger, and Conrad felt himself practically melt. She had one of the nicest smiles he’d seen. He recalled how it felt like to see her beam for the first time and question whether she was the epitome of the sun herself. 

“You’re such a gentleman,” she said. She picked up her drink again and took another sip. “I kind of want to know. What red flags do you think you have?” 

He weighed on how to answer that. “I can be avoidant, but… I’m trying not to be. Any time I’m anxious about something, I pull away from it. And at the same time, I’m a bit of a people pleaser.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what I’ve been getting out of therapy.” 

“I think you’re a little hard on yourself too,” she said. “Carrying everyone’s burdens.”

“Okay, now you sound like my therapist,” he joked, and his heart skipped a beat when she laughed. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m the opposite of you. I’m definitely an anxious attachment type,” she said. “I also overthink everything, but like you, I also people please.” She cocked her head. “It’s funny though, because I definitely haven’t thought you’ve been avoidant the past few days. If anything, I feel like you’ve been direct and open with me.” 

He shook his head. “It’s been there. I chickened out yesterday for a bit. I meant to ask you out that morning, right after our run. Hell, probably even earlier than that.” 

“What convinced you to do it?” 

“Honestly, a lot of pep talks and talking with Stassi yesterday,” he said. “When I was wit her, I was reflecting a lot about things I’ve learned, and one of my biggest lessons has been to open up and say how I feel. I can’t always promise my delivery is perfect, but it’s getting me out of avoiding.” 

She paused, digesting his words. Then, she reached her hand across the table to graze over Conrad’s. He felt a jolt. It was the first time they intentionally did that. “I think that’s wonderful.” He noticed her gulp. “I want to be in something that I feel sure of, that I don’t feel like I have to constantly ask to be reassured. I know some of that means I need to release a fear I'm going to be left in the dust.” She squeezed his hand. “You know, I usually would have spiraled if I saw you and Stassi run off together for a few hours, knowing she likes you, but I didn’t yesterday. I was surprised when you told me and I didn’t even feel an inkling of anxiety. It felt… good to not have that.”

“I’m glad. That’s the last thing I would want – for you to spiral.” He squeezed her hand back. “I can’t promise I’m perfect when I’m dating. I can’t say I’ll always get it right, but… I’m trying.” 

She nodded her head. “I’m trying too.” Then paused. A lightness reached her eyes. “Maybe we can both try being secure together.” 

***

They talked for hours. Conrad was surprised by how much his anxiety dissipated after they started talking. It was nearly 11 p.m. by the time they figured it’d be time to go home. She was meeting with the owner of a local yoga studio in the morning to pick up a teaching job, and he had to spend more time studying for his USMLE Step One exam. He paid the tab, and they started the drive back home. 

As they pulled into the driveway, he started to feel nervous again. He realized he hadn’t kissed her. He hadn’t even tried to yet. His hands were feeling jittery as he pulled the key out of the ignition.

“You ready to go back in?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the house. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding her head. It felt awkward to try to kiss her now. He knew he would be clumsy if he tried to lean over the center console and take all the romance away. So instead, he hopped out of the car and jogged over to her side to open the passenger door. He reached out his arm to help her out, but even after she exited his vehicle, she traced her fingers further down his arm and held onto his hand. Conrad hoped his hands weren’t sweaty from his nerves.

“I’m really glad I stopped being a wimp and we got to do this tonight,” he said. “It was nice to talk to you.” 

“Me too,” she said, smiling again. He was about to reach for the door handle, but stopped himself. Y/N stopped too. “You okay?” 

This was it. The time to try again. “I- Can I kiss you?” he stuttered out, turning to face her. Their hands were still intertwined. 

Y/N took a step closer to him, giggling and nodded her head. “Yeah, yeah, you can.”

He released their interlocked fingers to cup her face, and he leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were pillowy. He moved gently, but didn’t want to push things so far. So after a few seconds, he pulled back just to look at her and a smile curled up on her lips. Her eyes were glimmering under the outdoor light.

“Wait,” she said. This time, she was the one who propelled herself forward to kiss him. He kissed her back, moving his hands from around her face to rest instead on her hips. She rested her hands on his sides too, as they pressed toward each other. 

When they pulled away, he briefly fixed one of her strands of hair. “I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t try to kiss you.” He spoke softly. He had this feeling that the moment was fragile, and if he was too loud, he might break it. 

“I was hoping you’d do it,” she said. 

They walked back into the house, still holding hands. Conrad didn’t even care if his housemates saw it. All he cared about was this feeling that existed in between him and Y/N. 

The house, though, was quiet when they walked in. Most of the lights were off. They heard the sound of giggling down the hall, which Conrad suspected was Tess’s laughter, but that was the only hint of a presence. Y/N and Conrad walked up the stairs, only breaking their hold once they reached her bedroom door.

“Well, goodnight,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Good luck with the chat tomorrow with that yoga studio,” he said. “Let me know how it goes.” 

She gave him a quick peck again on his lips, before she opened her door and disappeared inside. Conrad was walking toward his room when the door at the end of hall cracked open, revealing Margot. She lifted her thumb up, then down, and Conrad knew she was asking how the date went.

He immediately gave her a thumbs up.

***

The next week moved slowly. He was burying himself in studying again — only taking breaks to go for a swim or chat with some of housemates over meals.

Y/N had started subbing for some yoga studios, and she was applying for some barista and bartending jobs in the area for the summer. Sometimes, she would join him out on the patio or at the dining table while he was studying. She’d quietly work on her applications or whatever other task required her attention.

They tried at first to keep their relationship discreet, but there was no point. Conrad had told Tess and Teddy, who then told Margot. Margot told Lexi. Lexi told Hale, who told Emory. Emory told Stassi. They were subject to teasing, even more than Lexi and Hale. On one of their first weekends out after, Emory got them bottle service and had the billboard say, “Congratulations Y/N and Conrad!” like they were engaged. 

Weeks started flying by in a familiar rhythm. Y/N got a barista job in addition to teaching yoga classes. He spent most of his days studying. When she got home from work, they’d sometimes lay out in the lounge chairs by the pool or go out on a date in town. On the weekends, the group of housemates would eat meals together and head over to the beach. Sometimes, they’d follow up with rounds of bars or drinks at home. 

He’d noticed that Stassi had started withdrawing more in the house. When they were out as a group, she was acting completely normal, but he still had this sense it was a performance. He wasn’t sure if she ever talked to Hale directly or decided against it all together. He tried his best to check in on her, but she was often absent from the house all together. 

Amid all of that, he had still not spent the night with Y/N – not even after a drunk night out, a date, or anything. He wasn’t sure how to approach asking if that was something she wanted to do. They’d made out in her room or his room a few times, but more often than not, one of their roommates would make too loud of a noise that would disrupt the mood.

About a week before July 4th, Emory made a big pitch for the house. He asked for the house to throw a July 4th party, complete with grilling, swimming and fireworks. Some people in the house had started making friends around town, and the group from the D.C.-area knew plenty of people who spent their summers in North Carolina. 

A few hours after the house made the decision to do it, Margot approached Y/N and Conrad while they were swimming in the pool. 

“I have a favor to ask you guys,” she said, as she crouched right by the edge of the pool. 

“Okay,” Y/N replied, swimming over to her. “What’s up?” 

“So, my boyfriend, Austin, wants to come for the week of July 4th for a few days. The problem is, I’m sharing a room with Lexi,” she said. “She doesn’t think she could handle sleeping in Hale’s room because it’s still casual and she doesn’t want to stir up any more tension with Stassi. So, I was wondering if either of you would be willing to share a room with Lexi, or if you two would be willing to share a room with each other so Lexi can crash in one of your rooms?” 

They both glanced at each other. It’d be a big step for both of them. In a way, it’d feel like solidifying they were a couple in the house, but he wasn’t sure how open Y/N would be to that. He couldn’t read her reaction, and he didn’t want to put her in a weird spot in front of Margot. 

“Could you give us a minute to talk about it?” he asked. 

Margot nodded her head. “Take all the time you need. Well, actually, please let me know today, if you could, so Austin can buy tickets.” Conrad and Y/N giggled as Margot back into the house.

“What are you thinking?” he asked Y/N. 

“I’d be okay with it, if you are,” she said. “But I don’t mind sharing a room with Lexi either, so it’s up to you.” 

“I don’t mind sharing a room,” Conrad said. He then realized how that sounded. “Let me fix that, I want to share a room.” 

She grinned. “Okay, then deal.” 

***

On July 3rd, Y/N started moving some of her clothes and toiletries into Conrad’s room. He cleared some room in the closet and the dresser for her. And to be extra safe, he deep cleaned his bathroom and put on a fresh pair of sheets. 

He’d never gotten to properly share a room with a girl before. He and Belly were both too young to get an apartment together when they dated, and since then, there hadn’t been anyone else.

But he quickly realized he liked seeing his toothbrush next to hers in his bathroom. He liked that there were strands of her hair already lingering on his floor. But he knew by far that his favorite part was going to be sleeping next to her.

They hosted a welcome dinner for Margot’s boyfriend, Austin. He was a bit standoffish, but Conrad figured it was likely nerves from meeting so many people at once.

They all had to be up early in the morning to help set up for the party, and Y/N was planning on teaching a yoga class at 9 a.m. So, by about 10 p.m., Conrad and Y/N decided to call it a night. 

He was nervous as he followed her up the stairs. What if she hated sleeping next to him? What if he snored and didn’t know it? Or maybe he accidentally kicked in his sleep? He hadn’t shared a bed or room with another person in years. 

When he pushed his bedroom door open, Y/N flung herself on the bed. “M’exhausted,” she murmured. He laughed as he walked next to her, looming over her sprawled out form. He started pulling her shoes off and setting them in the closet. When he turned around to face her again, she propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. 

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” he said. “Do you need anything?” 

She stood up. “No, I’ll join you.” 

They both walked into his bathroom and picked up their respective toothbrushes. Conrad squeezed some of the toothpaste on her brush, then his. It made him feel giddy to be able to do such small domestic things with her like this. He was trying not to giggle as he looked at the two of them in the mirror. They took turns rinsing out their mouths. And then, took turns washing their faces. She flicked water at him while he was waiting for her to wrap up. 

When they were back in his bedroom, he felt his anxiety begin to stir up again. Y/N started shuffling in one of her drawers and pulled out a nightslip. Conrad gulped. 

“You don’t mind if I change here? Do you?” she asked. There was a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“Not at all,” he said, probably more breathily than he intended to. He cleared his throat. “Do you care if I do?” She shook her head. 

Y/N peeled off her shirt, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. Conrad did the same, and the two kept eye contact as they peeled off each layer of clothing. When they were both standing in their underwear, there was a pause as they both looked over. Suddenly, Y/N strode up to him and kissed him. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hands went to her thighs, immediately scooping her up. He began carrying her toward his bed as they continued to kiss. He gently set her down and hoisted himself on top of her. His lips immediately pressed against hers again, as he ran his fingers along her side. 

“I want you,” she whispered as they broke apart briefly for air. 

“I want you too,” he said. “You look so pretty underneath me right now.” 

She smiled and tugged him closer to her to kiss him again. As they kissed, Conrad cupped one of her breasts in his hand and she whimpered. The sounds she was making were just so pretty, so perfect. 

His hands traced down her back until he found her bra clasp. “Can I?” he asked. She nodded her head. 

He unclasped her bra and slowly pulled it off her. He studied her in the dim lighting for a second. It was different to see her chest lift with every inhale like this. He cupped the other breast – the one on her left side – and slowly moved his hand up to her heart. He could feel her heart beating rapidly, and he smirked to himself knowing he was the one giving her that reaction.

He leaned down to kiss her again, as one of his hands slipped underneath her underwear. He heard her let out a small gasp as his finger  lightly touched her clit. He let two of his fingers move up and down her folds, as she writhed underneath him. He forgot what it was like to be so close to someone – to have that yearning take over the senses completely. 

She moaned again as he inserted one finger inside her and began to slowly pump it in and out. 

“You have to be a little quiet,” he reminded her. “We can’t have Margot and Austin hearing us.” 

“I’m sure they’re up to the same thing,” Y/N replied, as she kissed his lips again. 

He started to kiss along her jawline, then gently kissed one of her ear lobes. He moved back down her neck, all while he stroked her with his fingers. He noticed that her skin smelled like flowers. 

He swirled his tongue around one of her nipples, as he switched his fingers attention back to her clit and began rubbing her there. Her hips slightly bucked up, and he chuckled. 

“You’re so reactive,” he said. 

“Is that a problem?” 

He shook his head. “No, it’s… ridiculously hot.” He focused again on her breasts, taking the other nipple gently into his mouth. He sat up briefly, just to pull her underwear off her legs and throw that off to the side too. She looked so angelic laying on his bed, with her hair splayed out around her head. He kissed her lips again before shifting his attention to her core. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, as he leaned down to kiss right at her center. He inserted a finger back inside her, as his tongue began to lick her up, savoring every taste of her.

She tasted mostly sweet, with just a hint of a saltiness. He was obsessed with it as his tongue worked her clit. While his fingers pumped inside her, his other hand held her down so he could focus on making sure she kept making all those pretty moans. He was growing harder in his boxers by the minute just listening to her and watching her squirm. 

“Conrad,” she breathed. “I’m close.”

He tried not to let his smile disrupt the rhythm he’d started as he flicked his tongue on her clit. She twitched up slightly and her breath started picking up, until suddenly she was slowing down. Conrad knew he’d gotten her off, and he was trying not to let his smugness show as he sat up. 

“Want to taste yourself?” he asked. She nodded her head. He removed her legs from his shoulders and leaned over her again so he could kiss her on the lips. He was going to pull away after a brief peck or two, but her arms circled around his neck and he kissed her deeply. 

“I want you inside me,” she said. “Like desperately. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” 

“All day? Really?” he asked, grinning. 

“Well, maybe even longer than all day. Maybe since Margot asked us if we’d want to share a room.”

“I have too,” he said as he pulled down his boxers. He watched as her eyes flickered down to his cock. 

He didn’t want to make it too intense the first time. There’d be other occasions when he could try all the things he wanted to do with her. So, he nestled himself in between her legs and lined up his cock with her entrance. He gently pushed inside her, and this time, he was the one who let out a moan. 

He propped himself up with his hands as he thrust into her. He couldn’t stop looking into her eyes. Her hands reached up to cup his face, and he kissed her wrist. If this was her altar, he wanted to worship at it every day. 

“You feel so perfect,” he told her. “So perfect for me.” 

“I could have you inside of me forever,” she said back. Conrad grinned and leaned down to kiss her. 

He started quickening his pace, and he could hear himself slapping against her. He didn’t care at this point if his roommates heard. All he cared about was Y/N. He felt a knock inside of his stomach and he knew he was getting close. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” he asked. She shook his head.

“You’re okay,” she murmured. “Are you close?” 

“Yeah baby.” He kept up his quickened pace, until he felt himself snap. He practically collapsed on top of her, but managed to keep himself slightly propped up by his forearms and kissed the side of her face. He was panting as he sat up and pulled outside of her, before laying on his back next to her.

He grabbed two tissues, passing one to her to clean up. They both kissed again.  He heard Y/N giggle, and his eyes flickered over to her. 

“What?” he asked. 

She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing, I’m just so happy that I can’t stop giggling.” Her words made him grin. 

Conrad stood up and grabbed both of their tissues before tossing them in the trash. He pulled his boxers back on, then offered Y/N her underwear. She slipped on her panties and asked Conrad to hand her the nightslip she never got to put on. As she slipped the dress over her head, he pulled down the covers and helped her shuffle underneath the sheets. He slipped in next to her and wrapped her in his arms. 

He pressed a kiss on her forehead and ran his hand along her back. He could feel her heart beating again, as her head rested on his chest. 

“You know, the Romans had this odd idea about the heart,” he started. “They believed there was a vein that ran from your heart to your fourth finger. They called it vena amoris, which means vein of love. Before physicians had a greater understanding of the human body, they believed placing a ring on that finger would cure any ailments. Or even just pinching that finger would do the job.” 

She looked up at him. “You’re telling me about the cardiovascular system just right after having great sex with me?” 

He blushed. “I– Uh- Sorry, I just thought-” 

“No, it’s really hot.” 

***

The next morning, Y/N was the first one up. She slipped out early to go teach a yoga class. Conrad was struggling to convince himself to get up for a run, but after staring at the ceiling for 15 minutes, he eventually got up. 

It was already sweltering, even though it wasn’t even 9 a.m. yet. Conrad didn’t last as long as he normally would on his runs just because of how intense the heat felt. He booked it straight to the kitchen and chugged water as soon as he walked back in, then headed to his room to shower. 

By the time he was out, Y/N was walking into the bedroom. “Jeez, it’s so hot outside today. I felt like my car’s AC couldn’t keep up,” she said. She was flinging off her yoga pants and sports bra, and throwing it into Conrad’s hamper. He liked how comfortable she felt around him. 

“I didn’t even finish my full run,” he admitted. “It was too hot.” 

“I’m going to be in the pool for most of this July 4th function.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips, then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As she got ready, Conrad headed downstairs to see if Emory needed any help setting up. Emory had gone all out for the event, ordering tons of alcohol and even a mechanical bull. It would be one of the most extravagant July 4th parties Conrad ever attended. 

His heart ached as he thought of his previous Independence Days in Cousins Beach with his mom, Jeremiah, Belly, Steven and Laurel. He yearned for his mom’s cake. Hell, he even missed the pomegranate margaritas that Belly’s dad’s girlfriend taught them one year. 

Jeremiah still hadn’t responded to any of his texts since the wedding, but that didn’t stop Conrad from trying. He found a photo in his camera roll from 10 years ago, when they were still awkward teenagers. They had posed for a photo with their mom out by the pool. Everyone was smiling brightly, and he could even see his dad grilling in the background.

He sent the photo to Jeremiah with a text that read: Happy 4th. Miss you Jer. Hope you’re having a good time in Cousins. Wish we could be there with mom. 

Conrad sighed as he shut his phone. It was always odd trying to contact Jeremiah. He tried to see his brother at Christmas, but he bailed at the last minute. On the anniversary of their mother’s passing, Conrad only saw his father and Laurel. He chatted with Steven on the phone for a bit, and even though Steven felt like a brother, it never replaced the grief he knew that Jeremiah understood the most. 

Conrad had harbored this deep-seated sense of isolation for years. Sometimes, he swore it clung to his bones – it was as much a part of his DNA as all of the nucleotides. 

He was about to text Laurel, too, but then he heard a, “YEAHHHHH BUDDYYYYY!” and remembered his original intent of walking downstairs.

Emory was standing in front of the front door, which was cracked open. There were cases of beer, seltzers and some liquor outside. Hale was on his left, also grinning. 

“Holy shit,” Hale said. 

“This is for today?” Conrad asked, finishing his walk down the stairs. 

“Yup,” Emory replied, glancing over at him. “We need to put it in the coolers in that bar in the back. I got some ice back there already. Then, Conrad, I’m gonna need you and Teddy on breakfast duty while Hale and I work on getting everyone to help set up.” 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Hale said. 

Conrad laughed to himself, thinking of the time Y/N called Emory the CEO of their trips. He’d never seen Emory so functional. They moved like cogs in a well-oiled machine, as they hauled the cases of alcohol toward the backyard. They each cracked open the cases and placed the cans into the bar one at a time. They set up the liquor on shelves behind the bar, so the bartenders Emory hired would have an easy time grabbing drinks.

From there, Conrad knocked on Teddy and Tess’s door, and explained that he and Teddy were responsible for cooking breakfast. The rest of the house was in the backyard, helping blow up pool floaties and balloons. Some of the girls were coordinating decorations around the pool house, and Emory was on the phone with the people he hired to bring a mechanical bull. Conrad was chuckling to himself as he observed the group and flipped bacon.

“Crazy to think we barely knew these guys a few weeks ago,” Teddy said. “Remember when we were talking in this kitchen and you were telling me about how the only girl you really talked to was Y/N?” 

Conrad chuckled. “Remember when I said it was too early to say if I was into someone and Tess immediately picked up that I had a crush on Y/N later that day?” They both laughed. 

Conrad looked out the window to see where Y/N was. She was sitting criss-cross on a lounge chair and working on blowing up a hot dog pool floatie. He reminisced on what it was like to hold her as they fell asleep last night. 

When they finished cooking breakfast, Teddy and Conrad brought dishes full of food out to set on their big outdoor table. Conrad placed a jug of orange juice and pitcher full of iced coffee out. 

Emory was the first one to get to the table. He was thrilled the mechanical bull was on its way. The rest of the group trickled in, and it was unspoken among all of them that Y/N would sit next to Conrad. As they ate breakfast together, Conrad occasionally squeezed Y/N’s leg under the table.

“God, if this is how hot it’s going to be for most of the party, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” Stassi remarked. 

“Aw, come on, that’s what the pool is for,” Emory replied. 

“I was just telling Conrad this morning I’ll be in the pool for most of this party,” Y/N said. “We might have to get some sprinklers out too, just because of how bad the heat is gonna be.” 

“I agree,” Teddy said, as he turned his phone toward the group. The weather app was pulled up. “It’s gonna be in the upper 90s in the afternoon. We’ll have to make sure people are drinking water and coming inside to cool down.” 

“Okay, Dr. Patton,” Tess teased, nudging him slightly. Teddy grinned at his girlfriend. 

“Guys, I kind of scheduled another surprise for us too,” Hale said slyly, leaning back in his chair. “Emory, you’re going to love it.” Emory raised an eyebrow. “I got us a dunk tank that’s on the way.” 

Emory beamed, and Lexi laughed. “What even is the budget for this party?” she asked. “Like how much did you have to pay for that?” 

“It’s only $250 for eight hours,” Hale said. “I just have to be the one to fill it, but it should get here right before our party starts.” He looked over at Emory. “How much was the bull?” 

“Like, over $1,000,” Emory said. “But I got my parents to pitch in.” 

“Your parents are going to help us pay off our mid-20s July 4th party?” Margot asked. Austin sat on her right side, and his arm was slung around her shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Emory said, shrugging. “We gotta have a good July 4th.”

Stassi shook her head, mostly to herself, as she took another bite of her hashbrowns. Conrad glanced over at Y/N. She was already looking at him. They both smiled at each other and turned back to their food. 

***

After breakfast, Conrad focused on washing the plates and utensils with Teddy while the rest of the group finished decorating. They heard Emory holler and watched him dap up Hale as the mechanical bull came in. 

About an hour before the party was supposed to start, some of the girls went upstairs to get ready. Teddy and Conrad started placing some of their snacks in bowls and on platters. They both joked with each other that they were the unofficial chefs of the day. (Though Hale and Emory pledged they’d take on grilling to kick off the party.) 

Y/N walked downstairs in one of Conrad’s linen button downs. It was completely open, revealing a white bikini with printed cherries all over it. She was wearing cut off denim shorts, presumably over her bikini bottoms. Conrad couldn’t stop looking at her. He walked over to her and grabbed her by her hips. 

“You look amazing,” he said, eyeing the way his shirt hung off her shoulders. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. 

“Thank you baby,” she said. 

Tess had come down the stairs shortly after, similarly hugging and kissing Teddy. “We got the rest of this,” she said. “Why don’t you guys go upstairs to change so everyone’s ready once people start showing up?” 

Conrad went up to his room to change. He slipped on a pair of navy swim shorts and a white t-shirt. He put on one of his old pairs of beach loafers that his mom used to insist he wear for July 4th instead of flip-flops. 

When he got back downstairs, Emory was hauling a large speaker outside. Apparently, a DJ would come later in the evening, but for now, they were going to rely on a playlist curated by the house. Conrad had added “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley, since his mom and Laurel used to play it every July 4th while they were grilling. He remembered how he used to jump around with Belly, Jeremiah and Steven when they were all in elementary school. Sometimes, his mom would run over and twirl him around. 

“Chocolate” by The 1975 came on, and the sound of the guitar opening up the song snapped him back to the present. Hale was trying to convince Emory to be the first one to go into the dunk tank, while Stassi was egging it on. Y/N was sitting by the edge of the pool with Margot, Lexi and Tess, while Teddy and Austin were in a deep conversation.

So, he grabbed a few water bottles and walked over to the edge of the pool. He handed each of the girls one. 

“Wow, thanks Conrad,” Margot said as she twisted the cap off. 

“He and Teddy will be like this for the rest of the party,” Tess said. “They turn into a pair of dads, especially if we’re having a darty.” 

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I just worry about you guys, okay.” 

“At least someone is,” Margot remarked, as she took a sip of her water. Conrad could detect the slight huff in her tone, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Did something happen?” Conrad asked.

“Austin has just been acting a little weird since he showed up,” Lexi explained, glancing over at Margot’s boyfriend. “He’s not normally so… withdrawn.”

Conrad looked over at Austin, recollecting how quiet he had been over the past 24 hours. “You don’t think it’s just nerves? It’s a big house and he’s meeting a lot of people at once.” 

Margot shook her head. “Something just feels off about it.” She cocked her head as she studied her boyfriend from afar. “I feel like he’s avoiding looking at me, and I don’t know why. I don’t like this insecurity I’m feeling.” 

Conrad wasn’t sure if he should pry more, but before he could put much more thought into it, Emory had started welcoming people into the house. 

After about an hour, the party was in full-swing. Hale ended up being the first one to go in the dunk tank, and he eventually flew into the water after Stassi made a good hit. The two of them were giggling as he walked out of the tank. Austin, Teddy, Emory and Lexi were all gathered by the grill. Conrad chose to hang out with Tess, Margot and Y/N in the pool. He noticed Lexi glance over at Stassi and Hale laughing together.

“Ugh, I feel like I need to apply more sunscreen every five minutes,” Y/N remarked. “I cannot believe how hot it is today.” 

“Yeah, I’m surprised our A/C is even remotely able to keep up,” Margot said. “I keep feeling so parched, even though we’re in the water.” 

“It’s probably because you need electrolytes,” Conrad said. 

“Okay, Dr. Fisher,” she said. “I’ll go get some Gatorade.” 

“I think I could use a break from swimming to get some water,” Y/N said, as she started moving toward the ladder to climb out.

They all decided to get out to take a break. Conrad walked toward his towel. He heard his phone chime with a text and picked it up. He froze when he saw it was from Belly. It was atypical for her to reach out to him. Happy Fourth of July, it read. Missed you in Cousins this year. 

It was the most she’d said to him in about a year. He almost couldn’t believe it was on his phone. He quickly replied. Thanks Belly. Hope you’re having a good holiday with Jer and your family. 

He let out a long breath. He realized there was a chance his brother may have texted him while he was in the pool and scrolled through his notifications to see. Still, there was nothing. But Conrad remained optimistic – if Belly was feeling comfortable enough to talk to him again, maybe Jeremiah felt that way too. 

“You okay?” Y/N asked, walking up to his side and squeezing his arm. She had a large water bottle in her hand. 

“Oh, hey, yeah,” he said. He set his phone back down. 

“Are you sure? You just looked a little… out of it,” she said. 

He shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay,” he insisted. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.” He knew she didn’t believe him based off of the way she was searching his eyes. “Hey, why don’t we take a spin at the mechanical bull? We haven’t gone over there yet today. Then maybe eat after?” 

“Okay, okay,” she agreed. “Let’s go do that.” 

***

After a few more hours of partying, Conrad walked back into the house to grab him and Y/N a beer. He spotted Hale and Stassi talking on the couch. Her eyes were bright as she giggled at something he said. Margot briskly walked in and went upstairs, likely to her own bedroom. Conrad was about to walk back toward the pool when he heard his phone ring. 

Jeremiah was calling him. 

He set down the two beers and moved toward the front of the house. He swung open the front door and stepped into their driveway, grinning as he picked up the phone. 

“Hey man, happy fourth, it’s good to hear from you,” Conrad said. “What have you guys been up to today?” 

“Well, Con, let me tell ya about it,” his brother replied. His words were more drawn out than usual. “I thought I was going to hang out with my wife all day today, but last night, right before we even left for Cousins, she tells me that she doesn’t think we should be together anymore.”

Conrad was taken aback. He froze up. 

“I-I’m sorry Jer,” Conrad stammered out. “I can’t imagine.” 

“Well you know what the worst part is? She mentioned she’s been thinking about the stuff that happened last year with you. Apparently, on her bachelorette night, she started freaking out thinking about how the only person she pictured marrying was you. Taylor witnessed it, and on our wedding day, Taylor tried to convince Belly to call off the wedding. All because of you.” 

Conrad’s heart was hammering in his chest. He didn’t know Belly had any doubts about the wedding. She’d been so adamant about marrying Jeremiah, even kicking Conrad out of the event to appease her now-husband. 

“Jer, look, I will apologize every day for the rest of my life if you need me to,” Conrad said. “I feel awful. I’ve always wanted to protect you and make sure you’re happy. Look, I’m sorry that things are over between you guys now, but … I don’t think this is entirely on me either.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Jeremiah said. “You were waiting all of last summer for just the right time to sneak your way back in. You chose that over caring about your brother.” 

“Jeremiah, that’s not fair and you know that.” 

“You are one of the most selfish people I know,” Jeremiah said. Then, he promptly hung up. 

Conrad stood there for a second, feeling dumbfounded. He had somehow managed to ruin everything – again. His phone was shaking in his hand. His mind was consumed by thoughts that he was just as selfish as his brother said he was. Suddenly, the heat felt too much. He was trying to breathe deeply, but he couldn’t get enough oxygen while inhaling.

He saw as the first firework went off, flashing a bright burst that illuminated the whole driveway. He watched as an array of colors lit up the sky. He could vaguely hear people from the party cheering as they watched the show, and he struggled to steady his breath. 

“Conrad!” he heard Y/N call out. She grabbed his arm. He could barely register her face as he kept hyperventilating. All he could focus on was the way her hand felt as it pressed on his chest. Her other hand rested on his right shoulder. “Breathe with me,” she said. “We’ll start with inhaling.” 

She started exaggerating long inhales and exhales, all while looking directly into his eyes. He reached one hand out to cover her own heart, as he tried to even the pace of his breath with hers. He kept focusing on the way her soft hands felt on him, and how her warmth felt inviting rather than suffocating. 

Eventually, his breath steadied out. Y/N immediately moved in to hug him, and he felt himself collapse against her. He watched as streaks of light burst in the sky, and he breathed into Y/N’s neck. 

“What do you need?” she asked him. 

“Nothing, I’m- I’m fine,” he said. He stepped out, taking a deep breath in again. “Sorry, I think I need to go inside for a minute, and just relax.” 

“Okay,” she said, nodding her head. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I just need a second.” 

He crept up the stairs. As soon as he stepped into his room, he collapsed on his bed. He stared up at his ceiling, watching as the fireworks briefly lit up his bedroom. He didn’t know how long he laid there – if it was 10 minutes or an hour – but he didn’t get out of his funk until he heard people thundering up the stairs. He sat up. 

“You need to leave right now!” It sounded like Margot. “I don’t ever want to see you in this house ever again! Don’t talk to me ever again!” Conrad flew to his door. He peered out from beyond the doorframe, only to see Margot throw her bedroom door open and grab a bag that had been on the ground. She threw the bag at Austin, who was chasing after her. 

“Margot, I’m sorry! It didn’t even mean anything!” he said. She had been pulling cords out from the walls and throwing some of his shirts at him. 

“No, fuck you. Fuck off. Go home,” she growled out. 

“Margot-” Austin started. Conrad stepped out fully into the hallway and cleared his throat. Austin spun his head around. 

“Hey, she asked you to leave,” Conrad said. “So I think you gotta go.”

Austin looked back over at Margot, whose lips were pressed tightly together. She simply shook her head at him. Austin let out a deep sigh. “All right, I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll- I’ll call you tomorrow.” He picked up some of the charging cables and clothes that had been thrown at him, and he shoved the items in his bag. He lifted the bag up his shoulders and walked down the stairs. When he was out of sight, Conrad spun around to look at Margot. 

She was still standing in front of her bedroom. Her face was completely flat, but he could tell she was angry based on how heavy her breaths were. 

“What happened?” Conrad asked. 

She opened her mouth, then promptly closed it after letting out an exhale. She threw her hand over her face and just said, “He is such a motherfucker.” 

Lexi flew up to the top of the stairs. Her eyes were wide as she took in Margot. “Stassi told me that you looked pissed. What happened?” she asked. 

Margot shook her head. “Austin fucking cheated on me. I got a DM from a girl after I posted a photo of the two of us on Instagram together. Apparently, he hooked up with one of her friends four weeks ago, and they’ve been seeing each other while he’s been in California.” 

“What the fuck?!” Lexi exclaimed. 

“Shit, Margot, I’m so sorry,” Conrad said. He shoved all thoughts of Belly and Jeremiah aside, as he moved toward Margot. He and Lexi wrapped their arms around her. Margot cracked immediately, and she started crying. She was practically dry-heaving as she wracked out her sobs. 

After a few minutes of them holding her up, her tears slowed down. She stepped away from both of them, then wiped underneath her eyelids, slightly smiling. “Now that’s the last time I’ll let myself cry over him or think about him,” she said. She threw her hands out. “Fuck him forever.” 

“Are you sure?” Lexi asked. “It’s okay if you want to cry about it again.” 

Margot shook her head. “No, it’s July 4th. I’m going to focus on having a good rest of the night.” 

“Okay,” Lexi said, nodding her head and shooting Conrad a look.

They both walked down the stairs with Margot. When they reached the living room, Margot beelined to go get another drink at the bar. 

“I got this,” Lexi said to Conrad, then followed after Margot.

He stood still in the hallway and took a minute to get readjusted to his surroundings. He could hear the bass drop as some Kesha song played in the backyard. He watched as the DJ bounced in the makeshift booth Emory assembled, and a crowd danced around him. Emory was deep in a conversation with a girl on their patio. He glanced further to Emory’s left, and he could make out Y/N near a lounge chair talking to Tess and Teddy. 

A door opened down the hall and he glanced to his left. Stassi was walking out of Hale’s room. She gave him a small smile, before going upstairs. He noticed she was wiping tears. 

It seemed like everyone was having a bad night. 

All of the events from the summer hit him at once. He thought of telling Stassi to talk to Hale about how she felt, and how it motivated him to finally make a move on Y/N. He reminisced on how hopeful he got after his first date with Y/N. But then he would hear Jeremiah’s voice in his mind telling him, “You are one of the most selfish people I know!”

Maybe it wasn’t a permanent feeling of isolation that was interwoven in his DNA. Maybe he had been the problem all along. His grief rendered him into a person he didn’t even know anymore. 

He started instinctively cleaning up the empty cans and cups in the backyard. At least the cleanliest of the house was something he could control. 

***

At about 1 a.m., the last batch of people were clearing out of the house. Conrad had stopped drinking, and he was instead focusing on making sure the backyard was clear of any food items that would attract racoons or other animals. 

Y/N walked up behind him and gave him a hug, but he felt numb to it. He simply gave her a smile, before finding another piece of trash to toss away. 

“Hey, Lexi is going to stay in Margot’s room tonight, so my room is open again,” she said. She seemed slightly nervous as she was talking to him. “Do you still want me to stay in your room tonight? Or should I go back to my room?” 

Conrad let out a long breath. It felt like too much to be around her at that moment. “I- I think you should stay in your room,” he said. 

Her face fell. “Oh, okay,” she said. 

“I’m sorry, I just- I think I’m gonna need some space for a while,” he said. “It’s- It’s nothing to do with you, I’m just gonna need a break.” He noticed there were tears glimmering in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, I get it.” She promptly went back inside. 

“Y/N,” he called out. It was too late. Conrad watched as she trudged up the stairs. 

They didn’t say goodnight to each other that night. As Conrad climbed into his bed that night, he noticed the pillow on the left side of his bed smelled like Y/N. 

***

The next morning, Conrad was one of the first ones awake. He was in the kitchen making coffee when Emory’s door swung open. The girl Emory was talking to last night stumbled out, and she gave Conrad a polite smile as she walked out of the house. Conrad laughed to himself, then flipped some of the French toast he was cooking. As he cooked, Jeremiah’s call replayed over and over again in his mind. 

He just finished plating a whole stack of French toast for the house when Margot walked into the kitchen. She looked composed, though her eyes were puffy, likely from crying last night. She greeted him as she opened the fridge to grab some orange juice. 

“Hey, I’m making some French toast, if you want some.” Her eyes brightened and she walked over to the stove to grab two pieces. “Feeling any better today?” he asked. 

“Out of sight, out of mind,” she replied, as she walked over to a stool by the kitchen island. “At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.”

“Did you block him on social media?” 

Margot shook her head. “Nope, I’m going to let him see what he fumbled.” He looked back at her, and she was grinning. “I’m determined to pull myself together. If not today, maybe tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to push yourself to be okay.” 

“I know, but… I don’t want to spend the rest of our summer here groveling over a man who did me dirty like that,” she replied. 

Conrad and Margot moved over to the couches to watch “Practical Magic,” Margot’s comfort movie, while the rest of the house slowly started waking up. He watched as his summer roommates stumbled into the kitchen. They were all quiet, especially Hale and Lexi. He noticed Lexi sharply inhale once Stassi walked into the room.

He glanced over at Margot, who was eyeing the interaction out of the corner of her eye. She made eye contact with Conrad and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.” 

He avoided looking at Y/N as she walked downstairs. He couldn’t bear to see the pain in her eyes. Margot was rambling about how she should never have dated a man. 

He wasn’t paying attention when Stassi first started opening the bottle of the prosecco. At least, not until he heard a loud pop and Lexi yelp. Both he and Margot spun around, and saw Lexi clutching her side. The bottle of prosecco was fizzing onto the tile. Everyone had their mouths agape. Hale’s eyes were wide. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Stassi asked, setting down the bottle and running over to Lexi. 

“Did you do that on purpose?” Lexi demanded. 

“No, no, I would never-” 

“I’ve had it up to here with your shit, Stassi,” Lexi said, jutting her hand up. “And now you fucking bruise me?” 

“That’s not-” 

“You are such a fucking-” 

By then, it was nearly impossible to discern what either of them were saying. They were yelling over each other, and it didn’t help that their voices sounded so similar. 

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA. ENOUGH!” Emory called out, stepping in between them. The whole house was silent. No one had ever heard Emory raise his voice like that before. Conrad didn’t even think he’d ever heard Emory sound that serious before. They all stared at Emory as he clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. He let out an exhale, then slowly opened his eyes. “House meeting, living room, everyone.” 

They all quietly shuffled to sit with Margot and Conrad on the couches. Lexi plopped next to Margot, but Y/N sat on the opposite couch – right next to Tess and Stassi. 

Once everyone was settled, Emory cleared his throat. “Everyone in this house has been weird and tense this morning. There’s whatever is going on between you three.” He gestured toward Lexi, Hale and Stassi. “Margot’s grumpy – and I get why. And Conrad and Y/N haven’t looked each other in the eye once all morning. This is not what I wanted this summer to be for any of us. This summer should be fun. It’s going to be one of the only summers we get to do this. Conrad and Teddy are going to be buried in their clinical rotations next year. Y/N is going to Brown. And who knows when we’ll be able to see Stassi again, since she’s always traveling the world?” He stood up and walked over to pick up a light up cowboy hat that had been on one of the bookshelves. “So, here’s the rule. Whoever has the cowboy hat gets to speak. Everyone is going to listen, and we’re not going to come for each other. Because, whether you like it or not, for this summer, we’re a family.” He lifted up the hat. “So, who wants to take it first?” 

There was a beat of silence. Everyone stared at each other. Then, Margot lifted her hand. 

“Okay, fuck it, why not, go ahead Margot,” Emory said, passing the hat over to her. 

She placed it on her head. “I regret encouraging Lexi to pursue Hale, because the fight between Stassi and Lexi feels ridiculous. I’m sorry to my friend, but the problem is clearly Hale,” Margot immediately said. All three of them spun their heads around to face Margot.

“How am I the problem?” Hale scoffed. 

“Hey,” Emory called out. “Only the person with the hat is allowed to speak.”

“Because you’re playing these two girls. I saw you at the party yesterday,” Margot continued. “You barely talked to Lexi, and the whole time, you were flirting with Stassi like you didn’t just toy with her heart a few months ago. And I get it, they are beautiful girls. I would want to be around both of them as much as possible, but it’s creating this divide in the house that’s so pointless.” 

Stassi shook her head and raised her hand. Emory reached his hand out for the cowboy hat, and then handed it to Stassi. She cleared her throat. “I think that I messed everything up.” Lexi snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh you know what, actually fuck off because-” 

“OKAY!” Emory called out, plucking the hat off of Stassi’s head. “We’re going to come back to Stassi, Hale and Lexi.” He held out the hat toward Conrad and then Y/N. Neither of them leaned forward to grab it. “C’mon, it’s gotta be one of you. Everyone can tell something is off.” 

Conrad still kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure where to even begin talking about what happened last night, and how it impacted his relationship with Y/N. 

“Okay, I’ll go ahead and do it,” Y/N said, reaching out her hand. Emory passed her the cowboy hat. After it was on, Y/N said, “Conrad told me he wanted to go on a break last night. So, I don’t know, we decided we’re taking a pause on seeing each other. I don’t know if it means that we’re over.” 

Conrad was surprised. He didn’t think of their encounter as a break up. He shook his head. “No, no. That’s not what I-” 

Margot scrunched her eyebrows together, then looked over at Conrad. “Why did you do that?” 

“I didn’t-” he started again. 

“Okay, HAT! HAT ONLY,” Emory exclaimed again. The room was silent again. He waved to Y/N. “You may continue now.” 

She shrugged. “That’s really all. I understand either way, and I just want him to be happy.” She took off the cowboy hat and passed it back over to Emory. 

Emory held it out to Conrad. Conrad gulped. He looked over at Y/N. She appeared defeated as she curled up in her chair, staring at the hat. 

“Conrad, c’mon, you know we wouldn’t judge you,” Margot said. His eyes snapped to her. She was lightly nudging him. “For some reason, you act like we’re all going to pull away at any moment, and none of us are. You can tell us what’s going on.” Teddy gave Conrad a quick nod. 

So, he took a big inhale in, and he put on the hat. He started telling the group everything. He talked about his breakup with Belly, and how after watching Jeremiah and Belly kiss, he decided to pull away from his family. He told them about how he found out his dad cheated on his mom, and his brother continued that cycle. All the words he wanted to say over the past few years seemed to pour out of him, and his roommates sat there, listening attentively. 

He started building the narrative of last night – seeing the text from Belly, and the subsequent phone call from Jeremiah. When it was time to talk about his panic attack, he was stuttering the words out. He tried to meet Y/N’s eyes, but she was looking at the ground. 

“Y/N, when I saw you last night, I wasn’t trying to break up with you,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was overwhelmed and I needed to be alone. That was it. I wasn’t trying to end things at all. I don’t want to end things.” 

Once he was done, he felt his shoulders sag. Margot was staring at him, frowning. It was different to be able to share everything he felt, without having someone yelling at him or berating him immediately after. 

When he set the hat back down on the coffee table, Margot picked it up and placed it on her head. 

“I don’t think you’re the selfish one, Conrad,” she said. “I think if anything, the problem is that you’re too selfless. You’re taking on too much of your brother’s pain to let yourself be happy. I think it’s your brother’s fault his relationship failed, because he literally cheated on her. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have told her you loved her right before the wedding, but I think she still would have left him anyway.” She glanced over at Y/N. “I don’t think because of any of that you should have shut Y/N out. This relationship is something new that has nothing to do with your brother or your ex, and you have to think of it that way. It’s not fair to you or to her to let your past have such a hold on what’s going on with you now.” 

Conrad nodded his head, digesting Margot’s words. He knew she was right. His therapist had told him as much over the years – that he needed to do a better job of opening up rather than quickly putting his guard up. He glanced back over at Y/N, who was now looking directly at him. 

“Do you need the hat back, Y/N?” Emory asked. Y/N shook her head. He glanced back over at the trio that had already started arguing this morning. Lexi was still glaring at Stassi. “Okay, not getting to that one yet. Teddy, I’m gonna give you the hat.” 

Teddy chuckled as the cowboy hat was placed on his head. “I don’t really know what to say. I want everyone to figure their stuff out. I truly think Conrad is into Y/N but he’s a really reserved person. I don’t know what’s going on with Lexi, Hale and Stassi at all, but I don’t think Stassi was intentionally trying to hurt you this morning, Lexi. Someone was fucking around with that bottle yesterday at the party. Uh, other than that, I love my girlfriend and I think she’s beautiful. I’ve had fun with you guys so far this summer, and I hope like Emory said, we can all keep having fun.” He handed the cowboy hat back to Emory. 

“Okay, I-” He let out an exhale. “I think we’re ready to try one of you three again, but let’s like, try to talk to each other this time.” 

“Remember what I said,” Margot said. Emory shot her a look as he offered the hat up. 

Hale was the one to grab it. “I don’t actually think that this is all my fault. I tried to pursue Stassi years ago, and she rejected me and moved away. So, suddenly she tells me she has feelings for me and we hook up, but I’ve never known Stassi to stay and truly date someone. I didn’t think that was anything that would change anytime soon, and I don’t think I can take having my heart broken by Stassi again. Okay? Does that please everyone?” He practically flung the hat back toward Emory. 

There was not one mention of Lexi. Conrad tried not to audibly wince. 

Stassi reached for the hat. She glanced over at Lexi. “I wasn’t trying to sabotage your relationship.” Lexi scoffed. “No, Lexi, I swear. I have liked Hale for such a long time. It had nothing to do with you, and all of this started before we even got here.” She sighed. “To catch everyone up, last night, I told Hale that I was in love with him. I was talking to Conrad a few weeks ago, and he was talking to me about how he learned how important it is to say how you feel. I’ve been thinking about how I feel about Hale, and yesterday, after we started talking at the party, it really hit me that I don’t want to be away from him. I’m sorry. I should have talked to you, though, privately, or at least tried to form some bond with you. I get why you don’t like me.” 

She took off the hat and handed it to Lexi, who already had her hand out expectantly. 

“Look, I want to like you,” Lexi started. “I just have felt like you’ve been coming for me in some way or another all summer. First, I hear from Margot that on the night I kissed Hale, you were talking about how upset you were about it. You and I never talk about it once. Instead, it’s like talking to a brick wall every single time we even try to have a conversation. And then, last night happened. If I would’ve known you guys have such this intense crazy history, which evidently, doesn’t seem to be done either, then I wouldn’t have gotten myself involved in it in the first place. I don’t want to be some backburner choice, and honestly Hale, with what you just said, that’s kind of how you’re making me feel.” She took off the hat. 

Tess cleared her throat and reached for the hat. “I think we’re starting to phase into the part where everyone has their own private conversation, rather than us all talking about it as a group. I think Y/N and Conrad should talk in private. And then the three of you guys have some stuff to figure out.” She pointed to Lexi, Hale and Stassi. “But I think Emory’s right that we should all get this hashed out, so we can move forward this summer and have some peace in the house.” She looked around the group. “Does everyone feel okay with that?” 

“I definitely do,” Hale muttered, already standing up. 

Margot nudged Conrad and jutted her chin toward Y/N. She was heading upstairs, likely to her room. So he stood up and started following her. 

Her bedroom door was wide open. He knocked on the frame, but noticed she was sitting out on the balcony attached to her room. He mulled over whether he should walk out there, given he’d have to walk through her space to get the balcony. But he reflected on the advice he’d given Stassi earlier this summer – that it was always better to just say how you felt – and now, he’d witnessed through her situation the outcome of withholding those feelings. It gave him the courage to walk out to the balcony. 

He opened up the door. Y/N was curled up on one of the outdoor couches. Her head quickly turned to look at him. 

“Hey,” he said, giving her a small smile. She greeted him back, and he took it as permission to approach her cautiously. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you a little bit more about yesterday.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen, I meant what I said out there. I really wasn’t trying to end things with you.” 

She nodded her head. “I- I know. I’m sorry. I think I just got freaked that you were leaving and I was a little drunk. After you said all that stuff today, I was going over our conversation again, and I realized that wasn’t what you were trying to say.” She sighed.  “But I don’t know. Sometimes, my brain gets into this anxious state and I started writing this narrative in my head that we were over. I know I shouldn’t have assumed that. I should’ve tried talking to you. I think it was tougher, because after we had sex, I really felt like I was certain we were going to move toward being girlfriend and boyfriend officially. And then, after you said we needed a break, not even 24 hours after that, I kind of got scared.” 

“Can I- Can I sit next to you?” he asked. She nodded her head, and he plopped down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you question any of that. That night with you meant a lot to me, and I still want to be with you.” He cleared his throat. “I want to be really clear about this with you, because I don’t want you to guess what I’m thinking. And I tend to do that a lot – put people in positions where they’re guessing how I’m feeling. I really, really like you, Y/N, and not just in some summer fling way. I don’t want to let any of the stuff from my past compromise me from being happy anymore. And when I’m with you, I’m truly happy.” 

She smiled. “I really like you too, and not just in a summer fling way either.” 

He leaned back and started playing with his fingers. “Would you still want to be my girlfriend?”

She nudged him. “Is that your way of trying to ask me?” 

He shook his head. “No, no. Sorry. Let me try that again.” He shifted his body slightly so he could face her. “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?” 

She smiled. And then, she leaned forward and kissed him. He took the kiss as a yes.

***

They were giggling as they walked down the stairs later that day, hand in hand. Teddy raised his eyebrow as they entered the living room. 

“You guys are good?” he asked. They both looked at each other and nodded their heads. 

Both Stassi and Lexi walked out of Hale’s room. They were both beaming and joking with each other. It was such a shift from their behavior this morning. They also stopped in the living room. 

“So, it looks like everyone figured their stuff out,” Conrad said, smiling at the two of them. 

Emory popped out of his bedroom. “Wait, really? I can’t believe that worked. What happened?” 

Lexi and Stassi looked at each other. “Well… we’re a throuple now!” Stassi said. Conrad’s jaw dropped, then he quickly shut it. 

“Wait, what? What did you just say?” Emory asked. The two girls were giggling.

Lexi eventually shook her head. “We were kidding,” she said. “We all kind of decided to put things on pause and focus on being friends for a bit. It’s the best thing for everyone, at least until we all move out of the house.” 

“So… should we have drinks tonight to celebrate?” Emory asked. “Like everyone being good?” 

Half of the group groaned. “Emory, we’re still hungover,” Teddy said. 

Emory shrugged. “So? It’s the best way to get over it.” 

After enough convincing, they all agreed. So, later that night, the nine of them sat out in the lounge chairs in their backyard, clad in their swimsuits and with spritzes in hands. Emory grabbed the speaker again and started playing “She’s a Rainbow” by The Rolling Stones as a way of referencing the first time the group all hung out together. 

Y/N was sharing one of the lounge chairs with Conrad. She was curled up on his chest while the group all chatted and joked with each other. He looked down at her, reminiscing on how taken aback he was when he first saw her. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead and held her tightly. 

He surveyed his house full of roommates. Margot was in the middle of telling a story about how she should have known Austin wasn’t her person, while the rest of the group was listening closely. For the first time in weeks, Stassi and Lexi were seated next to each other, giggling as they listened to Margot talk. Hale cracked open a beer, and he clinked it against Emory’s glass as he sat back down on one of the lounge chairs. Tess and Teddy were also cuddling, giving small glances at each other as they listened to the story.  For the first time in a long time, Conrad felt like he was truly a part of something. He belonged. Maybe his brother was still mad at him, and maybe he still wouldn’t be able to go back to Cousins Beach next summer. But this moment, with Y/N and the rest of his roommates, was enough.

[wheezyreads]

this was so cute

but like respectfully, fuck belly

[gaybybirth]

feral attraction and unfortunate necessities 

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (NSFW) 

Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0 // AO3

Synopsis: Once upon a time, seeing Eddie would’ve been a sign of comfort and fun. But it’d been quite a few years since he elicited that reaction. So when he shows up one night, waiting for you by the side of the empty trail, looking at you with those brown eyes glowing red, there’s more than just annoyance. He’s owed something since getting in with the wrong crowd. And since that crowd’s your blood, you’re the only person he can think to take to get what he’s owed. It’s one hell of a reunion–not that you even wanted one in the first place. 

Warnings: dead dove: don’t eat - angst, fluffy/soft moments, nsfw content; mentioned Eddie x OC, childhood best friends to lovers to haters then back to lovers, implied unhappy ending, kidnapping, being forcibly restrained (hands above head on a hook, feet barely on the ground) & stripped (to underwear), bondage (ropes, handcuffs), Eddie slaps the reader once, rough handling/manhandling, noncon tickling, bodily fluids as an aphrodisiac, breeding kink, mention of off-page character deaths, blindfolding, threats, a slew of sex toys mentioned but the only one used is a vibrator (consensually), Eddie forcibly spits in the reader’s mouth, finger sucking, noncon choking + covering the reader’s mouth & nose, (more warnings listed under the cut)

Word Count: 17.5k

A/N: This is probably a weird one to start off Kinktober, but it’s a little unhinged, a little fluffy in weird places, and it feels right to pave the way for the even more unhinged fics I’ve got planned this year :) Sorry about the weird setup with the warnings! They’re…long :) 

Warnings continued: eddie’s in heat repeatedly throughout the story, jealousy, consensual -> mentions of past oral, spanking (with a hand, + mentioned in a flashback: with Eddie’s belt), choking, clit stim, nipple stim, rough fingering, rough (vaginal) unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, car sex, overstimulation, holding in cum

*************

Beautiful.

Beneath that full moon, the light white and bright, you smiled at the forest path lined with midnight flowers blooming and twinkling lights in the lower tree branches. They looked much like fireflies in their dim lighting, catching your eye in between the gaps to see the sky. No stars were caught; thin clouds kept passing in their way. 

  It was one of those nights–the kind where there was just enough of a nip that reminded of pumpkin patches and sweet spiced cider. Of trick or treating and crappy old costumes–too plasticky to be comfortable with their horrid factory smell. Ones that somehow lasted forever, no matter the wear and tear, and were stuffed in boxes in some attic. The old and the new all coming together–from round pumpkins to leather skirts and thigh-highs.

October 1st. Mother Nature seemed interested in starting the month just right.

The length of your stride shortened, and your speed slowed. It was the perfect night. A fine dinner with a nice blind date to top it off, too–you were riding the high of that almost kiss. A sweet mint from the mint the restaurant had given you a temptation in their mouth when they smiled real close. 

A good night. A real fantastical, wonderful night.

"Well, doesn't someone look all fucking chipper?"

Leaves rustled underneath that recognizable voice. The pavement under you was suddenly misleveled, and you staggered to a stop. A cold chill sank in your belly like an opening pit. 

Coming from just beside you, peeking out from the side of a tree, you found him. Leaning back, dressed as he always was, leather and jeans, worn sneakers, a hell of a lot of jewelry and a hell of a lot of curly hair catching the wind. Those horrible, piercing red eyes caught you through the flying strands, the glow framed in the brown irises hidden underneath. 

The pit was quick, but if he knew, he'd pounce. He always pounced when you got all nervous around him. So you shoved it down and tipped your head back. With annoyance, you leveled a politely sarcastic smile. 

“Whatcha want, Eddie?” you asked.

He was there. He was seeking you out. The bastard wanted something.

A cigarette was lit between his fingers, and with a little tilt of his head, it was up at his lips, those eyes directly on you. Their interest was obvious enough, but he needed to say it. The dread in your belly grew. Grew and grew under that locked focus. The push of smoke from his nose. The curl in his mocking smile, only there for a moment, but a moment was long enough.

“Got a few problems only you can handle.” 

Yeah, did he? You scoffed and just shook your head. Bullshit. Bullshit.

“And what are those?” you threw back. There was no walking away; there was no pretending he wasn’t there. The second those eyes were set on you, your fate was sealed. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way it went. 

“Your aunt, uncle, and daddy owe me. You know they do.” If he wanted to be technical, you could guess that you knew. Wasn't surprising he was still working for them. Didn't make it any less right. "You know how many jams I've gotten them out of? Christ."

More than you could count. More than you knew. More than you would ever ask about–you wouldn't ask about any.

But you tipped your chin up and continued that feigned confidence he knew you only had from the years together. Before he did this bullshit. Before he was turned.

"Really? You know I'm not in that life. Never was."

Another drag of his cigarette and a gentle gust of wind brought the scent over. Familiar. He'd been smoking the same kind for years. And he still gave you the same look he'd been giving you for all those years.

"Yeah, but you know how that shit reaches everywhere." He pushed up from the tree, and you fought the immediate flinch. What the fuck was he planning? He put the cigarette out under his boot, flicking it aside. There was more rustling. Beside him. Behind you. At the pounding of your heart, your instincts told you to run. But you held still. If you ran, he'd just chase you. "When they don't pay up, (Y/N), I sure as shit gotta take it somewhere else."

Yeah, did he? Your hands twitched.

"You gonna rough me up, Eds?"

That red flashed a little brighter. Always got under his skin some way or another when you called him that. Used to growing up before all of this. Still did after, but it’d never touched him the same. So you should’ve known better, especially under the full moon.

“You gonna make me?” he asked.

A hard swallow was a harsh reminder of how dry your throat suddenly was. That rustling continued until there was striking silence. Had he brought others with him? Really? A twinge in your chest was making looking at him unbearable. He wouldn't kill you, that you were damn certain of, but…. But the full moon. The timing. 

"I was having a real nice night, Eds. Come on." Pleading wasn't typically your move. Wasn't even the move you were aiming for. Eddie knew that, which made this all the more pathetic. But he also knew you. He knew you too damn well to feign ignorance. "Are you really going to take my family's bullshit out on me?"

He shrugged. “Gotta send a message somehow.”

You nodded. Right. Sure. A message. Fuck him. 

"And what message is that?" you shot back. 

The wind was a frigid chill under your dress.

Eddie just scoffed a little and shook his head. It was a smooth move in that breeze. His hair was everywhere in a way only his could be. Fluffy and imperfect with the waves and the curls. His bangs were cut unevenly, and hidden layers flew all over the place.

“We both know you’re gonna fucking run, so just go. We’ll give you ten seconds of a head start.” He waved in both directions down the path. “Which way do you think will get you to help the fastest that you know you won’t reach?”

Pulse pounding, you glanced in both directions. Running out into the woods was a horrendous idea. Going back the way you came, you had the hope of running into someone. Going forward, there was still half a mile until you were off the path. 

And, frustratingly, he was right. He’d catch you. Before you even did more than a few steps, he’d get you. But he’d let you go a bit first. Those ten seconds would let you think you’d gotten away.

Tears started to burn, but you blinked them away as best as you could.

“Are you going to do it here or are we going somewhere else?” you murmured.

“Elsewhere. Gonna hang onto you a bit. Let them know we’ve got you. Give them some time to see if they can repay us properly.” Eddie stepped up onto the path. Stepped up closer. Stride by stride. Right to you. Tip of his sneakers right to the tip of your boots. He smelled the same. He looked the same, just a little older. And there was a lot of brown in the red when he lolled his head aside and gave you that look. “You’re the only one that means anything to ‘em.”

You quirked a brow. How comical, coming from him. Really. Did he not see the damn irony? You snorted out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, and nothing to you?” you whispered.

He had that smile about him. That knowing, annoying smile. Same one he always had, except now his teeth were a little sharper, just like his senses. Ones that could surely smell the underlying fear in you. 

"Well, you're alive, right?" Eddie's hand came up and closed around your upper arm. Tightly, but it didn't quite hurt like it could've. "Think I'd give anyone else that treatment?"

Yeah, he was right about that. But you were right, too. Walking alongside him, moving off the path and into the woods, your night under that full moon was waiting with risks and danger beyond some roughening up. It was that time for him. Soon, at least. Knew it well enough to spot the blown pupils weren’t just from seeing you. Would’ve liked to think that, then you wouldn’t be pressed up against the closest tree while he cuffed your hands together behind your back. Wouldn’t be blindfolded real tight and taken in an unforgiving hold by your upper arms.

Ten years ago, Eddie would’ve never done more than playfully roughhouse with you when you were screwing around. But after getting changed, more than just that changed.

“What are you gonna do with me, Eds?” you muttered, forced to walk forward in the dark. Your boots hit twigs and leaves and roots, but no balance was lost. He kept you on your feet with every step. “What should I expect here?”

"Well, I'm gonna have to make some real annoying phone calls." He kept you going forward. Extra footsteps said you hadn't imagined the others there with him. As if he needed more people to get you. It was just a pointless show of force. "Make some threats. So while I do that, gonna have to tie you up somewhere. Maybe take some pictures; maybe have you talk. Proof of life and shit." A jerk of his hands turned you right. You followed, staggering. "Hope you don't like that dress. Might have to cut it off of you."

“I really like this dress,” you breathed. “So did my date.”

"Well, if you behave, maybe I'll replace it." He shoved you forward a little, one hand dropping away. The growl in his voice was something else speaking. The other part of him. "Just keep behaving just like you are, and this'll go smoothly."

“Unless they don’t pay up,” you threw back.

“Yeah, unless that.” Another shove. There was a quiet, distant beeping. “But, uh, if you don’t behave either, we’ll have a problem, too. Don’t make me have to punish you for something stupid when this can all go real smoothly, (Y/N).”

Something familiar clicked. Creaked. A door. A car door. Your feet touched pavement, and the hands from your arms went to your waist. Strong–he'd gotten so much stronger since the change. And he threw you into the back of the car, dropping you into the seat with a grunt.

He climbed in after you. Buckled you in.

“And what happens if they don’t pay up?” 

His door shut. The car rocked. Two more doors opened. More people climbed in. Keys jingled. The engine turned over.

“Well, shit, you know if they call my bluff, I can’t let it ride.”

You nodded. “If you hurt me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Christ. You already ditched me, (Y/N). Now you’re over here acting like there’s something salvageable between us. C’mon. You made it pretty fucking clear last time we saw each other that I’m a no-good monster. A fucking deadly beast with no humanity left.” His hand was a real warm press over your mid-thigh. Right where your tights met your dress. It pushed the thick hem of your sweater dress up just a little. "So what the fuck are you trying to appeal to with that bullshit? Since I clearly don't have any left?"

Laughter from the front made your chest tighten. How many were there? Where was he bringing you? All you knew for certain was that nothing was going to go your way if you didn't push it there yourself. 

The double meaning in his words was accentuated by a tightening of his grip on your thigh. A real unfair one. That was years ago. A fucking moment of weakness when he came banging on your door in the middle of the night. Sure as hell hadn’t even known he was local, but he was there, hunched over, looking up at you with yellow in those red-glowing eyes. Like the sun. Like the moon. All drenched in blood.

He looked at you the way he had the only other time he'd come asking you for it. Pathetically. Desperately. On the verge of dying–shaking while you stepped aside to let him in. He'd stumbled as far as your living room couch, hands pulling at his shirt. You could've said no. Should've probably done that. But he was yanking off his belt, sputtering your name, sputtering a thanks. A begging, pleading thanks.

With your shorts pulled down only enough to satisfy, you had the armrest of your couch digging into your stomach and hips. Mind gone under the leaking precum being spread by his cock with every thrust inside your cunt. The effects were as mind-shattering as every thrust, every touch, every painful grasp on your hips. You'd lost count of how many times you came over him, and you hadn't tried to even keep count of how many times he came inside of you. Enough that it dripped down the backs of your thighs halfway through.

Enough that you were a dizzy, sopping mess when he fell over you whilst panting and trembling.

“Christ,” he’d breathed, kissing your shoulder. “Sorry. Fuck. I owe you.”

You’d shaken your head. “Don’t want it. This…this wasn’t transactional. W…Was nothing more than pity. Nothing’s fucking changed.” 

Had to be. Eddie wasn't the same Eddie you knew. Genetically or personally. You'd cut him a year...two years ago? Separated yourself. You'd already moved a town over to get away from your family, so it was easy. Fuck that. You were done. Weren't going to get involved. Him showing up like that was just…like you'd said. Pity. Leaving him like that when he showed up begging for you? The pain he'd have been left in would've been astronomical. You weren't heartless.

“Just pity?” he’d growled against your back. “Yeah, and how many times did I just make you cum?” One hand wrestled underneath you. Found you. Found your clit overstimulated and puffy. There was nothing more you could take, nothing more you could give, but then he started rubbing. Light circles that made your toes curl and inner thighs quiver. “This is just fucking pity?”

Left clawing at the couch cushions, gasping into them, he didn't stop. Didn't stop until your feet were lifted from the ground, your face was pushed into the cushion, and your entire body seized up in a near-painful orgasm. 

“Fuck you.” He drew his teeth over your shoulder. It marked his leave. A pushed back with a long groan. A pull of your hips back while he pulled out, making you chase what he was trying to take from you until he was leaving your cunt woefully empty. Still spasming, too, as you came down from the climax. “Hold it in for me.”

Two fingers scooped and pushed into you. Repeatedly. 

“Fine,” you muttered. Had to. It was part of his ritual there. You didn’t have the will to break it, weirdly. “If you’re done….”

“Christ, yeah, just get rid of me. Fine.” His hand cracked hard against your ass, and your whole body lurched through your gasp. “Real fucking nice seeing you again.”

He pulled his clothes back on, and there came the sound of your door opening. Shutting. You deflated over the couch, reaching down, and doing what he forgot to do. What he'd done the last time he'd done this with you. Took him four days, morning and night, to get it out of his system, and every single time, he had his finger or a cruelly gentle toy on your clit while he kept grabbing what slipped out of you. Made you hold it in while you came again. Just for him.

Guess that had been something personal. 

Despite that oversensitivity, you still stuff two fingers into yourself and came one more time.

You cleaned yourself up afterwards, and made an effort to remove the night from your memories. Eddie wasn't back. Eddie wasn't local. Eddie wasn't there. The soreness the next day, the lingering effects of his cum–nope. Just extra needy. You'd just handle it yourself with your collection of toys, and all would be fine.

You’d moved on. Two years passed.

Now you sat next to him with his hand on your thigh, terrified of what such impersonal, ruined connections could lead to.

“Doesn’t change my words,” you found yourself saying.

“Sure as shit doesn’t change mine,” Eddie threw back at you. 

You rode in silence the rest of the way to wherever the hell he was taking you. It was hard to calm down. There wasn’t much point to it besides your own pride. Eddie could smell your fear. He could feel it. Every quietly hitched breath. The way your pulse pummeled past fixing. Every little shift in the seat. Every little tug on the cuffs. His hand just stayed right there, claiming you like he used to back when you still tolerated him like this. Before you cut him off and he used to touch you like he owned you.

Eventually, the car came to a stop. Silence came in, and Eddie's hand made a path higher–just a little higher–and old reactions snuck in. His fingers brushed the inside of your thigh like they would underneath tables and blankets. Something old flickered, but something old dampened. 

That combination with you had long since been torn to shreds. He just unbuckled your seat belt, hopped out of the car, and then your door was opening. A hand was on your upper arm, warm and strong. 

“Behave or this is gonna get real screwy,” he breathed.

You didn’t fight getting hauled out of the car, but you did jerk free from his hand for just a moment. Tried to regain some semblance of strength amongst their pack. Put distance between yourself and him. To do something other than just obeying his bullshit.

But the second you were out of his grasp, you were back in it. Thrown. Thrown with some force against the freezing door of the car, the window at your cheek, a hand at the back of your head.

It was Eddie. Recognized every inch of him slamming up against your back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N),” he growled, “what the fuck did I just say?”

You didn't answer him. Just ignored the press of one knee that seemed to accidentally go between yours. Nothing obscene. Nothing more than a place for it to go, but knowing where Eddie was headed shortly, the subconscious stuff would get stronger. He'd get needier. Maybe he had someone with him who'd take care of him, but if he didn't, you had a card to play.

“I’m going with you,” you breathed. “Don’t have to be so rough with me.”

A laugh snorted out of him, and he leaned in next to your ear. His hand pushed you just a little harder onto the window, but nothing painful. Yet.

“You really wanna talk about me being rough with you? C’mon. That sets me up too fucking easily. We both know this isn’t rough, and we both know how much you like it.”

Your stomach clenched. That was too easy of a setup.

“That was a long time ago,” you forced out.

"Sure as shit was." Eddie pulled you back from the car, taking an even stronger grip on your upper arm. He shoved you toward whatever awaited you. "And you say I’ve changed.”

A dry laugh escaped. Yeah, you sure did. He had no grounds there, and he knew that.

“Says the werewolf.”

"You think it changed me that much?" A door opened. You went up a step with Eddie's guidance. "Well, uh, I seem to recall you enjoying a few parts of my forced change.”

“You’ve killed people," you hurled back at him. 

Those around you snickered. Darkly. A little shiver slipped along your back like sharp claws. Beneath your boots, concrete became something like tile. The heels of your boots clacked on it rhythmically while slightly warm air pumped in through vents nearby. 

"Yeah, and you're so innocent? I don't think you're one to talk, baby," he mused. 

Anger struck deep in your belly. You didn't do what your family did. None of it. The only reason you got out was cause you distanced yourself and never took anything that could be used against them. Nobody would go against them. But still.

"Fuck you," you breathed.

His hand left your upper arm only to find the center of your shoulder blades. He shoved you–hard–and you stumbled forward. Forward into what seemed to be an open room. Forward until two more hands caught you, and someone with a soft, more feminine laugh caught you. Hands on your hips, waist, sliding all the way up over the sides of your breast, and then around to your wrists. Chest to chest, she hugged you, her nose nudging yours, making you instinctively try to pull away, but she just laughed again.

“Eds,” you breathed with obvious fear.

“Relax, Mercy’s just holding you.” His hands found yours. “One last warning to behave, (Y/N). Got it?”

You just nodded once.

“She’s pretty, Eds," Mercy mewled. She pressed her thumbs into your palms, holding them steady while the cuffs moved. Clicked. Opened. "No wonder you're so attached."

“Shut it, Mercy,” Eddie grumbled. 

The cuffs fell. For a moment, there was nobody holding you. But before you could even think of doing something foolish, you were turned. Hauled back against Mercy, your hands brought in front of you, and you were sandwiched between them. Sudden thick rope tied your wrists together and wrapped around in between them. 

“What? I’d also be disgruntled about having to get my ex-girlfriend, but I wouldn’t be so upset after seeing her all tied up pretty like this.” Mercy’s breath brushed your ear. Eddie lifted your wrists. Your heart was in a dangerous place when Mercy lifted you at your hips. “See? Won’t blame you if you’re feeling merciful tonight.”

Up at your wrists, Eddie brought them to something metal. Something cold. Wait. The tips of your toes brushed the floor while he hooked the rope in place. Fuck you, Eddie. He secured it with your wrists in hand and pulled down, digging the ropes into your skin a little more and making you squirm to get traction on the ground. 

“Jesus Christ, Mercy,” he whispered. Felt it against your cheek all gentle like he wasn’t being. Felt his breath, felt his hair, felt his fingers through your long sleeves while his hands skidded down from your wrists. Over your forearms, elbows, and upper arms. Almost your breasts. With the low cut of the dress, you swore you felt his next breath against your cleavage, but his hands were on your waist in the next second. “Gonna make the call, so shut up. You too, (Y/N).”

You just nodded and hoped he was looking.

One hand stayed on your waist. There was shuffling. There were light…growls and hums. And you could feel them. All the eyes on you. All the attention skimming over you. Your dress wasn’t long, and with your arms hoisted, it was just beneath your bottom. Any squirming would make it ride up. For pride’s sake, you stayed as still as possible.

Quietly, you heard a phone ring. And ring.

And ring.

Then nothing.

“Wow, ignoring your calls now,” a masculine voice said from somewhere behind you.

“Nah, that’s what I want, Marric.” Eddie leaned in again and reached down. Fingers skated over your thighs until he got to your boots just under your knees. Damn him. He remembered. Not that it was anything well hidden, but your lack of purse solidified it. He plucked your phone out of your boot. He tapped at the screen and laughed. Damn it. "Still haven't changed the code? Wow, (Y/N)."

At least it wasn’t his name. It’d been that for a split second, but you quickly changed it.

Eager to not find out if Eddie was bluffing about anything, you just stayed quiet. Whoever he was calling, you weren’t sure they’d pick up. You hadn’t talked to your family in years. So you listened to the phone ring. And ring. And ring.

Then your uncle’s voice cut in.

“(Y/N), what the fuck–?”

"Hey, Bill," Eddie sang into the phone. His hand slid up over your waist, then skated back down. Idly playing with your dress, dragging it up a little more bit by bit. Then brought his hand higher again, then lower. Tracing the curve of your waist like you were a toy to keep him occupied. "You know, I was just out enjoying the full moon when I ran into a really surprising face."

“Eddie, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at here?” your uncle shot through the phone.

“Think I’m playing at what I’m owed, and you've been skimping out on me. On my pack.” His hand went higher again, and he took another step forward. Body to body, his hand up at your cheek, he traced your mouth with his thumb. “You know what I want. Drop it off in our usual fucking place. Or I’m gonna have to start doing more than just saying hi to (Y/N) here. Isn’t that right, baby? Say hi for me.”

“Hi, Bill,” you pushed out loud enough for the phone to capture it. 

"She's not part of this, you freak." Well, that was at least a little reassuring that someone in your family still had some semblance of care. Might've felt good about it under any other circumstance. "You should've picked someone else. You're gonna hurt her? Bullshit, Munson. She had you on your fucking knees–”

When his hand left your cheek, your stomach tightened. It was coming. It was coming, and it came in with a loud crack against your cheek. The sound echoed in heavy silence erupting across the room. Tears stung, and you moved with it the second his palm struck you, eliminating some of the pain. 

Before you could even think, there was his palm again, cupping the stinging cheek, his thumb...his thumb on your parted lips. Parted? Fuck. You probably yelped, and you hadn't even heard it.

He rubbed your cheek with a tenderness that wasn't fair. He didn't get to do that and feel remorseful.

“(Y/N) and I haven’t exactly been on good terms for a few years, Bill. Get me the payment we're owed for our services, and we'll be square. It's real fucking simple. If I gotta hurt her, I will." 

His thumb was back at your lips again. Back and curling in just a little. A familiar move that had your jaw unlocking for just a second. Wait. But he already had your mouth open and his thumb pressed inside. You could’ve bitten down, but he wasn’t letting you close your mouth. 

"Bullshit. You could've hit anyone. It's been years since I've talked to her, let alone seen her. You want to play this game, kid, play it right."

Slowly, Eddie pulled his thumb out. It dragged wet all the way down to your chin, where he held you by it for a moment. Turning you in the direction you'd moved with the slap. And then his hand latched onto your throat. 

The quiet shutter of a picture being taken made you squirm. 

“Check your texts, Bill,” Eddie said.

The silence was telling.

Eddie released your throat, and air came rushing in. Fucking…. You gasped. A little desperately, but you gasped. Getting in new breaths before he could cut anymore off. But his hand was back on your waist. He squeezed it softly.

“You really want to do this, Munson?” Uncle Bill said. 

“Just want what we’re owed, man. It’s really easy. Just give us the money, and–”

"Nah. I don't think you'll do it. One hit? Fine. You two used to roughhouse all the damn time. You should've picked someone else. We're not playing this game. I'm with 'em. My brother and my wife. We're not playing. When you've done something worthy of that amount of money, maybe. But fuck that. You tried. Gold star for effort."

There was a hint of dry, bored laughter in your uncle's voice.

The line cut halfway through it.

Your heart lurched. That…that was how you figured it’d go. Little care for what happened to you. Little trust that Eddie would hurt you. All leading to Eddie leaning back and tucking your phone away somewhere on himself.

His hand brushed your stinging cheek again, and you flinched hard. But he didn't hit you again. Just grazed his palm over it. Would've thought it was apologetic if he had much of a conscience left. 

“Uh-oh,” Mercy murmured. 

“Eds,” you breathed, panicking. Shivering. Shivering and trying to find a good footing where he was suddenly not touching you anymore. Suddenly not in front of you anymore. “Eddie, please.”

You didn't plead more than that. You didn't even know if you were still in the same room as him. He could've left, and you'd just not heard it. No door opened or shut, though. But that didn't mean he was still there. Didn't matter anyway–he'd smell your fear. 

“What should we do now?” asked what you were fairly certain was Marric. 

“We call their bluff, obviously,” came from Mercy.

Hurt you. You pulled on the ropes a little, but stopped. It only pushed your dress up higher and hurt your toes trying to find the right position. An ache already started in your arms and slithered down your neck and spine. Your ankles threatened to roll, but you managed. Attempted to.

“Want me to do it, Eddie?” Mercy was closer. Hands came to your hips and bunched up the fabric a little. “There’s no harm in letting someone else do what needs to be done.”

"Touch her, and you lose your throat, Mercy," Eddie snarled.

Mercy’s hands didn’t leave you, but they went nowhere else. She leaned up against you, using you like a pillar, and the strain went through your arms and your fingers. 

"Fine, fine," she hummed, then her hands left your hips and went higher. Short nails caught on the thick material just above your underarms, and she held there. "What would you like to do then?”

"The ledger," was Eddie's immediate answer. Footsteps shifted across the floor nearby. Just in front of you. You tried to figure out exactly where, but one of Mercy's hands took you by your chin and jerked you, what you imagined was, directly forward. "If we get the ledger, we have fucking everything to hold over their heads."

“Ohhh, extortion is fun,” Mercy sang. 

Eddie was an idiot. He was strong on his own, with a pack even stronger, but going after your family was a death sentence. Blood was going to be shed no matter who won. 

“Give me something to go on, (Y/N),” he whispered. His fingers came back to you then. A brush over your cheek once more, and you couldn’t reel back. Couldn’t move under Mercy’s grasp. “Where is it?”

Oh. Ha. Haha. You shook. Really, you didn’t mean to, but–holy fuck, Eddie. Did he really think…? Ha.

"Eddie, I haven't talked to my family in three years, and that was in passing. Haven't even seen them for longer. You think I know where that goddamn ledger is?"

Another brush of his thumb came to your lips. Every time you were together. Before he kissed you, before you took him in your mouth, and before and while he fucked you. Wanted to see you. Wanted to hear you. You didn’t move with him that time, though. You kept your mouth pressed into a finer line.

“You’ve gotta have some idea,” he said. “Give me something.”

Spite. It was spite. Yeah, you did. You knew there was a cycle. It went from your house to your uncle's every once in a while for checking and safekeeping. But you never knew when, and you never knew where it went when it was there. You only ever saw that leatherbound notebook when your dad was working on it, told you it was business, and you left before you could risk getting dragged into it.

You wanted to call his bluff, too. 

“Yeah, you want something?” you spat. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed back. 

His hair brushed your cheek, and there was his hand again. Back on your throat. Mercy pulled your chin back, keeping you sandwiched between them as Eddie choked you. His grasp was still not at full strength, but it was tighter than before. With how Mercy held you, too, it brought him right up to your ear. You kicked a little, trying to do something, but your lungs throbbed and your heartbeat was in your head. 

"I know everything that makes you tick." His mouth brushed against the shell of your ear. "Tell me what you know and we'll be fucking fine, (Y/N). Christ, don't fucking make me…." His next breath was a growl. His hand twitched on your throat, and you knew it. Through the haze of fear, he was getting closer. He had to know it was there, and he was still screwing around with this now? “Shit.”

His hand loosened on your throat. Finger by finger, you were able to get more and more air in. Gasping, squirming, feeling yourself come back down to earth. And Eddie’s hand was lower. Not quiet on your breasts, but just on your cleavage. Right where the dress cut away and the skin was bared.

He was nodding. Felt it on your neck with his hair moving in the same motion over and over. 

“Fine,” he stated. “Plan C then.”

His hand went lower, where his other hand joined it at your collar. Woah, wait– But he hooked a claw through the material, feeling the end graze your chest without hurting, and the tear cut through the silence. All the way through the thick sweater material, just like that, he ripped your dress. His knuckles brushed your breasts, stomach, barely over your black underwear. Then up under Mercy's fingers, pulling away at your sleeves.

All the way until the dress just…fell away. Shredded.

The room was cold then.

One of Eddie’s hands was a flat, burning touch against your lower back.

“Mercy, put some blood on it. Wait a few hours, then mail it over.” His fingers traced over the bared skin in a slow, threatening line down to the top of your tights. “Marris, get me one of your shirts or something and tell Enya to watch the cameras.”

“Sure.”

“Course, Eds,” Mercy mused.

There was heavy breathing in front of you that you couldn’t quite tell who it belonged to. Yourself? Eddie? Maybe both. But steps shuffled out of the room, and a door opened and shut. Twice. In the silence, your heart wasn’t keeping to it. It filled you from head to toe, a tension in your throat making it hard to find any words, but you didn’t want to speak much anyway.

Didn’t matter. Eddie did for you.

Did so while his other hand brought a curled finger up to the blindfold.

“Could’ve been your blood I asked to put on it,” he said. 

The blindfold went down, and the light hurt. Not a lot of light. But there was some. Fuck. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the moderately-sized room. Empty around you except some chairs, a table, and very clearly lots of spaces to do exactly what he was already doing to you. Hooks from the ceiling, rings on the walls all over the place. Some on the floor. A lot on the floor. 

An old mattress was just a little ways behind Eddie, with a blanket and a pillow dropped over it. 

Then there was him. Looking at you with eyes that were just brown. Rich and full, just like you knew them when you were younger. Before all of this. And they were still brown when he cupped your cheek again, and they had regret. Bitter regret, but regret. 

“I’m aware,” you answered. “It should be. If they test it.”

Eddie shrugged. "Been three years. They probably won't even think it's your dress." He moved so that he was entirely in front of you. "Just tell me what I wanna know, (Y/N). C'mon. Christ. This doesn't have to be a thing."

“You hit me,” you said with a soft, dry laugh. “Choked me. Stripped me. Eds, I’m hanging from your fucking ceiling.”

"Nothing new we haven't done before." The hold on your hips was dangerous. Had it seared into you with the number of times he clung to you while fucking you into every surface he would while he was in heat. 

His eyes were that red with yellow flecks in them then. His eyes that fell over the curve of your nose down to your mouth. Down over where your bra pushed your breasts up and together, and where your black tights barely kept a sheer shield between him and your underwear.

“You think that makes it any better?” you whispered. 

“You’ve already given up on me, (Y/N),” he answered, thumbs running circles over your hips. “I’m clearly a monster. What do I have left to prove to you?”

No answer. You didn't have one when he came up to you like that. Curving against you, his mouth brushing against your jaw. Every breath hit your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. His hold tensed, and he clung to you as he used to. Desperately. Needy and almost pathetically.

It gave you the one advantage you had.

“This,” you breathed. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” His hands twitched. “But you’ve still got a shred of something in you, Eds. Cause here I am tied up for you, a perfect little gift, and you’re holding yourself back.”

“You know my fucking line,” he barked back.

Yeah, you did. And you had to make him face it.

"Let me go." You tilted your head and found him. Soft hair, soft cheek, before it became harsh stubble. Soft him. “Let me go, and I’ll help you with that, Eds. I know how much it hurts for you to hold it.” You did. You’d caught him in agony a few too many times. In tears. “Let me take care of you.”

He scoffed. But his body betrayed him. He was hard against your thigh. Twitching while his hips pressed closer. His claws dug through your tights, ripping holes into them in his closing fists. And he just laughed. Shook his head and just…laughed.

"Don't whore yourself out like that. You're better than that, (Y/N)." He shoved you back, and you swayed. Fuck. The pain in your wrists shot down, and you quite literally squirmed, doing everything you could to get your toes to stop the motion. When you came to a halt, Eddie was stalking out of the room. "But you just reminded me of ways I don't mind using to get what I need out of you."

“Eddie,” you cracked out.

"The ledger." He threw the door open. "When I come back, tell me where it is or I'll pry it out of you."

Yeah? Yeah, fuck him. 

“You can fucking try,” you shouted.

The door slammed shut, and you were alone. For a while, you were just in there alone. Really alone. Oh, shit, you were alone. But you had no extra strength to just break the rope at your wrists. Pushing up on the highest of your toes, there was no extra height to get the rope off the hook. And with how your wrists were bound, there was nothing to grab onto. Couldn’t lift yourself up. Couldn’t swing off.

All you earned was a rope burn and a severe ache in your wrist, arms, and shoulders. Oh, and no success at all. You just looked around the room for anything helpful, but it was nothing. Utterly nothing. Just rings and hooks and that mattress. Oh, and a toilet and a shower, partially sectioned off in the back with a black curtain. 

So they brought people there a lot? Or it was a different room for them that asked a lot of questions about Eddie and his pack. Asked a lot of questions about Eddie you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. But you snagged on one part while hanging there.

“No wonder you’re so attached.”

Ex-girlfriend.

You’d never really used labels, and maybe that was just Mercy’s choice in the moment, but it…. If Eddie had called you that? He hadn’t corrected her. So it was confusing. After his change, Eddie was a different man. Not so much personality-wise. He still liked mostly the same stuff, still was your best friend, your first kiss. But he got more rabid. Feral. That was the better term.

He was absolutely feral.

First time you recalled it, you were twenty-something, right after the accident that caused it, and you were at this party you’d dragged him to. He’d gotten to sell whatever he had in that shitty black lunchbox, so it wasn’t a totally awful night for him. Until he caught Bobby D. trying to kiss you when you’d already told him you weren’t interested.

In a blink, there was just red. The red in his eyes he’d told you not to worry about. The red from Bobby’s nose where Eddie broke it under his knuckles. The red on Eddie’s shirt when one of Bobby’s friends threw a bottle at Eddie’s head and it hit the wall, shattering, a shard catching Eddie’s eyebrow.

He hauled you out of there before a full fight could break out.

Hauled you into his van, ripping it down the road while you leaned over and made sure the glass was out of his eyebrow and not in his eye. While you tried to ask him what the hell happened. While he jerked his van off the road, into a dirt turnoff, and reached over for you with both hands. Cupping your cheek, his mouth crashed to yours. Fierce, like he was claiming you, he kissed you. Kissed you back against that crappy front seat and pulled you toward him when your breath hitched.

When you hadn’t pushed him away, cause how the hell could you? The way he kissed you was hypnotic. That kind of claiming that had you burning up from the inside out with more than just adrenaline.

“Eds,” you’d tried to mutter.

“Don’t worry about it,” was all he said before you both climbed in the back.

You had rug burn on your knees for the next few days, and you couldn't look Eddie in the eye much. He'd fucked you for the first time–not your first time, just yours together–in the back of his van, making you scream his name no other had ever had you do. His mouth on your clit, lapping up every drop you gave him until you were whining. 

Your friendship was a little different after that. Never quite together, but never not. 

Well, until he started getting in with the wrong people. Your family. Got into more fights. Got into the exact life you were trying to leave behind. There was no changing what he wasn’t interested in changing. 

So there you hung, watching that door, with no clock to go by. But time passed. A lot of time. Enough that your eyelids got heavy from the ache in your arms, and you started to go limp before that hurt too much, but then trying to use your muscles just made it worse.

When that door swung open, you were staring longingly at the dirty mattress. Eddie strolled it with a box in hand, looking a little less feral than he’d been earlier, but still on edge.

You just sighed when he dropped it next to the mattress and faced you.

“Can you at least chain me to the floor?” you asked softly. “This hurts.”

“The ledger.”

God. You pressed your head back, trying to get a new grip with your hands near the hook or even on the ropes, but it hurt. Really, you tried not to, but you winced. 

“Even if I told you, my information is three years out of date.”

You shook your head. Eddie was unimpressed.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He stalked toward you slowly. You were an already caught prey, and yet still he stalked. “Tell me and I’ll take you down and give you something modest to wear.”

"You humiliate and torture me so easily, and yet you hold it over my head that I called you a monster." 

One time. You’d called him that one time.

When he came to your apartment once you’d moved out of your parents. Covered in blood that clearly wasn’t his. When apparently he’d changed during a full moon episode and came to you looking to fuck after clearly killing someone or something. He never specified which it was.

You’d told him no, and he backed off, but he looked betrayed, lost in some feral, lust-addled adrenaline. When he’d asked why, you told him you wouldn’t fuck such a monster. It encompassed more than that, though. You both knew it. 

Especially when he’d been changed against his will.

That part hadn’t been intended, but it was there.

He’d never forgotten it.

His expression twisted into slight offense and amusement all in one. “I fucked you in a dressing room while your friends were on either side in the other ones. And you call this humiliating? This is business. You know it is.” Eddie gave you a tight smile and shrugged. “But if you want me to commit to that, fine. I’ll be the monster you think I am.”

His silver rings caught the light before his fingers dug into your cheeks. Slight pain pulsed through your arms when he brought you to him, and more resonated in your cheeks. At the sharp pinch of his slightly extended claw-like nails, your mouth parted just enough. Too late, you knew what he was doing. He loved doing this when he was near his heat. He loved fucking with you.

His mouth pressed to yours roughly. For a second, in a daze, there was just the kiss. The familiar, almost-forgotten sensation of his mouth. How he kissed you. How soft and plump his lips were. How they parted when yours did. You already knew how he liked to taste you, and knew where his tongue was going to go right before it curled into your mouth. Before it brushed against yours, and Eddie locked you against him.

Sloppy. The kiss was sloppy and wet and bad. Really bad. Heat already danced in your belly. A tickle between your legs and an itch inside of you. You whined without meaning to, and Eddie’s teeth caught your lip. Sharp and slow, he leaned back. Goddamn it. Your eyes fluttered. Your toes wanted to curl.

He hooked his thumb around your chin, pressed it into your mouth, and kept it wide open while he spat into it. He closed it and covered your mouth with his hand. Pinched your nose and cut off air. You squirmed, shaking your head, knowing this was the last blow. The final nail.

“Swallow,” he whispered. “And I’ll let you breathe, baby. Swallow for me.”

Pressure filled where oxygen wasn’t. You tried to hold out. Tried hard. But he’d already kissed you. Already fucking cursed you, marked you, infected you. However it wanted to be described. It was a lost battle you fought pointlessly.

You swallowed.

Eddie smiled and released your nose, but still covered your mouth. You glared unforgiving daggers while you caught your breath.

“It’s just playing fair.” His hand moved down, parting your mouth with it, and you felt it. The draw. The need. The slight clenching already starting in your cunt. It worked so quickly. But you were also two years without it. It was…so fucking strong. Jesus Christ. You just felt yourself melt. Drip. Ache. Ache in ways beyond your upper body. “You try to screw with me, I get to screw with you right back.”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, and it was just like old times. Resist. Fuck. You missed him, though. Even without his stupid kiss and spit, you missed him. You’d missed him on the date. You’d missed him after. There was just some goddamn link between you that you couldn’t shake. 

If he’d just shown up and talked to you, fine. You could’ve talked. Maybe you would’ve helped him. But he had to go and do it the hard way. The other kind of hard way.

“At least yours fades after a few hours,” Eddie mused against your jaw. “Mine lasts fucking days. And nobody is you. It’s not the same when it’s not with you.”

He pushed his fingers in deeper and, instinctively, you sucked. Brushed your tongue against them while holding his gradually glowing gaze. Don’t give in that easily. Damn it, fight. You whipped your head back, his fingers left wet, and turned away. Looking anywhere else. Looking at the box. The box that had things you couldn’t see in it. The box that–

Wet and dry fingers dug into your sides. Right in that wrong spot. Oh, that asshole. You screamed, squirming and kicking as Eddie dug his fingers into your sides. Tears sprung. No, no, no. You kicked at nothing. Eddie hugged you from behind, pressing one knee up and taking just a little bit of your weight off of your wrists, but it went right at your cunt.

Right as he kept tickling you and making you squirm.

"The ledger, (Y/N)." He used to get so much bullshit out of you like this. Before and after his transformation. He wanted to know the answer to any question that you refused to give? On top of you, tickling you until you gave up the answer or said you were about to pee yourself. Only then he'd stop. "Just tell me.”

You didn't mean to rock your hips, but it was as involuntary as the tickling. You shook your head frantically, pulling on the ropes, leaving harsh marks on your wrists, and nearly sobbed. The ache between your legs settled firmly into your clit. Blood rushed, and your vision blurred a little. Holy fuck. It’d been…so, so long.

“Eddie, please.” Your eyes stayed shut. Tears started to spring. And his hands went up. No, no. "Eddie, Eddie, please. Please. Fuck. Please.”

His fingers went to your underarms, and you were back in it again. Except it wasn’t just the torment of that. Every thrash you gave to get away was a different agony. Pain ricocheted, and you couldn't do it. You shook your head, hanging it, sputtering through laughter.

“It hurts, Eds, my arms, please.”

The last word cracked out of you a little pathetically. Might’ve felt a certain way about it if the circumstances were different. But there was still anger and betrayal in your belly.

It was there even when his hands stilled.

It was there when one arm wrapped around your waist and hoisted you up.

It was…a little dampened when your feet dragged on the ground, and you collapsed onto the mattress with Eddie’s hands making you flinch. But they only touched your shoulders…. Massaging.

They massaged.

“What the fuck does it get you?” He rolled you onto your back and lifted your arms up, straddling you. A lock was right there. Above your head. Above the mattress. It still hurt to have your arms in that position, but far less without your weight on them. He locked them into place, skimming his fingers down along your arms and bypassing your underarms. “You left the family. They’re screwing me over. Christ, (Y/N), who are you standing with right now with this bullshit?”

Standing with? You snorted out a laugh. Having him on top of you again was…so nice. You chewed your lip and felt it deeper. That ache. It was a cruel fucking move to pull it out on you. It wouldn’t work if you didn’t want it to, which was even worse. If you really hated him, really wanted to turn away from him, you’d feel nothing.

But you felt something.

Felt yourself writhe beneath Eddie, needing him like you hadn't needed someone in the last two goddamn years.

"Could've just come and talked to me, you know. Asked me for help." You curled a smile up at him. "But no, you had to go and do all of this. So I stand with spite cause my ex-boyfriend decided it would be easier to torture me than sit down and face me.”

“You left me,” Eddie breathed. “You called it off. You walked away. Called me a fucking monster over something I’ve had no choice in.” He reached down to his jeans and pulled out a pocket knife. The blade flicked into view as a dark, dull black. “Why would I think you’d ever want to help me?”

He reached for the box and nudged the lid open. More rope came into view. Thick, but softer rope. Rope that the sharp blade sliced through like butter.

“You could’ve asked.”

“And have you run back to your family cause you’d rather spite me that much?" Closing his knife, he reached back and got one ankle. Couldn't fight him. Wanted to try, but the second he touched your boot, you went pliable. It was hard to explain why when there wasn't even skin-to-skin contact. But he pulled your boot and sock off, leaving your tights as they were. "Or maybe you did help me, but then your family finds out and they send someone to do this to you anyway, who'll actually fucking hurt you. This was my only option.”

“Kidnapping me, treating me like this, to protect me?” you threw back with a dark laugh. “The Eddie I knew would’ve never.”

"The Eddie you knew is right here, baby." He tied your ankle to your thigh and attached a bit of rope under your knee and brought it to a hook on the floor. He wrestled with your other leg before doing the same. Know kneeling in front of you, legs pinned back and spread. He nodded down at you, his eyes glowing again. "I got your favorite toy in that box. Tell me what I wanna know and I'll make you feel better. Just…just gotta tell me."

Your favorite…? You eyed the box in slightly subconscious betrayal. No. But being tied like that was doing exactly what Eddie wanted. You wanted. You needed. You wanted to kill him. You also just wanted him.

You pushed your head back into the mattress, shaking it. Fighting it. If it was the toy you thought it was, he'd just need to hold that thin vibrating end right to your clit without even undressing you, and you'd come apart with fervor.

He’d fucking loved abusing your clit with it until you were squirting around his fingers begging for a reprieve.

The things you did with him….

Had to counter. Had to go against. He was winning. He was in your head. That stupid kiss had you curling your toes for nothing. 

Counter. He was a jealous werewolf. He’d been a jealous human, but it’d only gotten worse after the transformation.

You found a smile. Jealous.

“He offered to drive me home,” you murmured. “My date. Alan. Sweet guy. So sweet. I was trying to play it right, you know? After so much went off the rails with you, I was trying.” You chewed your bottom lip for a second and just sighed. “But I should’ve gone with him. I could be with him right now.”

“You think I wouldn’t have pulled you away from him?” Eddie asked very, very quietly. “I was glad you didn’t put up a fight, but if I’d had to take you from him? You think it would’ve been that smooth?” 

“Careful, Eds, that feral part of you is talking.” You writhed a little. Under his stare, under his hands–shit–sliding down the inside of your thighs. 

“I know.” He nodded. “You know who doesn’t mind tending to this part of me?”

Something flickered in your stomach. His hands didn’t go further than your thighs, despite the ache in your cunt. He just squeezed and ran his hands up and down in the same line. Just rubbed and rubbed and rubbed the wrong spot.

The flicker darkened when a door to your left opened, and in came Mercy and Marric. Both were built oppositely. Marric was tall and broad with tan skin, short brown hair, dressed in an open red plaid shirt with a white one underneath, and some blue jeans tight on his thighs. Mercy was shorter, curvier, with long black hair, ashen white skin, purple eyes, and a smile.... Your stomach dropped when she beamed. 

Fangs. 

She was a vampire.

“There she is,” Eddie mused. 

Mercy, dressed in a short, poofy black dress, came to a halt when she saw you. Her smile remained, and there was a sudden pep in her step. That drop in your stomach because of a hole. Because when you looked at Eddie, there was a sting in your chest.

Mercy came over and ran her hands over Eddie’s shoulders. All the way until she was leaning on him, head against his, fangs bared, and fists taking hold of his shirt.

“Are we playing now?” she asked. “Marric, come join–”

“No,” Eddie said. “No, not playing.”

Mercy hummed, and your fingers twitched. So she and Eddie…? Eddie and both her and Marric if she was calling him over? You pushed your head back and nodded.

“Good to see I wouldn’t have been enough for you if we’d made it work anyway.” You nodded. Eddie’s smile…tipped. It turned into a frown. “That could’ve saved a lot of heartache.”

Wrong word. Too sincere of a word. Fuck. You would've rather told him about the ledger. Not...that. Not that you actually fucking cared. Letting him go was supposed to have just been that. A moment in history that was done with. Just like you with your family. But no. No, you might've been the one to shun Eddie, but it fucking hurt. Felt like you had to with the sinking direction it was all going in. And it…it was like losing a part of yourself. He was in your life since before you could remember, and then he was different, and he was gone.

And it’d hurt.

That hurt. Telling him. Letting it slip out like that. That…that hurt.

“Oh, Eddie,” Mercy murmured mockingly.

“They alternate who takes the ledger,” you said, shutting your eyes. You weren’t doing this. You weren’t dealing with this. “I would be at my dad’s and see him with it, then a week or so later, I’d be at Uncle Bill’s and he’d have it. I don’t know when they switched or why they switched or where they kept it, but it was a brown leatherbound notebook back then. The size of…of your forearm. It was big and thick with…with a red ribbon to mark the page. I never screwed with it. Eddie, you know I never did. I never wanted even a peek into that goddamn life.” You shuddered out a breath that became a sigh. “That’s all I know.”

At the end of your shaky words, there was just…silence. Mediocre silence. No clock to hear ticking. No chains to rustle while you shifted. Nothing but your collective breathing and the sound of your pulse. Your pulse that surely all three of them could hear, presuming Marric was also a vampire or a werewolf. 

“Her heart’s beating so hard, I can’t tell if she’s lying,” Mercy murmured.

“She’s not.” Eddie’s hands brushed just above both ankles. “She’s not lying.”

“So let me go. I told you what you wanted to know. Let me go, Eddie. You got it. I can’t do anything else for you.” You pulled on the ropes a little. All of them, fighting that other part of you that wanted to only be there. 

"Can't," he breathed. Almost…almost regretfully, but fuck that. Fuck any of that. You felt the betrayal hit, and you stared up at him in open despair. "Not until we get our hands on it. I'm not running the risk that my bullshit will get you hurt."

Oh. You knew that look. It stung deep. Familiar. He'd had the same look after one of his buddies–Gareth–took a black eye and a bruised jaw from a guy looking for Eddie. You tried to tell him to just let the cops handle it. A staunch move you took in an effort to avoid being like your family. But Eddie couldn't. He gave you that look when he told you he couldn’t.

He put the guy in the hospital with a broken nose and a broken arm, but he’d walked away with his own wounds, coming back to your place freshly patched up pretty shitty by someone not a doctor. He’d found you in the shower, still partially bloody, just exhausted. He dropped against you, arms around you, nuzzling the back of your head with soft kisses before just standing with you. Both of you letting the water run over you.

“Eddie, if you keep me here like a prisoner–” you started, voice cracking and round with tears. 

He shook his head. “Not like that.” He tilted his head back. “Mercy. Marric. Go make a room up. With a camera.”

“I can’t stay and watch?” Mercy whispered, eyeing you with glowing eyes. “I wanna see what the fun’s all about.”

“Go and don’t bother us,” was all Eddie said, and Mercy just hummed and swayed off with Marric. Once again, leaving the room in silence. Painful, awkward silence– “You…Ha. You’re a righteous asshole, you know that. Talking about heartache when you told me to leave.”

You didn't say anything. Just stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather your thoughts; your combating needs. Trying to find something that wasn't begging for relief or just crying. The truth was what came forward. 

“We wouldn’t have worked,” you murmured. “This isn’t the life I want. You know that. Eddie, come on. We were heading for the shallow end for both of us to get out and go our separate ways. It was obvious.”

“Yeah, and you couldn’t have just told me that?” His hands ran along your thighs again. Slowly.

God. You laughed. It sounded like a sob. It felt like one. 

“I didn’t think I needed to when you started doing gigs for my family and came home covered in fucking blood. You helped me move out of their house, Eds. For fuck’s sake, I thought of all things I wouldn’t have to explain, it’d be that.” You shook your head again and just…just tried to find something to hold onto. To cling to. To have. But nothing was steadying. There was just his hands rubbing your thighs, a red finding his cheeks, nose, and eyes, and that shitty mattress underneath you. “You were my best friend. A piece of me that I haven’t been able to get back. And…and we did things together that I will never have with anyone else. I didn’t just flippantly decide you meant nothing to me. How heartless do you think I am, Eddie?”

It'd fucking destroyed you. Yeah, you pushed through it, but there were so many nights you'd gone to be in agony. You two used to go trick or treating together with your other friends, dress up together, make costumes together. Walk through the shitty pumpkin patch back home and get chased out when Eddie decided he wanted to stomp on a rotten ones out for sale. Then you'd carve the ones you'd drive over to the next town to get while getting drunk and watching horror movies.

He’d been your first kiss, in his van, when you were still in high school. It was raining. You’d just run out from grabbing pizza at the old corner place by his uncle’s trailer. And you looked at him all soaking wet, laughing, cursing, fumbling with his keys while the winter air assaulted you. But you’d felt so warm just being with him, just looking at him, just….

You reached over, took a fistful of his hair, and kissed him.

He dropped his keys to cup your cheeks and kiss you back.

“Thanks,” you’d whispered. “Warmed me up.”

All he'd done was nod. After that, for about two months, the kiss wasn't mentioned. It was just a secret moment that, later, you joked about a little. Then there was underlying tension, you went off to college in the town you now lived in, and Eddie had his accident. A night out camping with friends when he went off to piss for a little too long and a little too deep in the woods.

Gareth and Jeff found him bleeding, barely alive, with claw marks on his ribs and a bite mark on his shoulder.

Then…everything was different.

Tension gave way on your ankles. Thighs. Knees. The rope fell onto the mattress. Eddie guided your feet down, then your legs, until he was kneeling between them again. 

"I can't let you leave." Eddie crawled over you until he was at your wrists. Brushes of his fingers hit your hands and wrists, and then there was relief. Sincere relief. The ropes gave way, and warm hands rubbed at your wrists. "If they know you're not here, they'll come after you. And, uh, right now, it'll benefit me if they think you're here."

He'd done it before. The press of his thumbs into the print of rope left on your wrists. Definitely wasn't the first time he'd had you bound tight like that, but never for so long and never with your body weight hanging onto it. Still, he rubbed as he used to. Like it was second nature.

“I have a job,” you breathed.

“I just need a week. Call and say you have a family emergency for some shit.” 

“Jesus, Eds,” you sighed. He was serious. He really wanted you to say screw it and play pretend–or really real–prisoner with him and his pack. His pack with a vampire he fucked when he was in the very heat he was currently in.

You’d be around for it.

You’d hear it. You’d know.

You started to sit up, and then he was at your back, helping. He sat behind you, his side propping you up. His side…. His hair tickled your shoulder and your neck. Cheek and jaw. His nose…. Two fingers found your chin, and you were looking at him then. Right into those goddamn full brown eyes.

"I want what I'm owed. It's fucking fair, (Y/N), and I don't want you caught up in it more than I've already fucked it up. M'kay? I was fine doing this when I thought you wanted me dead, but…." He tilted his head and gave you a rather wild look. "Seven days. Give me seven fucking days, alright? I'll either get the ledger or I'll get 'em to really buy that I've got you here." He lolled his head onto your shoulder. "And I'll make it up to you. Please."

He hadn’t forgotten how to give you that pleading look. Frustratingly. When you were already so worn and affected by the kiss, you knew in your heart of hearts you weren’t going to say no. Seven days to screw over your family was too good of a deal to pass up, especially when it made you out to be innocent in it. Did you want to be involved in the mess at all? No. And Eddie would hear about it when this was over. He’d hear about every goddamn bit of it from start to finish.

Seven days in their den. House. Whatever the hell they’d taken you. 

What other choice did you really have? Getting whisked away by your family was going to be worse than this. They’d do much of the same for a worse outcome. 

“You’re buying me a new dress,” you murmured.

"I'll getcha more than just the one." Eddie flicked his eyes over you so, so slowly. From your eyes down your nose, and right where it settled on your mouth. Lingering; he…lingered. "There's gotta be a camera in your room so you don't go running out on us. Don't think I forgot how good you were at it when we were teenagers."

“Who’s gonna be watching it?”

“Everyone’ll have access to the feeds. We all share it.” 

You nodded. It wasn't an issue he'd compromise on. "Fine. Can I go to the room now? I…." Your gaze snagged on his mouth. The slight part. The slight swelling from the kiss. Your hands twitched in eagerness to reach for him, but you couldn't. You wanted to but couldn't. "I need some space right now after this, Eds. After…." You touched your mouth.

His expression hardened a little, but he nodded. “Sure, yeah. Right. Jesus Christ, here. Here.”

He threw the lid off the top of the box, and there was a lot to see. A lot. A large white shirt that clearly was Marric’s. You pulled it on the second Eddie gave it to you, fighting the ache in your arms. Then there was your favorite toy with that round end perfect to settle on and over your clit. It’d pinpoint and torture it perfectly, and, for extra fun, you could slide it inside of you and, at the right angle, press it against your g-spot, and you'd see stars. Eddie knew exactly how to use it.

But then…. Then there were nipple clamps. He’d brought fucking nipple clamps with him? And…and a plug with a familiar red heart on the end. Then a paddle that said mine in metal in round metal studs across the center. And some more vibrators, dildos, padded cuffs. Thick rope. A few unopened boxes with other sex toys you couldn’t see in time before he shut the box. But you knew them.

Red touched Eddie’s cheeks as he cleared his throat, righting the lid on the box.

All of that was yours. Together. Every single one.

“Eddie,” you said slowly. A pit in your stomach came back hard. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. All of that was yours, but he had it here. With Mercy. “You keep all that so readily available you just had it on hand for this?”

The bite in your tone was not subtle.

He stopped mid-rise, hands on his knees, a frown dead center on his face. He blinked once.

"I keep these in my closet with all of your other shit, (Y/N)." His brows furrowed harder until that crease between them looked painful. "I just grabbed the box so I wasn't walking back in with a fucking sex toy making you think I was going to do something heinous to you. It was supposed to be the reward, not the torture."

Yeah, being near him, being hyped up on adrenaline, jealousy, and the effects of his kiss all together was starting to make you want to pull him onto the mattress. Just a few minutes. His heat was about to really start, and you…. You two….

He wasn't yours. He hadn't been yours for years. But it still caught within you like a fish in a net.

“You kept all of those just cause then?”

Eddie blinked at you again. But it clicked. A moment later, he was on his feet and giving you his hands. You took them. With an easy pull, you were on your feet, swaying. The room did a little topsy-turvy move, and then you were in his arms, resting against his chest like you used to when you’d gotten a little too drunk to stand.

“Christ. The only person these have touched is you,” he mused. “Think we, uh, really need to clear some stuff up after you get some rest. I’ll show you around the place.”

The place.

“Okay.”

The place. The place was a multilevel, worn-down mansion that Eddie would've hated as a teenager. Granted, this wasn't addled with privilege or class like some of the others in your hometown here. This place had peeling wallpaper, posters of different metal bands, horror movies, and general darker arts plastered all over the windows and free spaces on the walls. The stairs were fixed with random, mismatched pieces of wood. The railing had the stain mostly sanded down and was rough to the touch.

Light fixtures were broken. The bathroom in your room didn’t work beyond the toilet and sink, so for showering purposes, Eddie offered his. If you’d wanted it. And you stepped over a sea of rugs draped over each other on the floor while moving to what was your room. Right next door to Eddie’s.

A small thing with a twin bed, a camera dead center in the room where a ceiling fan definitely used to be. A barred window with black curtains pulled over it. A dresser with a broken leg. A warped mirror. And what looked to be a set of clothes from both Marric, Mercy, and you guessed Enya, since they'd been the only other person mentioned. 

On a too-short table next to the bed, there were two bottles of water, some fruit, and a lamp with a lopsided shade.

The kitchen was downstairs and directly to the right at the base of the stairs. Then, standing in your doorway, Enya and Marric’s rooms were to the left, and Mercy’s was in the sub-level cellar built below the basement for her to go to during the day. 

"My room's this way, in case you need me." His room. Right on your wall. Where you'd be hearing him all fucking night with Mercy. "Bathroom's to the left with a tub and shower, separate bullshit."

You peeked into his room and…oh. 

Oh, Eddie was already reaching to shut his door, but you put up a hand. It was the same. Nearly the same as his one from Wayne's trailer. The same Corroded Coffin banner he'd made by hand. His amps strewn about with dirty clothes. His guitar–and two more–amongst those hanging on the walls. Metallica and Dio posters. An Iron Maiden shirt tossed over his desk chair. And on his desk, the skulls.

The skulls he’d talked you into making when you were in fifth grade for a special arts program that came to visit from the city. Brought clay, passed it around, and said make something to give your parents. Halloween was just around the corner, so you were going to make a pumpkin, but then Eddie–who'd been in your classes since second grade–held up his skull and issued a challenge you couldn't ignore. You couldn't make a better one than him.

You hadn’t. Yours looked like ass next to his, but he was always frustratingly good in the creative field. 

And….

And next to it.

Right next to it.

Eddie shut the door, but you saw the cracked picture frame with your senior prom dress. You hadn’t gone together–Eddie wasn’t the prom type. But he’d said he’d drive you cause he could probably sell some shit to the others lame enough to go. So you’d gotten ready at his and Wayne’s. Earned so much shit for the pink dress you wore, and the makeup you were dabbing on. Eddie was just idly playing on his guitar the whole time, occasionally looking up while you used his wall-mirror. 

“You really know how to compliment a lady, Munson,” you’d mused. But when you turned, that talkative asshole was real quiet. Really fucking quiet. A flutter in your chest was more than enough. “Best compliment you’ve given me yet.”

You punched his knee and strolled out. Wayne caught you by the door, giving you a soft smile while holding his camera.

“Your mom would’ve,” was all Wayne said to Eddie, and then there was an arm around your shoulders. 

He took a few pictures, the flash blinding. With a hug and a goodbye, you were out the door. You’d only seen the picture Eddie chose when you passed through his room while he was packing up the trailer after Wayne’s passing. And there you’d seen it again in his new room.

Two years after last seeing each other, and far longer than that after really parting.

Couple of hours later, after prom ended, you were supposed to go home with Johnny H., who you’d been off and on dating the past few months, but apparently his commitment that made him late to prom and kept him from picking you up with Jenny L. in the back of his truck.

Still bugged you that you gave him your first time.

But there was Eddie, a phone call away. Always a phone call away. He slipped off for a second when he pulled up, and by the time you were settled in his van, mascara wiped away, he was back and ripping it out of the parking lot. You learned a day later that he’d gone and slashed Johnny’s back two ties. Earned Eddie a black eye.

Not until after he’d taken you back to his and Wayne’s, and he gave you his bed. Since Wayne was there, and since Eddie seemed real clear about giving you space, nothing happened. It was a night of getting over an asshole and sleeping in Eddie’s really warm bed.

When you woke up and Wayne was mysteriously out getting breakfast with a note saying he’d be back in four hours, then….

“Show me how your shower works again, Eds?”

It was a really horrible and a really nice twenty-four hours. Not the best memory, but not the worst. One you cherished in the form of that picture. 

“Go, uh, go get settled in. I’m gonna go grab the box from the other room. Just, uh…. Don’t run away? I love a hunt, but not like this.” Eddie was averting his eyes while walking you back. “You can call your work when I get back.”

You just nodded.

Weren’t going to push it. Weren’t ready to.

A thing from when you were kids and a prom pic taken by his late uncle didn’t mean anything. The box of sex toys he’d kept along with other things hidden away definitely meant something. But it was all too much to handle when you were still weak.

There was technically an opportunity to escape. If you’d wanted to try it. 

You stared at the camera in the ceiling while all alone in your bedroom. The other three were surely out waiting for the excuse to tackle you. But without Eddie there, you could’ve tried to escape. The door was unblocked. It wasn’t even shut.

But you just sat on the edge of that twin bed and–oh. Oh, it was cozy. It was nice. So nice. Jesus Christ. It was heavenly on your upper body. Oh. Oh, it was…so soft.

A cloud.

The pillow was too.

Oh….

Eddie was taking his sweet time coming back and…and the bed….was so soft….

The room faded into darkness. Next to you, thrashing his head to music. Familiar music. His demo. Corroded Coffin’s demo blasting from his van speakers. Eddie reached over and smacked your upper arm playfully. He beamed. Absolutely fucking beamed with the brightest eyes, the brightest smirk. 

They were gonna make it. They were gonna be big. He was damn sure of it. Everyone in the band was. After high school, they were going to go around, finally free of the tether of school and local responsibilities that they already trashed. But…but life didn't always work out so cleanly.

Eddie had his accident, and everything derailed.

And it stayed derailed.

He started doing gigs for your family, started getting into more shit, started seeing you more often in between, but wasn’t good. Not for the Eddie you knew. And damn well not for you, no matter how nice it was seeing him. No matter how fucking phenomenal the sex was.

No one compared. Not once.

Guess it was a werewolf thing. Everyone else you’d been with since trying to move on had been human.

But he had Mercy, now.

Your eyes jerked open to darkness. Eddie had Mercy. He had you tucked away in a room in his new place of residence, with his new friends, with…. With a soft blanket draped over you and…. You squinted in the dark, then squinted worse when you clicked the lamp on. He had some ibuprofen out for you, too.

And a note.

Door’s unlocked if you wanna shower when you get up. Won’t bug me if I’m sleeping. 

Still have your phone.

Alan texted you, too. Apparently had a lot of fun on your date and wants to take you out again. 

Talk more in the morning. 

Eds.

Asshole. Signing it like that. It was supposed to be some sort of olive branch, right? You sat up and took the ibuprofen first, rubbing your temples and stretching your arms. It was hard to tell what time it was, but based on a peek outside the curtains, it was still dark but close to dawn. 

You’d slept a while. A pretty long while. 

Had you slept through…? Had Eddie and Mercy…?

You glanced at the wall on his side. Nothing. Craning without moving, you listened. Nothing came through if anything was happening. Just silence. Striking, awkward silence.

He'd be in his heat any moment. He'd probably wake up in it if he hadn't started it already. Had to commend him, though. It was a full moon, and he wasn't changing. He was getting a better handle on it. 

As the silence dragged on, you couldn’t help it. Felt sticky and grimy. Gross. After the kiss, you needed to get out of your underwear and tights. Needed…. Quite frankly, the effects were still lingering, and you wanted to rummage around through that box Eddie had kept. But in a strange room, after going through all of that, with a camera where more than just Eddie could see you?

Yeah.

You could’ve waited until morning, but you needed a shower. A freezing shower.

And…you wanted to peek into Eddie’s room just to see.

Just…in case.

You pushed up gradually, getting your bearings and collecting yourself. Groggily, you stumbled over to the stack of clothing on the dresser. Large shirt, short dress, a pair of cargo shorts not in your size. You went with Marric’s shirt again. 

Holding it up to the camera, you just said, “shower.”

And you didn’t bother waiting to know if someone was actually watching you.

With your heart in your throat, you strolled out. Outside of Eddie’s door, you paused again. Waited. Still, there was silence. Not even snoring.

Oh.

Maybe he wasn’t in there?

You turned the knob anyway. Nudged the door open into darkness. Darkness with…with a crack of light. Moonlight and something else white. White from the left, where there was a glimpse of an empty bed and a cracked door. Then...sound. Rushing water.

Steam.

Turn around.

You stepped into his room.

Turn around and leave. This was a mistake.

You took quiet steps closer. Through his empty room. Toward that cracked bathroom door.

Leave.

It didn’t creak when you nudged it open. And in the black-tiled bathroom, through the bouts of steam, you saw the glass shower door. Fogged up, covered in droplets, with a blur inside. A blur. One blur? Two? One that was of two?

That familiar sensation sank into your belly. Lower. A pit and a need. A strikingly old, yet not forgotten want that ought not to be there, but it was. It was hypnotic and hazy.

Behind the glass, there was just him.

Just Eddie.

His head was back, hair down and caught under the water. His red necklace the very same striking red as the eyes that found you. Just a tilt of his head, then he was looking right at you. Flecks of yellow started to fill them. Yellow that burned as hot as the sun.

That stung and made that hole feel larger. Thicker. But he was alone.

But he was showering in the middle of the night.

One lean, one press of his fingertips to the glass. It swung open.

There. Scarred to hell and back, he stood under the water. Right…there. In arm’s reach. For you. Holding his hand out for you. That glowing look in his eye that said exactly what getting in meant. 

You'd hate yourself. 

With the ache in your upper body and the rope burn in your wrists, you knew you would. Didn’t matter how that kind of reunion went, you’d despise yourself for giving in so easily. 

But two years.

Two years since you’d felt him. Seen him. Been with him.

“I think maybe I do hate you,” you murmured. 

Eddie smirked just a little. “Then let me fuck you like it ‘til your legs give out.”

A promise. A striking, fantastic promise. Hot water sprayed you. The burn of his eyes called to you. There was no looking away. There was no leaving. This moment, you knew, was fated. But you had to at least ask.

"And Mercy? I thought she tended to your heat now."

Eddie’s hand lowered, but you refused to follow it down to see anything lower than his happy trail. A glimpse was enough, and you weren’t giving him another. Not until you got in. And this…this was a necessary conversation. 

"I met Mercy two-and-a-half years ago." Eddie dropped his head forward and there fell his hair. Dripping down in dark waves, his eyes shining through them. "Whose door did I still come crawling to because I needed them? You told me to leave after, so I left. For good." He shrugged. "Won't disparage Mercy. She would break you to pieces if you let her. This is about…." He shook his head. "It's about you. Being you.”

A sharp breath pushed out of him, water spraying. He dropped his head back again, and there, in those glowing eyes, was an antagonistic look. A blade at your throat or…or perhaps your heart. Digging. Digging and pushing and shoving until it struck and twisted.

"You're the only person I want during my heat, (Y/N)." His jaw twitched before forming a really hard line. His eyes had that manic look about them that they could so easily get when he went off on D&D tangents and music-related monologues. "These last two years have been fucking agony. You haunt my goddamn dreams and my nightmares."

He was in it. He was gone. Not that Eddie wouldn't be so poetically honest otherwise, but like this? The way his chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he shook his head continuously. The full, wild look in his eyes. He just needed. He needed and he felt, and it would be only a few minutes–if not even just seconds–before he was hunching over in physical pain. 

He must've known it too. Cause all he did was hold out his hand again. You looked at those silver rings he'd had since middle school. Looked at the scarring all along his arm, intermixed with the tattoos you'd been with him when he'd gotten them. His fingers twitched in time with the lurch in your heart.

You needed him. Two years.

You just pulled the shirt off and stepped in, the rest would figure their own way off.

Cold tile pressed through your tights. Hot, burning water sprayed. Eddie’s hand closed around yours and pulled. With a quiet click, the glass door shut you into the sweet-scented steam. He still used the same soap.

Two goddamn years.

No time was wasted. Eddie had his mouth to yours by the time you were under the water. Your tights began to suction to you, and your underwear and bra soaked up the water. But Eddie. Eddie cupped your cheeks–both cheeks–and kissed you. It was different than before. Before wasn't about a reunion. Before was to be an ass. To torment. This was to just feel.

His mouth parted with yours, hands moving you without needing to. You remembered. How the hell could you forget what kissing him was like? Even before the transformation, Eddie was fucking annoyingly good at kissing. All-encompassing. Kissing you like he was leaving the next day and not coming back.

How you should’ve kissed two years ago.

“I missed you,” he breathed against your mouth. His tongue curled and flicked your lower lip. There’d be a bite and….there. His teeth nipped just hard enough to get a gasp from you, then he leaned back in with fervor. That wildness of the beast within. “Jesus Christ, I missed you.”

“I missed you,” you sputtered, wrapping your arms around his neck, but he shoved them down. Held them down just above where your wrists were sore, and he walked you. Spun you, feet splashing on the tile, until he had you how he wanted you. 

Almost.

One flick of his hand at your back, and your bra was loose. His forehead came to yours, walking you back where you felt cold. Cold tile. Right at your back. Oh, fuck. A shiver shot along your spine, and in the interim, it was gone. Your bra dropped to the floor.

He was gone.

That glance up was pure beast. Feral and needy. In those shining eyes, he pleaded as much as he promised. Up he reached, and up came his thumb. It did that pass over your lips that you parted them for. There he was. You sucked the pad of his thumb, then kissed it. The rough sensation was so familiar. So good.

He growled, his eyes fluttering shut.

And at the drop of his hand, Eddie pounced.

His lips closed around a nipple while his fingers tweaked the other. No hesitation. No mercy. The single touch had your knees buckling. He knew what you liked. He knew how to make you come apart. And there he already was suckling and nibbling, growling against your skin like a decade had passed in two years. 

“Ohmygod,” you moaned.

The kiss, even without the extra effect, would've had you begging for him, but as you licked your lips and tasted him, your knees buckled. A clenching began to throb in a dangerous rhythm between your legs. Your clit screamed. It wanted him. It wanted to be back on that mattress while he pressed your favorite toy to it. 

Eddie kissed lower. Yes. He nipped lower. And lower, dropping to his knees. All the way to the wet floor, hands on your hips, mouth pressing without pause–oh, sweet fuck. He licked over the seam of your tights. One lick. One lick with a locked gaze.

He couldn’t wait. He was shaking. He was lost. He was lost in the clouding lust taking over his vision, and he moved quickly. His hands came to your tights right over your cunt, and as he got back to his feet, the fabric tore. The sheer black parted over the black of your underwear, baring that last layer.

“Eds,” you sputtered. 

He wasn't slowing. He just took you by your hips, turned you, and cold tile pressed to you. A warm hand pushed your cheek against it. Curled fingers brushed your cunt with a shock of pleasure, and then your underwear was moved. Yes. Your eyes shut. Yes. Yes. Yes.

His movements were so sloppy. His fingers running over your cunt and smearing what wasn't water from the shower over you. They parted you and teased your entrance with two fingers, pushing in as slow as he'd push his cock in, then you were on your toes, gasping. He fucked them into you with almost cruelty. Almost. He still had his accuracy. He still knew right where your g-spot was. And he slid a third finger in with a filling stretch to your cunt, and he reached around and rubbed your clit.

“You’re gonna hold it all in,” he breathed between kisses on your shoulder. “Every last fucking drop.”

You nodded. It hurt to stand on your toes, but fuck it. 

“Eds, don’t stop. Don’t fuckin–”

Your eyes rolled back. He wasn’t. You clawed pathetically at the black tile. Oh, sweet fuck. It felt heavenly, if you could even use that word for it. Your knees buckled, but Eddie held you up with his fingers. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sputtered. “Fucking hell. Eddie, yes.”

His teeth sank into your shoulder without drawing blood. The sharp prick contrasting with the pleasure….

You peaked.

It peaked.

Right then.

Suddenly.

Two years.

Two years!

Your climax spun and twisted and snapped at you like a fucking whip. It erupted. Clenching around his fingers, screaming out a broken moan against the wall, the pleasure swallowed. The pleasure trapped. He kept rubbing your clit and fingering you through every overwhelming, fantastic second of it.

Two! Years!

“Fuck me,” you cracked. “Please. Please.”

Eddie pulled his fingers out, and there came a harsh, unforgiving crack of his hand on your ass. His other hand was back on your head, pinning. Another spank, breaking the mold of his ferocity to breed. He struck again. A little harder, and you arched your hips back. 

“You remember that time,” he breathed against the side of your head, “with my belt at Garth’s uncle’s cabin?”

 Jesus Christ, how could you forget? You nodded just as Eddie spanked you again. It came with the similar sound of his belt. He’d only done it a handful of times, but Jesus Christ. You’d snuck back into the house when everyone was out drunk by the bonfire. Eddie wasn’t even in heat, but it was after the transformation. Things just got…got heated. Eddie had just found out how much you liked being spanked, and when he flipped you over the edge of the bed, he’d just…taken his belt off to fuck you, folded it on a whim, and tapped your ass with it.

The rush you’d gotten, especially when the window was barely covered by the curtain and you could see everyone outside enjoying the fall air….

The next morning, you found yourself standing. For…all of it. Between the few strikes he’d given your ass and the wild beast that came out when you fucked, you were sore and trying your damnedest to pretend like you weren’t. Whatever you and Eddie were doing, whatever you were was a secret then. It wasn’t unknown. Most knew he’d been your first kiss. Most were pretty certain you two should fuck if you hadn’t. But nothing specific was ever mentioned.

"I still think about how hard you came that night." Another crack echoed. You swayed a little, regaining your footing. Moving back a step, then forward. Then, bending your knees to readjust and–there. His cock. His head. Pressing against your entrance, his other hand now at your hips to hold them steady. "I think about every fucking moment we had together and how eagerly you fucking wanted me."

In.

Eddie pushed in.

Eddie–oh, Christ–he pushed in slowly, the last of his control, surely, and tears pricked. Sweet Christ, you’d missed him. He still fit inside of you so perfectly. He still nudged all the right places and stretched you so fucking well.

"Oh, fuck, I missed you," you whined. It marked the start of your repeated mantras.

Eddie, oh, Eddie just growled. All the way in, pushed balls deep already, he growled against the side of your head and gave you that long-missed bruising grasp on your hips.

“Mine,” he pushed through his teeth, and the bathroom faded. “Mine, (Y/N).”

There was no thinking needed. You just nodded. His. You were his. 

With a gradual pull out that made your thighs quiver, Eddie slammed back in. Against that cold wall, he fucked you like you were his. He fucked you like he hated you. He fucked you in the daze of his heat like he hadn’t fucked in two goddamn years.

Two fingers when in your mouth when you couldn’t keep quiet. If his spit made you fall into an itching lust, his precum wiped your thoughts. It was fucking addictive. Falling into that puddle of him, becoming your own, needing him like he needed you in a way you couldn’t explain. You’d never wanted to. Even before the attack, before this, before he needed to breed–you’d felt it. That draw, that connection, that need. It was just…there.

It was him.

You needed him. 

“Yes.” Those fingers you’d been sucking on reached around you. “Yes. Yes. Damn it. Eddie. Eddie.”

The water started to turn cold, but it sizzled against your skin. Harder. Rougher. Eddie slammed into you, making your whole body jolt. Yes. Everything faded out into pleasure again. Yes. Yes. Yes. It was good. So good. Your thighs quivered, and you clenched around his cock. There. There. There!

Eddie slammed in harder, and pleasure whited out for just a second. He grunted loudly and rocked his hips, thrusting in and out quickly. There. There. There. Him too. He latched onto you. Clung to you like he was drowning, and he came. He pushed up on his toes, pinned you against the wall, and came.

Hard.

A lingering, lasting climax that filled you with just endless, merciless need.

He shuddered. 

“Mine,” he said against your shoulder. “Hold it in.”

And before you could respond, he threw you out of the shower.

Eddie’s sheets were the same. Gray, with a bleach stain in the corner, that felt exactly as his old ones did. They smelled like him, though that could’ve just been him. Behind you, one of your legs lifted up, the lid on that box open beside his bed. The entire frame creaked and shifted with every thrust. The low hum of that toy in his hand made your vision shake.

Eddie kept your leg hooked around his elbow so he could reach up and choke you at the same time.

“There you go,” he grunted. He’d put that little vibrating end right against your clit and hadn’t moved it since. “Again. Again.”

Again.

Cum leaked out of you no matter how hard you tried to hold it in. But Eddie kept fucking you. Kept that toy right at your swollen clit, snarling against the back of your head when you came apart for him again–and again–with pitiful cries. Gushing around his cock in an endless cycle.

Sunlight crept in through the window.

Your voice snapped through the room as you came again, convulsing and falling on your stomach. There was nothing else you could give. Nothing else you could endure. Fifteen. Fifteen times that you’d kept track of. Came…came fifteen times….

Eddie growled in his last thrust, his cock ramming deep. He stilled, holding onto the bed, his entire body trembling just like yours did. Then, his limit was there. A sudden exasperation that led him to falling half on top of you and half on his bed.

Huffing.

Both of you huffing. The sheets clung to you, slick with a sheen of sweat that’d require another shower. But you couldn’t move. Wouldn’t dare to. So much of you already hurt, but it was the good hurt. The satisfied ache that you’d never be able to go forward without thinking about.

Goosebumps rose under the soft drag of Eddie’s fingers. From your hip up to your shoulder blade, he traced. He scratched tenderly. He kissed.

“Don’t leave again,” Eddie breathed against your shoulder. “Don’t leave me.”

It wasn’t that simple. You weren’t destined to work together without someone compromising in a way they’d hate. Outside of this…this faction of the realm with Eddie, you had a life. You had new friends. A job. And Eddie wasn’t just going to throw away what he enjoyed doing. He…he couldn’t. There were primal parts of him he had to indulge. Parts that were a blurred and a crossed line for you.

“Can’t,” you wound up saying with a soft smile. “Some asshole kidnapped me and managed to talk me into sticking around for the next week.”

Eddie snorted. Another kiss found you between your shoulder blades. 

“Hold it all in for me, baby,” he murmured. “I’m gonna get you some water and a towel.”

You started to answer affirmatively, but when Eddie pulled out, you short-circuited a little. Empty and cold; you still clenched to keep in what you could, but it was…so empty. A glimpse into what awaited you in a week. No more Eddie. No more of that hole filled and the puzzle whole again.

It was a painful fact. Many of them were. That life just had to end up this way. Bad things happened. A random werewolf attacked the random young guy just trying to take a piss in the woods. You refused to accept the family business and took off, disowning them. Your best friend of almost two decades lost so much and had to give up more. And you had to leave because there was nothing you could do to steer him on a path he wasn't interested in.

Your best friend strolling out of his bathroom, wet and dry towels in hand, a bottle of water plucked up from a hidden mini fridge, who made the sunlight engulf the room. Who took you like you were a thing to take and use to get what he wanted, and yet, and yet, and yet.

He perched on the side of the bed and rubbed your back. Only a little, he pushed spilled cum back into you, letting you get a few sips of water in before he did it. Living in different worlds, with different needs between primal, beastly, and just…humanistic, he still had that same wild, crooked smirk before he went and did something stupid. Lifted some cigarettes from the corner store with shitty service. Jumped off the roof into Garth’s uncle’s pool. Utterly shitfaced, started monologuing about the new campaign he was working on or the new song he was writing.

When he’d brought you out one night after a local Corroded Coffin performance, took your face in his hands, brushed your mouth with his thumb, and kissed you against the streetlight just outside the arcade. Kissed you until heat steamed underneath your coat. Until you looked up at him so longingly, you couldn’t imagine a life without him.

The same man who cleaned you up and dried you off, giving you an oversized shirt to wear while you curled up in his bed. The same man who sat with you, side by side on the picnic tables outside of school, a hand on your thigh while you cried. Sobbed about what everyone said your parents did. What you knew your parents did. What they wanted you to do, too. Who sat there with you, gave you his hankie, and stayed until you didn't have any tears left. Then he whisked you off to the music store, the bookstore, the library, your favorite diner, the arcade, the movies. Wherever you needed to be to catch your breath.

That same man who climbed in next to you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. Who sleepily murmured an apology you didn't need to hear while he rubbed the aches from your wrists. 

Tears started to prick, but you couldn’t. Couldn’t even so much as start thinking about crying. He’d sense it. He’d know.

And if he did, he’d ask.

Then you’d have to lie or tell him the truth, and if you lied, he’d figure it out. 

There was nothing for the two of you together awaiting you at the end of this. 

This started bad, and it was going to end worse. But at the very least, you could enjoy the middle like only a little had changed. And then, when you eventually returned to your life, when you parted ways and went back to the way things were, you'd be able to handle it. You'll have gotten it out of your system or…or you'd be capable of at least processing it. Grieving it.

Cause you were in love with your best friend.

And there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.

Beside you, Eddie started snoring. Warm in his arms, body starting to tremble, one tear snuck out, but he was out. 

Seven days.

There was never enough time in the world. 

[wheezyreads]

i don’t care in my mind they’re gonna live happily ever after. call me a wuss but i cant deal with unhappy endings😔

this was great

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

obsessive!Captain Levi always keeps an eye on you, under the plausible deniability of looking out for his soldiers.

He notices things- he can’t help it, somehow, when it comes to you. He can tell when you didn’t sleep well, noting the faint shadows under your eyes and the half-second delay of your response time in training. He silently disapproves when you don’t finish your rations, wondering if you’re sick or just distracted. And if you’re distracted- by who? Someone who’s about to be assigned cleaning duty for the next month, as far away from your post as they can be.

He doesn’t mean to, exactly. But he knows for damn sure that none of the snot-nosed recruits around you could ever be worth your time. No. You’re something special.

So Captain Levi keeps you close. Your form is already near perfect- he just has to adjust your stance personally. And if his hand lingers on your waist, or his fingers tighten around your wrist just for a moment? It’s nothing. Typical hard-ass Captain, probably brushing dust from your uniform.

He’s sure that he’s being subtle about it. He never stares long enough for you to catch him in the act, though you always seem to feel those steely eyes appraising you. He never lingers around your barracks, never sits near you in the mess- it’s always someone else who conveniently assigns you to his missions or pairs you up for inspection.

Inspections are some of his favorite moments. His fingers smoothing over your collar, making you tie your hair back- sometimes when he kneels down to examine the harness on your thighs, he over-tightens the straps just to hear your stifled gasp. (He’ll fix them right after, he’s not cruel.)

No, nobody knows of his attentions, of the way you’ve infiltrated every corner of his mind, threatening the discipline he’s always lived by. But something tells him it can’t go on forever. One day he might just break.

[wheezyreads]

break break break break

[gaybybirth]

hypnotic pollination 

Johnny Storm x Personal Assistant fem!Reader (NSFW)

Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0 // AO3

Synopsis: A random villain attack ends with no casualties and a captured attacker, but the lingering effects are catastrophic. At least, they feel that way. 

Warnings: nsfw content - sex pollen/extreme aphrodisiac, dub-con because sex pollen/fuck or die effects, hypnotic-like effects of arousal/mindbreaking, unprotected sex, creampies, feral/rough sex, clit stim, sloppy kissing, pulling johnny’s hair, a brief moment of choking, reader scratches the fuck outta Johnny’s back, light aftercare

Word Count: 4.3k 

A/N: You will have to pry personal assistant readers from my cold dead hands. They are so much fun to write about with Johnny. Anyways, Happy Kinktober! Here’s a sex pollen/fuck or die fic! 

The second you saw the pink smoke, you knew something was wrong. Not the obvious kind of wrong when there was a broken window and a burst of pink smoke from a small capsule just in front of you. Johnny threw himself around you, pulling you away from the raining shards of glass and moving quickly toward the closest safe spot.

The villain on a hoverboard-type device flew out with another canister in hand, grinning manically underneath their mask.

An attack like that was just part of the job, and something Johnny handled on his own with one squeeze of your arm, telling you to stay safe and stay hidden. You'd do that. After making sure others were safe, too. 

As he went after the attacker, the pink smoke faded into the breeze as quickly as it’d been there. Swirling around you, the tree Johnny brought you toward, and then dissipating. It smelled…sort of like poppies, but slightly…off. 

That’s when you knew something was wrong. A much different kind of wrong.

Adrenaline pumped even while you coughed, taking in too much of the lingering smoke while running to get others to safety. There wasn’t actually much damage. Just the window the attack had burst from, and then the lingering canister. Otherwise, you were just moving to make sure others weren’t too harmed by the glass, directing them to already-approaching ambulances if they were cut or scratched, and making sure the location was secured.

Johnny would have your head for it. It wasn’t part of your job description, but he wasn’t there to stop you.

Something was really wrong.

You slumped against the side of a building while the commotion died down. Your coat felt rather heavy, and a light layer of sweat was starting to form, as if it were summer underneath your layers. Your sweater was too tight. The layers of your skirt and the cinching of your belt and tights were torture. Your boots pinched, and your hat and gloves were too much.

You pulled at them, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths. Cold air against the top of your head and over your fingers was brief. Much too brief. It made no sense, yet it was like you'd been cursed with Johnny's powers, just with no flames to see. Your hands trembled while you looked over yourself, the brick rubbing against your coat.

No fire.

No flames.

But there was something. Something wrong. Something that made your heart beat travel into your ears and lower. Much lower. Down through your stomach and right where your thighs–

A flash of light had you looking up from your heaving chest. Johnny dropped to the ground, checking with each person he passed on his way to you. A light dusting of red was over his cheeks, but he was always flushed when he came out of the flames at first. Especially in the cold where he could make a humid day sizzle.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, coming up to you instantly and cupping your cheek. 

He never needed gloves. He never needed more than a light coat. Yet when he touched you, it didn’t burn. It didn’t make you flinch away while already overheating. It was worse. It was considerably worse.

You leaned into it. 

“Fine,” you forced out before he could notice. Tearing yourself away to look elsewhere from him was obvious, but you didn’t care. Something was wrong, you just didn’t know what. Couldn’t find what it was. “Yeah, I’m…I’m fine. Did you get them?”

Blue eyes searched yours when you briefly found your way back to him, an unreadable expression coming over him. He nodded while his throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

"Yeah, they're in custody. Don't know what they wanted; they just said they wanted to spice up my night. Not our problem anymore. We should get back." He already had his hand on your waist. "I'll, uh, I'll get you a cab and meet you back. Okay?"

You nodded.

“Sure, yeah.”

What was he saying? It was hard to think. Had you actually gotten hurt in the scuffle? No. No, you hadn’t fallen. You hadn’t hit your head. Nothing had hit you. Only some glass that Johnny already brushed off of you. 

So it wasn’t that. It wasn’t anything. Except that weird pink smoke…. 

When the cab door shut and Johnny gave the driver directions, it came gradually. Like a dozen hands underneath your clothing not quite touching, but they were there. Acting like an idea that came with phantom touches and promises of something you couldn’t put your own fingers on, but your body still reacted to it. 

Sitting so perfectly still, you stared out the window at the approaching Baxter Building. Focus fogged into an oblivion. A pinpoint of what you were supposed to do was there. Get into the building, take the elevator up, find Johnny. But everything had a hue of pink about it that had it fuzzying over into nonsense. Still there, still conscious, but when the cab eventually stopped and you stepped out, it was an almost literal, slow seep down your thighs.

By the first step, it was an ache. Low and clenching. When you reached the doors you actively fell against, it throbbed. Your heart beat sang the rhythm, and your thighs began to quiver. When you stumbled through the lobby and slammed a hand against the elevator button, your forehead against the wall above it, you were clenching around nothing, soaking your underwear in blinding need.

At the ding of the elevator and the opening of the doors, you just took the only step necessary before collapsing against the support rail. The room wanted to go topsy-turvy, and you almost pressed the wrong button to take you up to their living quarters. 

Oh, God.

Cold. The wall was nice and cold. The urge grew to tear your coat off. To rip it to shreds if you couldn't get it off fast enough. Everything. You wanted everything off. Down to your underwear, stark naked with nothing to restrict. 

That clenching continued as the elevator lurched up and carried you on your way.

It started to hurt.

A throbbing in your nipples and down in your clit joined. It was an abrupt entrance. No gradual joining in. No change in the theme or the song that began to sing inside of you. No, as the elevator stopped and you clutched that railing until your knuckles hurt, your body screamed for one thing.

Fuck. 

Fuck and fill and fall into the rough rapids and satisfy it by any means. Through all means. The slam of your heart, the rip of focus, the buckling of your knees when you tried to step from the elevator…. You dropped against the closest counter, shaking. 

You needed to find Johnny.

You probably needed to find Reed, too.

But Johnny should've been back by then, so him. Him first. You'd find him first, and you'd go to Reed together. Yes, that was the solution. Johnny was. Johnny.

You just…had to get up the stairs to his room, first.

Every step was agony. Clinging to the banister, each step up was a press of your tights against you in a way akin to torture. It did nothing, yet it did everything. Your thighs never stopped quivering. Your breathing never regulated. And with all your might, you leaned up against the wall at the top of the steps, panting, unbuttoning your coat with a composure that was dwindling by the second.

Johnny.

Had to keep going. Had to try.

Pushing up with a small grunt, you found his bedroom door cracked. The lights were on–good. He was there. He was in there, then. 

“Johnny,” you said, nudging the door open, and you only made it one step.

His shirt was off, and he had his back pressed against the wall. A sharp press of his brows barely alleviated when his eyes cracked open. He didn't sweat; it always burned off, and yet there was a sheen. There was a really, really nice glisten across his bare chest all the way down to where he clutched his shirt with whitening knuckles.

Darkened blue eyes went your way while he pressed his head back.

Something was dangerously wrong. 

“You too?” he asked on a sigh.

You nodded.

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

Pink danced across his cheeks and went all the way up to his ears. He pressed his head back harder, and at the half-lidded look, you knew it. You shouldn’t. The correct course of action was to go to Reed. To…to flush your system or…or something. Reed would know. Reed would know exactly how the fuck to fix this. 

You worked for him–all of them–all you had to do was go to Reed, and he’d figure it out. 

If it was because of that pink smoke, then it could be undone.

But that level of clarity wasn’t lingering when Johnny gave you a half-lidded look. When he pushed up from the wall with a slightly pained expression and the obvious physical reaction just below his belt. You stepped out of his way so he could lead the charge. If he went to Reed’s, you’d go. You’d follow. 

But the ache hurt. It had you falling back against the wall in the next increasing wave. It slammed into you like those invisible hands were holding you at your wrist, elbow, arms, legs, ankles. Pulling you every which way while you internally screamed to get your clothes off. To alleviate the ache. 

With a shutting of your eyes and a gasp, you pressed your head back against the wall to grab onto that last little bit of hope. Hope for what, you couldn’t exactly say. The pink filter was all-encompassing, and the second Johnny was close, the second you smelled him, it was like a lit fuse.

It was wrong.

It’d screw everything up.

But rationality was dripping out of you right between your legs.

He reached for the door, your eyes locking, and at the touch of his hand to the thick wood, he didn’t pull. One push, and at the click of the latch, everything shifted.

A canted angle of the room. A switch flipped. Drunk on an improbable, uncontrollable sensation of two locks being done together and their keys thrown away, the next his hand touched was your cheek.

You were together by the next tick of the clock on his wall.

Johnny. The only coherent thought that fluttered through your broken ones. Your coat was practically whipped from your shoulders and thrown to the floor. So much of him was under your hands. Bare chest, shoulders, stomach, side, up to his neck, and into his hair. His mouth crashed against yours, where you met him halfway, sloppily. Desperately. It pricked the back of your head just how animalistic it was. Pulling you toward him without any hesitation for composure. There was just a primal, frantic ache. A draw. A need.

You pulled at his hair however you could. You couldn’t be apart. If you were apart, it was like tearing away glued pieces of paper. It hurt. It hurt so much. 

He tasted…so good.

A nip at his bottom lip. One at yours. The scent of burnt wool wafted briefly, and there were his hands at your waist. Through your sweater. A break in the kiss caused agony while you looked down at the ruined material, but who cared? It got him closer to you, and that's what mattered.

Closer. Closer. 

Belt. Pants.

You nuzzled into him while glancing down. Steps were walked back with stumbles, but you managed to get that belt undone. Managed to undo the button and the zipper of his pants. Managed only that before the edge of his bed was at your legs, and then you both were atop it.

One knee knocked your legs open as his mouth crashed to yours once more. His hands pinned yours back beside your head, the curve of his body melding with yours and his hips…. His belt clanked with every roll of his hips. The layers of your skirt, your tights–it was too much. It wasn’t enough.

“Johnny,” was all you managed in a desperate, crackling plea.

There was nothing else. It was all so overwhelming and yet not enough. More of your sweater was burnt off before the remnants were lifted over your head. Your bra was discarded along the way. The puff of his breath against your cheek while he reached down and shoved your skirt up until it was an awkward bunch between you. But it was the fastest, and that's what mattered.

That was the only thing that mattered.

His hands skated lower over your hips and–riiiiip.

Your head pushed back into his absurdly soft mattress as your tights gave way so, so easily. His fingers splayed over your hips and inner thighs before ripping them further. Nothing left, just your underwear. And with a lean over you, a hook of his fingers while he shoved his pants and briefs down, there was nothing but him.

Your eyes were already shut, and your back already arched for him. Keeping your legs wide with ease that was like a hypnotic command, you reached for him as his tip pressed against you. Nothing mattered except that immediate push into you. Not too slow, not too hard, not too fast. A savoring, hot, silky press of his cock all the way into you.

In unison, you both moaned.

A moan that came much like a sigh of relief, but there was no relief. No actual earth-shattering, thought-returning relief. There was just more. The need for more. The flooding, dam-breaking need that had tears in your eyes already. Your clit ached for attention, and the friction of his chest against yours was enough to drive you mad. The friction against your nipples had you clawing at his back and holding him closer.

“Johnny,” you whined.

Didn’t need to tell him, though. He was already burying his face into the crook of your neck and planting a lingering, searing kiss that was chased with a harsh bite. Oh. Your eyes rolled back, and that was it. His hips started to move, and everything faded into the instant gratification of his cock dragging inside of you. Fit so perfectly. Rubbed every sensitive spot on the thrust in. 

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You pulled his hair and held him as close as you could.

Tears started to skate down from the corners of your eyes, and everything started to fade into lustful, feral obscurity. You buried your face wherever you could against him when the handful of controlled thrusts lost their rhythm, and it was just primal. Rough and deep, he rutted into you. Fucking you into his mattress, his blankets getting knocked askew, his pillows falling as you moved further back. 

The sounds were wet and vulgar. Skin against wet skin. His hips and yours angled just the right way that every thrust–fuck. When you opened your eyes, he and the room were just blurred into white-hot pleasure. It was nothing but delicious friction, and it continued, and continued, and continued closer toward a peak that had new tears forming. That had you yanking on his short hair and bringing his mouth to yours. Sloppily.

Why you nodded, you couldn’t say. But you did, frantically. It was right. It all felt right. 

Yes. Yes. Yes.

The peak got taller. Your toes curled in your boots. 

Johnny reached between you, and a brush of his fingers over your clit was it. A button was pressed, and that fuse reached its end. The white-hot pleasure from earlier was nothing compared to the sudden break in reality. Like an active volcano, the net of pleasure choked you, and all was lost. Pleasure erupted, gushing and clenching around his cock to the point where pleasure became so strong it hurt, and you kicked. You scratched. And Johnny must've had the slightest bit of consciousness left because he slammed his hand over your mouth as you screamed.

Everything whited out except the lost rhythm in his thrusts. The pleasure was indescribable. Pure ecstasy in your veins as you rode that high second after lingering second, digging your heels into the bed, reddening his back with scratches, and there, nestled against your cheek, his thighs quivering like yours, he groaned. It bounced against the walls before falling in a low vibration that danced around your core.

He came.

Thrusting harder.

Deeper.

Rougher.

His hand fell from your mouth and closed around your throat with just enough force to make you clench around him again.

He came. So, so hard. He trembled on top of you, a shuddering breath coming for you both. Your head pressed back against the bed, a slight sliver of consciousness coming through the pink filter. Enough so that you recognized the obvious only briefly. Just as Johnny’s hands slid underneath you, unzipping your skirt, then going higher to find your chest. Squeezing your breasts while his breathing got ragged again.

It wasn’t stopping.

It wasn’t going away.

Fuck. You swallowed hard, feeling the press of his cock–still achingly hard inside of you–go further while he lifted up. Kiss-swollen lips were what you saw first. Then the blush across his cheeks. The dread was a faraway ache that had nothing on the rest inside of you when you glanced up at those wild, pathetically desperate blue eyes. You knew you mirrored that same look.

You both knew.

It wasn’t over yet.

He lowered his mouth back to yours in the closest kiss to gentle that any kiss of the night would reach, and you cupped his cheeks, holding him there. Slowly parting your mouth with his, tasting the addictive taste that was him. Really tasting him, sighing as he leaned further into you, his hips….

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started thrusting into you again, slowly.

Your name was a whisper on his lips, but that's all that needed to be said. It was half a question and half a plea. But you understood. You were exactly where he was. The fallout would come later when you were both sobered up–hopefully sobered up–from the effects. You'd handle it then. 

The second he rutted in deep, that sliver of consciousness was gone, and that primal urge had you both in a chokehold.

The minutes turned into hours as he fucked you into his bed. Clothing shed in moments of caught breaths. Boots kicked off. Legs pinned back, hips pinned down, on your belly, on your hands and knees, straddling him as the sun started to set. There was only the growing aches that gradually dissipated with each explosive, blinding orgasm. Each ripping through you and into the other, a ball bounced back and forth, with stamina wavering and–thankfully–the effects.

Aches became new aches as you rode him, him sitting up and holding you at the back of your neck, meeting every bounce with a thrust. They were sloppy and weaker, the moonlight shining through his window. His eyes were half-lidded, and bags underneath them surely mimicked the ones you swore you could feel.

Cum leaked out of you and ruined his sheets.

How either of you had anything left to give….

The clock read midnight when you both collapsed. You were on top of him, head in the crook of his neck, and shaking with such a deep tremor, you couldn't fight it. He wrapped an arm around you, barely stroking your back, breathing just as hard as you were. Conscious, but not. With every heavy blink, that pink filter faded.

You lay atop your boss, naked, leaking his cum as your cunt still fluttered around his cock. Softening cock. Finally softening.

“Morning,” Johnny grunted, tapping at the center of your back a few times. He huffed between words. “We’ll deal with it…in the morning….”

He reached down, and the side table next to his bed was partly refrigerated, and with a grunt, he flicked the small door open, and two bottles of water were pulled out. A kind gesture, but you couldn't move. At all.

He couldn't either, it seemed. He just set them down on his side table, and when you nodded, his entire body relaxed. A lingering tension faded, and his arm draped around you. One shift, and you were empty, but that was as far as you'd made it.

Unconsciousness came for you in a heartbeat, and it kept you captive in a cage without sight of the key. Sleep that replayed the visit to the manufacturers of Johnny's new action figure coming out, stepping out into the street side by side while he beamed about the progress and you tucked away the finished schedule for the day. Then the broken glass and the smoke. That pink, burning, hypnotic smoke. The ride back and the blur of events from the second you left the elevator and stepped into Johnny's room.

Then it was a replay in a simultaneous slow-motion capture of every obscene second and far too much of everything to fully comprehend it. All you knew when your eyes opened to the sunlight in the room, you were wrapped in Johnny's arms, on your side, with the blankets pulled over you. Post-sex. Post a lot of rough, hard sex that had your mouth falling open at the slightest move of your legs.

But it was gone. That hypnotic draw and the pink filter. You blinked, and sleepily, you could think. You could look around the room and capture where you were completely coherently. You…. You glanced over your shoulder at Johnny sleeping, nestled up against your back, breathing softly still as naked as you. 

Oh, God. Of all the ways to have ended up in this scenario….

His brows pinched, and your heart stopped cold when his eyes opened and he blinked sleepily at you. Surely a slow recognition of the person beside him in bed being you. Your heart was pounding anew, and you swallowed hard as he pulled his hand up from between you to wipe his eyes. The one around your midsection stayed.

“Morning,” he murmured in a voice that pushed you a bit back toward last night. 

That was it? Morning?

"Johnny," you breathed, angling away because of morning breath, and facing him…. Jesus, Johnny. What were you supposed to say? Good morning? Just act like nothing was amiss? “Um.”

His arm left you and slid out from beneath the blankets, but the warmth of him was trapped underneath. You didn't move as he did, unsure what was about to happen, if you were going to lose your job, or what–

“Drink.” Plastic touched your upper arm, and you blinked back at him, his eyes still so, so sleepy. “You need to drink after all of that.”

You nodded. You did. And the thirst hit you like a freight truck. Holy. You sat up on one elbow, the ache slamming into you worse, and Johnny opened the bottle for you while you gasped. He propped up the same beside you, his hand between you, reaching out and brushing softly against your hip. Not once. Not twice. Continuously. 

Damn near almost choked on your water, but you still managed to down the entire bottle.

“Listen,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. You had to listen, yeah, but you did so with that dread coming back in. “I’ll get my shower heated up for you and, uh, find you a new shirt to wear, and then I’m going to rinse off in the spare bathroom. Um, take your time, hang out in here after.” He set the empty bottle on his nightstand and flattened down the bedhead roughing up his hair. “I’m gonna go bug Reed about this to make sure we’re in the clear. I’ll just tell him it was me affected by it. Relax and get some rest. Okay? I’ll sneak you outta here once everything’s good.”

You blinked, staring a little blankly at him. That was… extremely considerate. It…. Not that Johnny wasn't a considerate person, but it…. It was just….

“Thank you,” you breathed. 

His fingers still brushed over your hip. 

Your bare hip.

Naked.

You were both so, so naked underneath those covers.

A quick flick of his eyes over your face, and your heart was skipping another beat. A faint smile made it worse, and you had no shield against that. He just nodded. Like last night wasn’t some catastrophic event. And with the continuous drag of his fingers….

Your breathing got a little deeper.

"Sorry about your sweater," he said with a crooked smile. "I'll get you a fireproof one so I can't ruin another one like that."

Another skipped beat. Johnny quirked a brow before they furrowed, and he nodded. In your silence, you knew what it meant. But you didn't have anything to say to counter it. After last night…. Afflicted by whatever the attacker had thrown your way didn't change the fact that the tingling relief of every explosive climax still lingered. The feel of him still lingered.

“I think that’s a fair deal,” you found yourself murmuring.

That crooked smile became a full one with a look up at you through his lashes.

“I’ll get my shower started.” A squeeze. The brush of his fingers became a squeeze of your hip. 

You nodded, and there Johnny–with a soft groan–rolled slowly out of bed. Naked. Very naked with a nice sight your way as he stalked to his bathroom. His back…. He wouldn’t be able to be without a shirt around anyone for a while if he’d planned it. No blood was drawn, but his back was red with a slew of scratches that’d burn under the water in the shower.

Oh, no.

And there were hickies. When had you left those? Everything really was a blur. A deep, throbbing blur.

Hearing the shower turn on, a shuddering breath found you, and you squeezed his sheets.

This wasn’t something that was going to just go away. And wherever it led….

A hard swallow found a knot in your throat. Your hip tingled from his touch.

You were screwed one way or another. 

Majorly. 

[wheezyreads]

theyre in love your honor

[pathologicalreid]

i'll leave a light on | s.r.

in which Spencer seeks you out after years apart, and he comes to find some doors are never fully closed

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: exes to lovers, p in v sex, grinding/dry humping, porn with so much plot, post s15, spencer and penelope bff agenda, phone exhibitionism and breeding if you squint word count: 5.1k a/n: exes to lovers for my lover because she loves exes okay getting this up before i go #ghost bc i have a fat migraine okay love you all lots byeeeeee

He patted the pocket of his suit jacket once he got out of his car, feeling his newly issued FBI credentials sitting in the same place they’d been the last thirteen times he checked. Shutting the door, he paused, looking up at your porch and wishing the last thread of doubt would leave his mind. 

You’d moved since the last time he’d spoken to you, which gave you five years to have left your studio in exchange for a house in Virginia. He wondered if you shared it with anyone, if someone had coaxed you out of the district and into a little house. Spencer hadn’t shared his life with anyone else since you, and he had no interest in making that change. 

The blinds were shut, but he could see light peeking through them, shadows flying through the upstairs. More importantly, your porch light was on. 

You promised him. With tears in your eyes, you promised him that if the day ever came where his life looked different, you would be there, waiting for him. 

While inexperienced in the realm of relationships, Spencer knew that five years was a long time to hold a candle for one person, yet, he’d protected the flame that had only ever been meant for you. He didn’t doubt that you’d be changed, in fact he was counting on it. The last five years hadn’t been kind to him, and while he always hoped the world had been gentle with you, he didn’t know how it would feel if you opened your front door to reveal the girl you’d been the last time you said goodbye. The only time you said goodbye, hopefully. 

He couldn’t procrastinate anymore, ignoring the periodic buzzing of his phone—Garcia, the only person who knew where he was right now—he walked up the driveway and braved the steps. Swallowing his fear, he lifted his hand to the dark green door, rapping at your door before he had the chance to talk himself out of it. 

The sound had caught you off guard, he could tell by the way something clattered to the floor and you muttered to yourself as you approached the front door. The lock clicked and swung open, “Hey, I thought we were…” Your voice trailed off as your eyes rose to meet his, “Spence.” 

His nickname never seemed as sweet coming from anyone else’s mouth. He’d fallen asleep imagining the soft syllable slipping from your lips, it was something he’d repeated to himself in prison, clutching onto scraps of his own sanity—scraps of you. His lips parted to speak to you, but in all of the scenarios he’d run through his head, he’d never imagined just how perfect you looked. He had prepared for every possible outcome and somehow you still rendered him entirely speechless. 

You looked like you had been getting ready to go somewhere, hair and makeup done, with your favorite jeans clad on your legs. Either you’d clung to the same pair all these years or you’d managed to find a startling facsimile. He hoped he wasn’t ruining your plans, or maybe he hoped he was throwing a wrench in your evening, stopping something before it became irreversible. 

Fishing through his pocket, he pulled out his credentials for you to see, flipping them open so you could see. He’d taken a new photo for it, entirely replacing the version of himself that placed too much worth on his job at the FBI. 

Your brow furrowed while you studied the badge, eyeing the words suspiciously. He longed to kiss your brow, to smooth the crease away, but he waited for your cue. Reaching out, you plucked the badge from his hands to get a closer look at it. Disbelief was clear on your face when you met his eyes again. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to ask, “Do you remember?” He could recall that night so vividly, the tears on your face when you told him you couldn’t be with him anymore, but he didn’t want to know if you could remember the hurt, he wanted to know if you remembered the hope that you had instilled in him. It’s not too late for us, he wanted to insist, but he waited still. 

Slowly, you started to nod, “I remember.” You held on to the credentials, and he wondered if that was a sign you were going to ask him to stay. “Consultant?” You asked, the frown on your face becoming a permanent fixture of the conversation. 

He nodded, “I’m going to be a full-time professor at Marbury University starting in the fall, and I’ll consult for the BAU from time to time. Mostly by phone and video-call, sometimes it might be in person, but very little travel. If any, really, according to Emily.” Reeling himself in before he could fully ramble, “My life is different.” 

But one look at you told him that yours was too, you were in your house, and he couldn’t quite tell if your hair was darker or if it was just the light. The worst outcomes he had imagined were seeing the door open to reveal a ring on your finger or a baby on your hip, but all he saw was you, as beautiful as the day you walked out his door. Your face narrowed, taking the inside of your cheek between your back molars as you tried to process the information he’d begun laying out for you. “Emily?” You questioned the name he mentioned, one you clearly recognized, but you recalled it as one that teetered between unspoken and uttered. Last you knew, Emily was living in London and working for Interpol. 

While he’d been aware of everything that had changed between then and now, he saw the confusion in your familiar eyes, he noticed the way it mixed with your apprehension. You weren’t sure if you wanted to let him in - physically into your home or emotionally into your life. Explanations balanced precariously on the tip of his tongue, stories and reasons of friends who had come and gone, narratives of villains that were too terrible to name. “It’s been a long time,” he responded, wondering if you’d take that as explanation enough, or if you needed more from him. He would give it to you, of course, he would do anything you asked. 

The devil on his shoulder wondered if that was why he found himself so drawn to you. You hadn’t seen each other in five years. He felt like he’d lived lifetimes since the last time he saw you, there had been babies born and lives lost between then and now. Was his remaining attraction to you nothing but himself yearning for who he had been when he was with you? Who he had been five years ago was starkly different from the version of himself that was standing on your porch right now, but in that moment, he took a look at you. For the first time in five years, he allowed himself to study you. The real you, not someone in the grocery store who might’ve resembled you or a girl on the metro who wore the same leather jacket, he studied you and realized that you too had changed. Even just in your doorway, you carried yourself differently, as if time had chiseled at you the same way it had weathered him. In a petrifying silence, he waited for you to respond. To schedule a meet at a coffee shop or to turn him away, either way, he’d be grateful for the privilege to have heard the distinct cadence of your voice just one more time. 

He’d dug himself so deep in his head that he hadn’t heard your response, he cocked his head at you slightly, “What?” Desperation was clear in his voice, watching how you shrunk slightly in on yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest and scratching your upper arm nervously. 

You nodded your head inside of the house, “Do you wanna come in?” Your voice was unsure, but the confidence you had when opening the door further to let him in told him it wasn’t because you were doubting your decision. It was because you didn’t know if he’d want to come inside. 

As if that was ever something he’d consider. Turning you down would be the worst mistake he ever made, and he’d made a lot of mistakes in the last five years. “Please,” he responded, relief flooding through his veins so quickly it made his throat tight while he crossed the threshold, minding the mat you clearly had set out for shoes and slipping his off before turning to face you. 

Casually, you leaned against the banister, studying him in the soft light of the foyer, smiling softly when your eyes looked to the floor, taking in the familiarity of his mismatched socks. A sign that some things never change, even with the passage of time. 

With that knowing smile on your face, you walked past him, keeping your hands behind your back as you took exaggerated strides toward the kitchen, “Coffee? Tea?” You asked, spinning on your sock covered feet to gauge his reactions to your offers, watching as you floated through the house, obviously comfortable with your surroundings. When he asked Penelope if he had your address, he didn’t have the time to ask how long you’d been there, he just knew he needed to go, with your location in hand, he couldn’t allow more barriers to get in his way. 

“Coffee,” he answered, settling himself behind one of your barstools. Not yet bold enough to take a seat, he rested his hands patiently on the back of the seat, watching you scoop the grounds into your old coffee maker. Something familiar, remaining from your old apartment that he could find solace in. He absorbed the way you expertly grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, speaking only when he saw you grab the sugar, “Black is fine.” 

Now, he saw you falter. The first chink in your well preserved armor as you found your first difference, the man who previously drank coffee so sweet it made your jaw ache at the thought of it now drank his coffee black. If this change was enough to interrupt your flow, he feared how finding out he changed his caffeine preference because of his time in prison would affect you. He couldn’t allow this moment of pause to ruin the plans he had for the two of you, gratefully accepting the mug when you slid it across the polished countertop and smiling fondly while you prepared your own cup, your preferences identical to what they’d been five years ago. “Do you wanna sit?” You asked him, leading the way into your living room, you took a seat on the couch, nestling yourself in the corner of the sectional and beaming while he took his seat. 

He kept himself a whole couch cushion away from you, maintaining approximately three feet of distance from his own happiness, just in case you were greeting him as a friend instead of a lover. He watched as you puckered your lips to blow on your coffee before taking a sip. “You look good,” he told you, his voice level in tone and volume. 

You smiled again, this time it was demure, a reaction to his compliment that had caught you off guard, leaving you with nothing but your mug to hide behind while your eyes floated up to his. Studying him with your gaze, you seemed to consider your options before responding, “You look tired, Spence.” 

It took him back. A phrase so simple yet so familiar to him. You’d spoken it to him often in another lifetime, telling him he looked tired while pulling him down to the worn leather couch in his apartment until he complied with you, resting his head in your lap while you ran your fingers through his hair and tried to coax him to sleep. He’d spent so many evenings with you dragging your cool fingertips beneath his eyes before allowing you to slip through his fingers. “I am,” he answered, his voice hesitant with the truth, a mental block telling him he had no business being so honest with you. Though, if he couldn’t be truthful with you when you meant nothing to each other, he couldn’t expect himself to be truthful when you let him back in. If you let him back in. 

“How can I help?” You asked, reaching behind you to set your mug on the side table, leaning toward him with your brows raised curiously. You were close enough to him that he could describe the notes of your perfume, he’d mourned once the scent wore off of his apartment, missing the smell of you on his pillows. 

The smell of you drew him in, but he held himself back. Putting up an invisible barrier between the two of you before he did something he couldn’t take back. “It’s good to see you,” he answered, knowing he could be complaisant with coffee and your company. 

Parting your lips, you looked like you wanted to say something, but eventually held yourself back, falling back against the cushions and watching him curiously. “It’s good to see you too,” you said politely. “It’s been… it’s been a long time.” 

He couldn’t help but notice the way your sentence faltered when you spoke, knowing you were partly at fault for how much time had passed. When the two of you split, you’d cut off contact with everyone you’d met through Spencer. Ignoring invitations you’d received through the years until they inevitably fizzled out. It was why he didn’t want to accept your offer for help, he’d taken advantage of that too many times while you’d been together, letting everything take priority over you until you couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t think I ever made the time to tell you how sorry I am,” he told you, tilting his head to the side. “About everything that happened between us, I mean.” 

You were the first one to make contact, reaching your hand out to take his, your fingers lightly clinging onto his while you looked up at him with an unnameable expression. “That was a long time ago,” you reminded him, squeezing his hand comfortingly. 

His hand felt so cold in yours, finding solace in your warmth, he turned his hand over, clasping your hands together while he placed his mug on a coaster on the coffee table. “How have you been?” He said, asking you before you had the chance to ask him. 

Shrugging slightly, you slowly pulled back from him, dragging your fingers across his legs while averting your eyes, and he thought you were preparing to break his heart without even trying. “I moved,” you answered, gesturing to the house that surrounded you, in the neighborhood that you’d always dreamed of. 

There was something else, though. Something deeper. A detail of your life that he wasn’t yet privy to, but he could be, if you let him in. “This house suits you,” he told you, peacefully observing the space that just seemed so you. Each piece was carefully selected, down to the very last detail. 

“Thanks,” you mused, reaching behind yourself to take a sip of your coffee. 

The air between you wavered between calm and unsure, his phone buzzing in his pocket while he tried to figure out his next steps. Analyzing his options until one inevitably led him to what he wanted—you. “So,” he said nervously, “Are you seeing anyone?” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, as if you were trying to destroy a smile before it fully bloomed. “Not really,” you told him, tipping your head to the side and resting your cheek on your couch cushion. 

Spencer’s brows raised in inquiry, “Meaning?” 

You shrugged, “There have been dates, but there haven’t really been boyfriends.” Fiddling with the seam of your jeans while you avoided eye contact. “I just wanna ask - before I do something stupid - why did you come here tonight?” 

Humming curiously, he tried to get you to meet his gaze, “I came to see you.” 

“You mean to tell me that you changed your whole life around, leaving a job that you’ve had for fifteen years, and your first thought was that you had to go find your ex-girlfriend?” Your tone was incredulous, laughing humorlessly while you looked around the apartment, wondering if you were being pranked. 

His chest tightened when he answered, “No.”

You flinched at his answer as if he’d physically lunged at you. “Then why?” You asked, your voice softening with fear. 

“I spent five years thinking about the day I would see you again. I used to lie awake wondering if there was someone else, someone who could give you more than I could, but I never stopped thinking about you.” He told you, watching your facial expressions as you battled an onslaught of emotions. “Changing my job wasn’t about coming back to you, but not a day went by where I didn’t think about what it would mean.”

Blinking rapidly, you shifted uncomfortably on the couch, “You didn’t leave the BAU for me?”

He paused, knowing this could go either way, a fork in the path to happiness or banishment. “No,” he answered honestly. 

“Good,” you replied. 

“But,” he added, “You were the first person I thought of when I handed over the papers.” 

Nodding, you leaned forward again, so close to him that he could make out the exact intricacies of your irises. He took you in, appreciating every trait you had because he knew it might be the last time he ever got to see them, but then you spoke, “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright.” 

Your politeness caught him off guard, collecting himself enough to bob his head before you craned your neck forward, pressing your mouth on his. He was starstruck for a moment, the celebrity of his memories climbing over him while you masterfully eased his mouth open. Once he gathered himself, his hands found their way to your hips, helping you get from one side of the couch to the other by hooking his thumbs in your belt loops. 

Prying yourself off of him, you leaned back slightly, and he tried not to whimper at the feeling of you sitting in his lap, perched so perfectly where you belonged. “Thank you for coming back to me,” you whispered, dropping your head to rest it on his shoulder, hiding away what he could’ve sworn were tears in your eyes. 

“I don’t think anything could’ve stopped me,” he told you, squeezing your hips reassuringly, knowing now that he had you back in his arms, he’d never let you go again. Humming while you started littering light kisses up the column of his throat, a thought floated to the surface of his mind, “I hope you know I didn’t come here for this.” 

You pulled your head up again, smiling impishly and raking a hand through his hair, “Didn’t you?” 

He supposed you had him there, “Not just this then, more than this.” 

Your smile softened into something sweeter then, a gentle realization of two people who finally found what they’d been waiting for. “You can have it all, Spence,” you whispered, kissing him again, but this time he kissed you back with the same fervor. 

One of his hands slipped from your hip to your core, the heel of his palm digging into the rough fabric of your jeans. His ears perked up at the sounds that came from your lips, breathy moans slipping from you while your hips tentatively ground against his hand. He found himself wishing his fingers were sliding between your folds, wanting more of you while being overwhelmed by the mere fact that you were here. This was really happening. “I missed you,” he mumbled against your lips, groaning when you tried to muffle yourself by nipping at his bottom lip. 

“I missed you so much,” you responded, pushing at his hand so you could rest yourself in his lap again, grinding your clothed core against his clothed cock. You chewed on your lower lip, “You’re so hard.”

He smiled, cheeks pink with embarrassment, “Well, I did say I missed you.” He leaned his head back, leaving his neck exposed for you to tend to, dragging your soft lips across his skin while one of his hands slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, dragging his fingertips over your goosebump riddled ribcage. Slowly—tantalizingly—he undid the button of your jeans, the sound of the zipper seeming impossibly loud while you both held your breath, not releasing it until Spencer pushed the flimsy fabric of your panties to the side and breached your hole with his finger. 

You gasped at the sensation, your body stiffening above him before relaxing at his touch. “Spence,” you sighed his name, rocking your hips slowly against his hand while he curled his digit, swiping the pad of his index finger over your gummy walls, searching for a spot that would make you see stars. “Shit,” you said, patting at the couch cushions while his ministrations continued. 

It took him a moment to realize that your phone had started ringing, and you looked at the caller ID before answering it with your tongue between your teeth.

“Hey,” you said, your voice apprehensive, eyes glancing down to meet Spencer’s while his finger curled in you again. “No, it’s fine,” you told whoever was on the other end of the call, your mouth tightening to form a circle when his finger pushed into you again, nodding to let him know this was okay. 

You looked up to the ceiling, unable to keep eye contact with Spencer while his finger was buried in your cunt. He considered adding another finger, but based on the way you were clenching the one, he decided against it. He didn’t want the person who called you to listen to you come, that was a privilege he’d keep to himself for the rest of his life. 

Furrowing your brow, you whimpered slightly at his movement, but skillfully covered it up by clearing your throat, “You know I actually don’t think I’m going to make it out tonight.” Your focus began to fade, “I know it’s late notice, but I think I’m coming down with something.” You sighed, “Yeah, sure, another time.” 

Unceremoniously, you hung up the phone and tossed it to the other end of the couch, groaning when Spencer finally added that second finger. “Was that the guy you got all dressed up for?” 

Nodding, your walls tightened around his fingers, “I was supposed to meet him at a bar.” 

“Would you rather be there?” He asked, testing the water, teasing you at the prospect of going on a date after coating his fingers with your slick. 

You shook your head quickly, “God, no. Fuck,” you cried, gasping for air when Spencer withdrew his fingers from you. The wet sound of your pussy filling the air while he placed his hands on your legs, softly nudging you until you were sliding off of the couch. “So close,” you said breathily. 

He knew. He’d known you were close based on the way your thighs trembled around him, but that’s not how he wanted you to come. Laying you out on the carpet, he tugged your jeans off, discarding them in a pile along with your underwear, he smiled at you when you responded by reaching out and pulling at his clothes. 

Feeling content, he let you undo the buttons of his shirt, sliding all remnants of fabric from his skin before he pulled your blouse over your head. His heart pounded as you eyed his cock, with you fully undressed, it was painfully hard, the tip glistening with precum. He was sure if he even thought of you too hard, he would burst at the seams. “Honey?” You whispered, your voice light as the pet name passed from your lips, and suddenly it was as if no time had passed at all. 

“Yes, angel?” He responded in kind, reaching out to cup your face, clammy with lust, but there was something else. Something deeper. 

You pressed your hand to your chest, pushing down like you were trying to hold yourself together, “I love you.” 

Spencer nodded, taking your hand in his while he guided you down, your back against the floor, he intertwined your fingers, helping you to spread your legs so he could position himself at your core, his tip teasing your clit just so he could make you whine again. “I love you too,” he responded, sliding his cock into your wet heat and gasping at the tightness. Even after working you over with his fingers, you still squeezed his length so hard his vision blurred at the edges. You’d be the death of him, and it would be well worth it. 

A high-pitched moan came from your lips and he pushed himself up on his arms, making sure you were okay before he even dared to move. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, your pupils blown with lust while you moved your hands, looking for something to stabilize you, finally ending with your hands on his shoulders, moaning when he gave a tentative thrust, sheathing himself inside of you. 

It was something that felt so right. There was something so poetic about two people finding each other again, a perfect fit. He withdrew again, looking down to see his cock coated in your slick, glistening as he slid back in. His eyes went back to you, watching for any sign of hesitation, but all he saw was you, his girl. “You’re so pretty,” he said, finding a rhythm while you instinctively lifted your legs, the two of you falling into a familiar pattern. 

Following you, he hooked his arms under your legs, spreading you open so he could nestle himself even deeper in you. “Spence,” you choked. 

“I know, baby,” he responded breathlessly, “I know.” His hips thrusting steadily, his ears ringing as his orgasm hurtled toward him. He reveled in the noises you were making, knowing he never needed to spend another night wondering if he’d ever have you again. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he could feel the crescent moons forming on his skin while he noticed the telltale signs of your own impending orgasm. “Right there,” you whined. “Oh, God.”

His hips stuttered, wavering somewhere between pleasure and control, “Fuck,” he said, “Where do you want me?” 

“Inside,” you answered immediately, tipping your head back as you finally lost yourself, coming loudly around his cock. 

The pulsing of your climax was the end of him, dropping his head into the sticky crook of your neck, matching your moans as he filled your cunt with cum, weakly pumping into you until he was spent. He hummed against your bare skin while the aftershocks of your orgasm squeezed his half-hard length, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder while you both caught your breath. He dropped your legs, feeling you wince at the stretch of your hips. 

You groaned lightly, trying to do something with your leg that he couldn’t quite figure out. 

He shushed your whines, “What are you doing?” 

“‘M trying to get the blanket off of the ottoman without giving my neighbors a peep show,” you answered, the words barely getting past your lips when you spoke,

Shifting himself, he kissed you softly while he pulled out, kneeling in front of you so he could reach the blanket you wanted, tossing it over you before laying down next to you, smiling softly when you shuffled over to him, sharing the warmth of the knit blanket. 

Your eyes shone in the dim light of your house, “You’re pretty.” 

He laughed lightly at your observation, craning his head to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, “You’re gorgeous.”

The amused look on your face slowly faded, and the look in your eyes changed to concern.

Spencer took a deep breath, “What’s wrong, angel girl?” He asked softly, tenderly dragging a knuckle down the side of your face while massaging your hip with his other hand. 

“You have a scar on your leg,” you whispered nervously. “And on your hand,” you added. “They looked bad. Is it… are you okay?” 

He knew it would come. He knew you were far too smart to see the new marks on his body and simply move on, but he hadn’t yet figured out how he wanted to explain it all to you. There were five years of his life that you needed to catch up on, and he didn’t know how or where to begin. “I’m okay,” he confirmed, his chest aching at your concern. “We’ll talk, I promise,” he assured you. 

Nodding, you pressed a soft kiss to his temple, “Okay.”

And that was it, for a moment, the two of you laid in a peaceful silence together. You were tucked into his side, right where you belonged, and he was skimming his palm along your bare back. 

You groaned when a phone started buzzing again, but this time, it was Spencer’s. You’d been half asleep, lifting your head to glare at his phone where it buzzed in his pants pocket, pouting when he reached to grab it. Though, it seemed to surprise you when he didn’t answer it. He simply declined the call, and set the phone back down, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head before returning to your liminality. His phone buzzed again, and you lifted your head, “Do you have to leave?” You asked. 

It very nearly broke his heart to hear you ask, knowing there was once a time when he’d leave you like this, not knowing when you’d see each other again. “No,” he said, his voice dripping with promise. “It’s Garcia,” he told you. 

At the mention of Penelope’s name, you lifted your head, “Do you need to answer it?” 

He shook his head, “She’s asking how it’s going with you, she’s the one who gave me your address.” 

You seemed to consider this answer for a moment, “I’d say it’s going very well. Why don’t you answer her?” 

He chuckled at your answer, “Because she’ll want to talk to you and stay on the phone for hours, and I’m not quite done with you yet.”

[wheezyreads]

oh this was so perfectly sweet

[lonelysatellites]

Need your lips on mine

Steve Harrington x fem reader

Steve Harrington will hook up with you. So why won’t he kiss you?

This is something quick and silly I wrote in an attempt to drag myself out of the writing slump I’ve been in, so be warned that this is barely proofread. 2.1k

18+ minors dni: semi public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), a little bit of angst and insecurity, premature ejaculation whoops

Steve Harrington is a great kisser.

Everyone knows it’s true.

He’s been making girls swoon since the 10th grade.

Becky Lewinsky was the first. A game of spin the bottle in her parents basement, the damp, dark space crowded with twenty odd teenagers sat in a lopsided circle. As if by some divine magic, the bottle of Jack snuck from the liquor cabinet upstairs stopped pointing at the birthday girl. Becky crawled gleefully across the threadbare carpet and planted one on Steve in front of everyone.

She spoke about that moment near constantly for two weeks, all starry eyes and flushed cheeks.

That is until Steve Harrington had his second kiss.

A study session with Noelle Chambers cut short when the school librarian caught them making out in the Historical section.

Then it was Noelle’s turn to brag. About how soft Steve’s lips were, how he tasted like spearmint and strawberry chapstick, how butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach when his large hand cupped her jaw.

Then it was Laurie. Then Amy. Back to Becky. Followed by a seemingly never ending list of girls, each one with a story of how Steve Harrington blew their minds with just a few kisses.

Even Nancy Wheeler, always so prim and proper, turned giggly and foolish when Steve’s lips touched hers.

You wouldn’t know what it was like.

It’s not like you weren’t privy to his other talents.

As you all grew older the rumour mill turned more suggestive, then downright sordid.

Steve Harrington eats pussy like it’s his last meal.

Steve Harrington always makes sure his girl comes first.

Steve Harrington was packing, enough to have you walking awkwardly for hours when it was over.

Those things were all true. You could vouch for them.

But you didn’t know for sure that Steve Harrington was a good kisser. Because he would never kiss you.

In fairness, during your first encounter you hadn’t even noticed.

It had been a blur of hurried movements, bodies tumbling out the front door of some house party of some vague acquaintance. Quick footsteps crunching over gravel and the heat of Steve’s body pushed flush to your back as he wrenched open the back door to his beemer. Only the necessary clothes were removed, both of you too eager to bother undressing properly. Your jeans were tugged down to your ankles, sweater pushed up around your neck, and Steve Harrington sunk to his knees in the tiny awkward space behind the passenger seat.

You saw stars with your thighs wrapped around his head. Too drunk on bliss to even care that anyone else leaving the party would be able to instantly see the steam shrouded windows and the rocking of the otherwise stationary vehicle when he finally clambered over you and fit his body so perfectly with your own.

When it was over, Steve helped you tug denim back in place over your hips, chuckled softly as he wiped sweat from his brow.

Steve Harrington is a gentleman.

So it was no surprise that he drove you home. Even waited until the front door was closed behind you to pull away from the curb.

Only as the low rumble of the engine faded into the distance did you realise, he hadn’t kissed you once.

Despite his gentlemanly tendencies, you hadn’t expected Steve to call. In fact, you didn’t remember giving him your number, so the first time you heard the low timbre of his voice over the cracking phone line was a total surprise.

It was obvious what he was after. It wasn’t a date. But still, he was sweet with his suggestion, offering to pick you up for a ride back to his place. A dip in the pool in his backyard to wash away the cloying summer heat.

It was all too easy to accept.

Even easier to let Steve pull loose the ties that held your bikini in place, the soaked garment tossed carelessly onto tiles still warm from sun that had set hours before. Your head fell back, face to the stars as Steve pressed you firmly against the pools edge. You could still see the sparkling constellations with your eyes closed as he thrust in long, deep strokes, the cool turquoise water rippling as your bodies met.

When it was over Steve held you close to his chest. He panted against the shell of your ear, chest quivering beneath your exploring fingertips while he regained his composure. He’d placed a gentle kiss to your temple. You turned your head, hope blooming behind your ribs that you might be able to chase his lips with your own.

But he was up and out of the pool in seconds. Stepping into his trunks and collecting your swimwear.

It was hard not to feel disappointed. You pondered it that night as you lay alone in your bed, the space between your thighs still aching from the stretch.

Had you done something? Was there something in your teeth? Oh god, did your breath smell bad?

That must be it, right? What other reason could there be for Steve Harrington gifting you the most delicious orgasms you’d ever experienced, but still refusing something as simple as a kiss?

You wouldn’t let it happen again.

When Steve called the following week, and you coyly mentioned that your parents were out of town, you set to action as soon as you’d hung up the phone. Brushing and flossing until your gums were sore, swirling mouthwash three times just in case. As your doorbell rang, you applied one final swipe of blueberry gloss, pouting at yourself in the mirror. You looked thoroughly kissable. Steve would have no excuse this time.

Except he did. Not that he voiced it of course. But the usual routine ensued. Steve kissed your neck, sucked deep marks into your chest, mouth hungrily over your cunt. But when he was finally over you and in you, fucking you hard into your mattress, each time you tilted your head towards his and pouted he pulled away. It was subtle, the way he’d bury his face against your shoulder, pepper soft kisses over your collar bones. But by the time he left your gloss was still disappointingly unsmudged.

It hurt. You liked Steve. Not just for the way he made your body tremble with pleasure. In the moments before and after he was so sweet, so funny, a little hint of bitchiness in his humour that you adored. He took the time to ask about your interests. He told you about his own. He cared.

You’d had enough. Your heart and your mind couldn’t take much more of the mixed messages. You needed answers, but you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to simply ask for them. It was too humiliating, too needy. So you hatched a plan.

The drive to Steve’s house was short, which was lucky really. If you’d had too long to think you might have started to question if your plan was such a good idea. You might have talked yourself out of it, convinced yourself that Steve didn’t really like you, maybe he already had another girl over, taking your place in his bed.

But you had no time to ruminate on such thoughts, pulling onto the Harrington driveway just minutes after leaving your own. The BMW sat alone, the house dark save for the light in Steve’s bedroom. You took a deep breath as you knocked on the door.

A moment later you could hear footsteps in the hallway. The porch light flicked on, bathing you in warm amber light.

When Steve opens the door his mouth falls open in surprise. His white t-shirt is tight across his chest, grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips. As your eyes trail downwards Steve shuffles, adjusting the all too obvious tent in the fabric.

“H-hey. Uhh- hey.” He says, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hi.” You reply sweetly.

Was Steve Harrington blushing?

“I wasn’t - I wasn’t expecting you.” Steve says. He runs a broad palm over the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve called. Just wanted to see you.” You purr, giving him your best bedroom eyes.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh. You weren’t - I mean, you didn’t. I w-wasn’t up to anything.” Steve stammers. His cheeks are almost maroon.

“Really? You weren’t doing anything at all?”

You’re teasing him. And it’s wonderful to see his reaction. The way he audibly gulps, his blown pupils darting from your face to the floor and back again.

“Can I come in?” You ask softly.

“Sure! Of course.” Steve says, stepping aside to let you through.

Steve seems to have given himself a mental pep talk as you follow him up to his room. Once the door closes behind you he’s back to his usual confident self.

Clothes are shed much like always. Steve spends what feels like an eternity working you open with his fingers, pulling one orgasm from you as you writhe on his expensive cotton sheets. When he steps away from the bed, retrieving a condom from his dresser, you prepare yourself to put your plan into action. You watch with rapt attention as Steve rolls the latex over his length, thrusting into a loose fist as he leans back over you. His lips find that familiar spot just below your ear as your legs spread wider, giving him space to slot between them. When he pushes into you, bringing that familiar burn that you’ve come to crave, he raises his head. His eyes roll back, lids fluttering closed as a groan spills past his pretty lips.

It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.

Grabbing Steve’s cheeks you pull his face down to you, tilting your own up to meet him halfway. It’s a messy semblance of a kiss, lips clumsily crashing and teeth clinking painfully together.

Steve lets out a small surprised squeak, but you don’t allow yourself the time to question whether the sound is of pleasure or annoyance. You’re too busy swiping your tongue against Steve’s bottom lip. Realising that those old rumours still held some truth. Spearmint and strawberry chapstick.

Through the messy meeting of mouths Steve’s hips have begun to falter, losing a rhythm before he’s even had time to set it. When the tip of your tongue touches his, tentative and unsure, he makes a pained sound, a deep groan that vibrates from his chest. His hips stall, and you feel the warmth inside as he spills into the condom.

Steve Harrington has never been known as a two pump chump before.

You’re so shocked, for a moment your plan disappears entirely from your mind. Your lips leave Steve’s, a gasp escaping you. But you’ve unleashed something now, a wall that’s broken down, and this time it’s Steve that chases you. Whining desperately as he shakes from his orgasm, he kisses you deeper, his tongue thrusting past your lips to tangle with your own.

“Mmm. Steve -what-“ you try to question between his kisses.

“M’sorry.” He whimpers.

You don’t want to stop kissing him. After waiting all this time you’d quite happily let him continue to steal the breath from your lungs. But you need an explanation. Reluctantly, you pull lightly on Steve’s hair, tugging his face back.

“What the hell was that?” You whisper.

He’s blushing again, cheeks a furious red that spreads up to the tips of his ears and down his neck.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” He whines.

“Well then why haven’t you?”

“Didn’t think - I didn’t think you liked me like that. I thought you just wanted to mess around with me. And I thought if I kissed you, I’d get too attached. So I didn’t. But you - you just… fuck. I’m sorry, I’ve just been thinking about it for forever.”

Of all the possible reasons for Steve to avoid kissing you, this one never crossed your mind. But it was the best possible outcome. He’d been scared to kiss you because he liked you. He really liked you. So much so, that one simple kiss resulted in him coming within seconds.

Steve moves to pull out, humiliation clear as day on his face.

“No, don’t!” You say quickly. You use your hand in his hair to pull him back down to you.

This kiss is softer. Sweet and slow. You nip at Steve’s bottom lip, and feel the stirring between your thighs. He’s half hard again already.

Steve rocks his hips experimentally, hissing through his teeth at the sensitivity.

You grin against his lips.

“Think you’ve got some making up to do Stevie.”

“Yeah.” He sighs softly.

“I can do that.”

[wheezyreads]

i love this dork

[gaybybirth]

beautiful capture (stalker fic - dead dove)

Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (NSFW) - Bucky’s POV

Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0 // AO3

Synopsis: Bucky carries you downstairs to your new room that he’s been dying to show you. When you wake up, just like the new mattress you're on, he’ll break you in.

Warnings: stalker fic // dead dove, don't eat // explicit nsfw content - non-con & kidnapping with a dash of non-con somno; bondage, edging, nipple clamps, nipple stim, clit pump, clit stim, oral (reader receiving), vibrating underwear insert, vibrator, anal and vaginal fingering, butt plug, extreme overstimulation, repeated forced orgasms & extreme orgasm torture, mindbreaking, unprotected vaginal sex, unprotected anal sex, bucky cums in the reader, bucky spits on the reader, claiming; mentions of non-con video recording, peeping tom, and other various stalking-related stuff; implied established friendship (off-page)

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: From a prompt left on the kinktober form. I just took a little bit of a different spin on it. 

You’re so beautiful.

You’ve always been so beautiful, but like this–especially like this?

He’s careful with his touch. A drag of his fingers over the side of your face while you sleep so soundly. You’d wake soon, in time. Then you’d see. You’d know.

Bucky didn’t have to do anything; you were already in his place. All he did was bring you downstairs. Tucked you away neatly in his basement and draped you over the white blankets on your new bed. He put those pretty cuffs on your wrists to match the ones on your ankles. 

He won’t hurt you. He’d never hurt you.

But he does have to prepare.

Softly, rolling a small table over, he examines every single thing he has laid out for you. All of your favorite things. All meticulously picked. Better versions than what he’s already seen you use by yourself. He made sure he got the nicest versions. 

A slow pull down on your nightgown–his eyes glued to the steadiness of your breathing–bares your breasts he’s only seen through cameras. Pretty and soft, it almost kills him that your nipples are already hard peaks just waiting for him. Eager already. Begging for him in eerie slow breath that lifted them. 

He watches you when he feels you. He has to feel you. He’s been waiting all night. Just upstairs, feeling you fall against him when he made you laugh so hard you couldn’t sit upright. Needed him! Needed him then. You needed him now. Always needed him.

You’re so soft. So soft and so warm. It’s not fair. 

With a breast in his palm, your nipple brushes against his rough skin. Just a small touch. Barely there. Yet your breath hitches just a little, and he can’t help himself. Taking both in his hands, he gives your nipples the slightest pinch. You twitch, but you don’t stir. No, you stay sleeping safe and sound knowing Bucky’ll take care of you. 

He’ll always and forever take care of you.

Bucky reaches for the table and grabs the shiny new clamps.

He knows you’ll love this. He’s seen you writhe in yours. But just to be sure, they twist with a click of a lock around your taunt nipples. Only Bucky has the small key. And with a quick admiration of the chain dangling between the tight clamps, he tugs your dress back up to rewrap his present. He brushes his fingers over them where they poke through the thin material. The metal pushes through like a tease, and he can’t wait for you to experience it. He knows how sensitive your nipples get; this will just amplify it. 

And speaking of….

He’s seen your cunt through your window, through the hidden cameras, in his shower when you spilled wine on yourself just a few weeks ago. Seen your fingers stuffed inside of yourself. Seen someone else inside of you. Toys. Vibrators on your pretty clit. He’s seen you, but never so close. Never this close. 

So, he folds your nightgown up and sighs at the pretty white underwear you already have on. One try, and he knows where your clit is. He’s had it memorized since the second he first saw you naked. He presses his fingertip right to it through that thin cotton, rubbing slow circles over it just how you like. Over and over, just imperfect circles over your perfect cunt. And–oh, perfect! Your thighs part more just asking him–telling him–to keep going. To go ahead and fuck you already, but it’s not right. No. Not yet.

Gradually, he pulls that pretty white cotton down your legs, and–oh–there’s already a string of wetness. For him. You’re glistening wet and so pretty, practically begging him to keep playing with you. He will. He has to. But he won’t fuck you until you’re awake. 

Instead, he parts you and just smiles at how pretty you are. So pretty and so wet, and your clit is already swollen for him. It wants his fingers again. Wants him to make you cum. Your cunt twitches, begging for more, and what else can Bucky do but abide?

He pulls the hood back on your clit and lazily brushes his thumb over it once, twice, three times. Watching how you twitch and shift. But you only just shift; with every direct touch, you still sleep. 

He reaches for that table again. He needs it. Knows exactly what it’ll do to you, and he needs it. He picks up the small pump, the perfect size for your perfect clit, and brings it back to you. With precision, he places it over your bared clit and gives it one…and a half pumps. Oh. He smiles as your clit swells into it and you start to shake. 

“Shhh,” he soothes. He rubs your stomach. “Shhhhh.”

One finger presses into you so gingerly, it makes his eyes flutter shut. Hot and wet, so fucking fantastic, Bucky’s cock twitches.

 “Shhhh,” he breathes again, soothing you still while your thighs begin to quiver.  

He looks for it eagerly. Searches before he falls too far into just enjoying you. He needs to know where it is before you wake up so he can prove to you how good he is for you. The best. He’s the best. 

With a curl of his finger….

Your hips lift.

“There you are,” Bucky murmurs, dragging his eyes over you. Found it. That sweet sensitive spot. He pumps his fingers into you languidly, hitting that same spot repeatedly, working you open with that one finger until you can take a second. Until you’re starting to gush all sweetly for him, and he feels it. He watches it. Your orgasm starts to build. “Stay there, doll. Hang onto that for me.” 

With a squelch, his fingers leave where he aches for them to stay, but he needs to work another part of you to ready for him later. Lower. Oh. Lower where he didn’t even need lube. You’d soaked his finger so well and dripped down to the bed, so with a little rub around your asshole, one push was all that was needed before you practically sucked his finger in. 

Tight. So tight that when he feels his cock throb, he fears he might cum. But he doesn’t. He just watches in endless anticipation while you squirm. You’re on the verge of sleep and consciousness while he works your asshole open for him, and you stay there on that verge.

One finger.

Two.

He takes lube from the table. With a careful drizzle, he gets three fingers in with a push that tightens his balls.

“There you go, doll. You’ll take this easily now.” He’ll never hurt you. Never. And he takes his time scissoring his fingers to stretch you with ease before pulling them out. He takes his time lubing up the sizable plug sitting out on that table; the silver metal matches his arm and the glint makes him shudder even before he pushes the tip against you. “That’s it. That’s it.”

More. More. More. 

You take it. He tries to go slow, watching you stretch around it, but you take it with so much ease and clear eagerness, he almost laughs. Not cruelly, no. He’d never. But he’s just proud. He already knew you could–he’s already seen you plunge a toy into your ass countless times, so you can handle the plug. 

And you do. You handle it so well. 

Bucky rubs the plug back and forth, in and out, fucking you on it just a little.

But he has restraint. He has to have restraint. There’s more that needs to be done.

He takes the pump off of your clit, and he slides a fun insert into your underwear. The battery is freshly charged, and if he positions it right…. Yes. He gets your underwear back on, recuffs your ankles, and presses the phallic, silicone insert right into your cunt. It curves against your g-spot and the outer ridges press firmly against your poor clit.

With the remote in hand and a simple tuck of your dress back down, Bucky sinks into the chair he has beside the bed. 

He waits.

His leg bouncing, his arm whirring too loudly, his cock throbbing–he waits.

He waits for your body to catch up with itself, and you start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, and your brows pinch at the same time you move. Well, try to move. 

It comes all at once. Registering that you’re not in his living room anymore. That you’re in a nightgown you’d changed into just before saying goodnight and heading to bed. But you sat with him all on your own! You detoured and sat with him and laughed and drank and fell asleep on his lap! 

The cuffs. The bed. Panic sets in as you feel it. Feel everything, and your eyes drop over yourself. You haven’t looked at him yet, but he won’t hold it against you. You see your nipples first, and he knows how sensitive they are, so of course you’ll go there first. Then lower, where your feet pull at the cuffs. Where your hips lift and your eyes widen in panicked confusion–

He presses two buttons on the remote.

One turns the underwear insert on.

The other dials it up to the second of three strengths. 

When it comes to life, the sound you make is heavenly. It’s for him. The toy inside of you teasing you g-spot. The outside portion rubbing over your pumped clit. Your moan snaps out of you like a whip, and the rest of you follows. Pulling on the cuffs, it happens when you don’t even mean for it to. Your back arches and your hips lift like you’re trying to hump the toy. The top of your nightgown goes askew, almost baring your chest to him, and your head pushes back.

“No. No, wait–”

Can’t.

Bucky tilts his head and winces. 

Sorry.

He so badly wants his cock to be in you for your first orgasm with him, but this is better. You need to know how good he’ll make you feel. It’ll be this. It’ll always be this. It’ll be your head thrown back against your new bed as your entire body tenses and writhes in that ravishing pleasure. As your hips jerk up and stay up while your eyes slam shut and tears spill.

And, so beautifully, you cum.

Shaking.

Humping nothing.

Kicking out at the overwhelming pleasure that he knows you can handle at your peak and after. 

Your eyes disappear in a roll, and you scream in that one extra second of too much against your pretty clit.

He turns the toy off with one click of a button, and you collapse. Panting. Hardly able to move more than to right yourself back into some semblance of a position to look at him. Eyes heavy as you’re already so fucked out. One orgasm, and look at you. 

“James,” you mutter, eyes so concerned.

But he just reaches forward and cups your cheek. Oh. A tear. He brushes that away, too.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m going to take care of you. I promise.” Another tear. He brushes that one away, too. Then the next. “I’ve seen what you watch, what you like, what you do with yourself. I know what you like.” He slides his hand down to find the chain between the clamps and sneaks it out from under your nightgown. One pull and you’re pushing your shoulders back and moaning. “I know how to please you.”

The fear’s there, and it lingers when he lifts the remote again. But it’ll fade. 

Bucky gives you a wry, pitying smile, and it comes to you quickly.

He presses the button to turn the insert back on, and just sits back as you lurch. Writhing and whining. Moaning, lifting your hips, begging. It’s too much. You keep saying that, but he just purses his lips and waves at you as your whole body seizes.

“But you came again.”

And again.

Tears streak your cheeks, and he lowers the strength. You still cum.

He turns it back up, and you scream again. Thrash again. Sob again.

And you still cum again.

You cum until he knows you have about one more left in you, and that’s his turn.

The insert clicks off, and he uncuffs one ankle. You don’t react. Panting, sweaty, and sitting ruined in your own cum, he just pushes your nightgown up and pulls your underwear down. Pulling that insert out with a squelch. Your gasp is quiet. You barely stutter his name as he slides between your legs, draping one around his arm. 

Your thighs are still quivering when he undoes his belt.

“One more,” he breathes. “You can give me one more. I know you have it in you. We’ll do it together.”

You don’t even react when he takes his cock out. He might’ve found offense to it, but your cunts dripping and you’re so fucked out, he can’t entirely hold it against you. It’s okay. Tomorrow, he’ll edge you for hours until you’re so drunk on desperation, you’ll be begging for him to fuck you. And that’ll be the only way you cum again. His cock inside of you, in one hole or another, then you can cum, and only then.

With teary-eyed anticipation, Bucky doesn’t wait. He aligns himself with you and pushes in just slow enough to savor every twitching, warm, dripping bit of your cunt that takes him down to the hilt with eagerness. Begging for him. It wraps his cock up like you’re made for him. And your back arches off the bed and–he glances back–your toes curl.

Good.

His eyes are already heavy. 

He doesn’t use anything but his cock and his thumb. He feels the plug nudging inside of you as he draws back, seeing how his cock glistens from you. And with a satisfied sigh–he finally gets you, finally gets to feel you–he slowly pushes back in. All the way. Balls deep. 

You’re perfect.

He strokes your poor, swollen, ravished clit with his thumb.

At the first clench around his cock, he reels back and gives you a soft smile.

“We’ll cum together.”

And when he sees you twitch, he ruts into you. Hard.

The thrusts are slow and deliberate, and still the bed shakes. Bucky keeps himself together through sheer force of will. You’re so overstimulated, he has to work you back up. Rubbing your clit until you’re shuddering involuntarily. Angling himself just right to make his cock hit where the insert already tormented your g-spot. Going at just the right speed to make your body start to go limp before he feels your climax come rushing in.

There it is. He smiles through every grunt and groan coming his way.

“There it is, doll. Last one. Come on, now. Give it to me. Every last drop.” 

He can see it. The eruption already. You’re done. You’re his. There’s no fighting it–you don’t try. You reach out for it. You claw for it. You beg in whines and gasps and tensing muscles for it. 

You fall hard into the orgasm, sobbing as it slams into so hard it must hurt. Shaking uncontrollably, you gush and clamp around his cock. Sucking him back in when he starts to pull out, and that’s it for him. All the time watching you, he’s following you right over the edge.

He’s pulled back in, and he cums.

Deep.

Shaking.

Groaning your name like the mantra it is.

He spills inside of you, fucking it as deep as it’ll go.

All until you’re done. Worn out and panting. That shaking seeming to go nowhere. And he stills, leaving himself inside of you to claim you as his. To mold you to him.

He lowers your leg and takes you by your hips. Barely, you’re able to keep your eyes open. Barely, you still acknowledge him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers. “This? You’ll only ever feel this good with me.” He grips your hips harder, and you gasp. “You’re mine. Okay?”

You cock one brow, barely coherently, and yet nod.

“Okay,” you murmur, still nodding.

And Bucky, smiling, lays down on top of you, cock still nestled inside of you.

You are his. Forever. And you know it. You’ll always know it. 

And he’ll do everything to remind you of it in case you forget. 

Extra:

You really are gorgeous like this. Kicking and pulling on the cuffs, the glint of the chain between your new daily clamps pulling your nipples up to the hook on your headboard. Your breasts spill out of your askew nightgown, moving with every stuttering breath that wracks you. And Bucky just smiles against your cunt and keeps licking.

The start of the next hour ticks past on a clock he set up next to your bed. Two fingers push into your cunt slowly and find the spot he already has memorized. You react so perfectly–pulling those cuffs hard into your skin as you seethe and shudder and sob. A rub of his fingers against your g-spot. A slow drag of his tongue over the clit he pumped at the start. Perfectly sensitive for even the slightest flick of his tongue. 

“Please,” you breathe. “James, please.”

Already you’re begging for him. See? As he did every single time you begged for him the last few days, broken by…what number were you at now? 99 edges? He smiles and obliges. He leaves the chain where it’s hooked, strips himself, and slides his cock so slowly into your cunt once, twice, three, four, five times to feel how you pulse around him.

His.

All his.

He still has to make that claim.

And you already know. You lift your hips even before he reaches down and pulls the plug from your pretty asshole. Smiling at how you twitch for him already. Sighing at how easily you take him there with just a drizzle of lube and your own desperation to cum.

His. You’re his.

He makes sure to record it, every deep, milking thrust breaking you into a blubbering, begging mess. For him. Moaning, writhing, staring up needily at him. Dependent on him. If you want to cum, you need him. Otherwise?

He snaps his hips and rams in deep. Fucks you hard and rough, how you both like it. Exactly how it makes you throw your head back and scream, still begging for him, your entire body shuddering while your cunt unfortunately stays empty.

That’s it. 

A groan falls from Bucky as you clench hard around him. It’s hard to last in your ass like that, but he’s getting better about hanging on longer. Still, he spills inside of you, fucking himself through it and drilling you into the bed. One touch is all it takes, and it’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. He’d like to leave you wanting sometimes, but hearing you beg for him is just too good. Like you know he’ll fall apart at the sound of his name in that broken, desperate voice.

He presses in on that last thrust, and pins you to the bed. And with the touch of one thin vibrator right to your clit, the lowest setting making it whir, you’re done. You cum. A blinding, jerky orgasm that almost pulls the clamps off of your nipples when you thrash about. Gushing–aw. Bucky smiles. You gush for him. All over his cock and dribbling down onto the freshly washed sheets. 

He leaves the toy on as you spasm. As tears paint your cheeks and you arch so beautifully off the bed. Until your mouth is open again and that spasming becomes a writhing. He could push you again. He likes pushing you. You like it when your limits are pushed. You fall apart so easily every single time he edges you and your pretty cunt. But he lifts the toy and basks in how you rhythmically clench around him. 

He has another in him, and he waits.

Waits until you go limp and you’re panting, thinking you’ll get to catch your breath. Finally climaxing. Finally relieved. 

But he reaches back and uncuffs one ankle, and you know. You’re shaking and opening that leg for him even before he hooks it around his arm. Before he pins it back so he can really spread you and see his cock push inside that tight asshole.

He smiles up at you while he reaches back and grabs the tape. A dark black x is made over your lower belly with the vibrator underneath. The tip presses into where he pulls the hood back on your clit.

Shivering, you look up at him a little pathetically, but you’ll love it. He knows so, so, so well that you will. He’s seen how many videos you’ve watched of the very same thing. He’s just showing you exactly what it’s like.

With the press of a button, the vibrator turns back on, and you scream as he fucks you into two back-to-back orgasms. And he leaves it on until he’s climaxing again, undoing your other ankle cuff and pinning both legs back. A drop of spit goes down to your cunt while the last of his cum spills into you. So he can claim both holes. Even when your messy cunt gushes with another sobbing, body-shaking orgasm.

You’re his.

He smears his spit into your cunt, sliding his fingers up to pinch your clit as the vibrator still assaults it.

His.

See how well he takes care of you?

Your shriek cuts short as you cum again.

Nobody else will make you cum like that. Nobody.

He sighs, his cock softening inside of you. 

So beautiful and his. 

Forever.

[bowlvers]

giyuu and his VERY intimidating wife

you had been pacing for the past five minutes.

giyuu hadn’t said a word.

he was sitting at the table, perfectly straight, hands folded neatly in his lap like a student in detention.

“i swear,” you started, spinning around to face him, “every single time I tell you to be careful, what do you do? you nearly get yourself killed!”

he blinked, “..i didn’t.”

“yet!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “do you think that makes it better?!”

he went silent again, eyes lowering to the floor. his shoulders slumped slightly, the tiniest bit — that was how you knew he felt bad.

“don’t you ‘quiet guilt’ your way out of this,” you warned, pointing at him. “that sad little face isn’t going to save you this time.”

he looked up, startled. “i wasn’t—”

“you were. you do it every time. i start yelling, you look like I just kicked your dog, and then I feel bad and let you off easy.”

he blinked again, looking faintly wounded. “…you wouldn’t kick a dog.”

“that’s not the—!” you groaned and dragged your hand down your face. “that’s so not the point, giyuu.”

you took a breath, trying to calm down. he just sat there, watching you like a cat who’d accidentally knocked over a vase.

finally, you crossed your arms and said, “you are so lucky I love you.”

his eyes flicked up, soft but hesitant. “…does that mean you forgive me?”

“no!” you said immediately. “no means i love you in spite of your utter lack of self-preservation!”

he nodded, solemnly. “i see.”

“you clearly don’t,” you muttered, grabbing the medicine box from the shelf. “because if you did, you wouldn’t come home looking like you just rolled through a battlefield. oh wait— you did.”

he murmured, almost under his breath, “it wasn’t that bad.”

you whipped your head toward him. “what did you just say?”

he froze, like he’d just realized his mistake. “…nothing.”

“mhm.” you crouched in front of him, cleaning the cut on his arm a little rougher than usual. “you stress me out, you know that?”

he winced but didn’t complain. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

“i am.”

“you always are.”

he paused. “…you’re still angry.”

“you think?”

he looked like he wanted to say something else, then stopped, lips pressing together. after a long beat, he murmured “i’m sorry” again.

you just stared at him. then sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you know what? sit. just— sit there. quietly. don’t move.”

he nodded obediently. “okay.”

“—actually, go fold the laundry.”

“yes ma’am.”

[juicykvnture]

ILY2

ex!Jason Todd x fem!reader

tags: AFAB reader, angsty(ish) he’s just a little bitchy, brief oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, pussy slapping, biting, PiV, he’s jealous and down bad and pathetic, and uh.. very questionable behaviour

a/n: he’s just my deadbeat bf who’s currently on timeout, okay?

wc: 2.7k | masterlist

“Did you have fun?” Jason watches you stumble over your heels through the door, manspreading on the couch as he lazily sips his beer.

That insincere lilt in his voice makes you tense up.

Always has, probably always will.

You’ve gotten to the point where you’re doomscrolling tinder to find dates just so you can avoid him. He thinks is sweet, really.

Okay, maybe you were dumb for thinking you could sneak back into the house without Jason noticing. You know the bastard never fucking sleeps.

He’s like a roach. You can shout and bawl and demand him to leave the apartment but he won’t. His name is on the lease too, don’t you remember?

How dare you have a problem with the fact he regularly blasts porn full volume on the flatscreen TV or dishes in the sink - it’s his damn apartment too.

Jason could move out, easily. You figure this is his sick idea of fun.

Oh, and another thing? Zero respect for any kind of boundary at this point. He’ll fully walk in while you’re getting dressed or in the shower and condescendingly sneer that you’re overreacting - it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Perhaps if Jason were well adjusted, your whole situation wouldn’t be so bad.

But - he just isn’t.

“I did, not like it’s your problem.” You mumble under your breath, bending down to fumble with the straps of your heels. Your shoulders tense when you hear him whistle from the couch.

An obvious lie on your behalf but you dig your heels in. You’re not about to embarrass yourself.

“What?” He hums into his beer, unable to hide his amusement at your glare “tense cause you’re not getting fucked on the first date?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

That just makes Jason shrug, letting out a yawn as he manspreads on the couch just a little further, tilting his head back to glance at you.

“It’s not a discussion, though. I’m pointing out a fact.”

You’re tempted to absolutely thundercunt your stiletto at his face right now, but the freak would probably like it.

“You think I’m that easy on a first date?” You scowl, irritation starting to increase tenfold.

It just has a small smirk stretching across his lips, he likes it when you’re mad. You get all huffy and puffy about everything, it’s probably his favourite thing in the world.

Well, probably second favourite - the first being the way your mascara rolls down your cheeks when he pretty much pounds your attitude out of you.

“Dunno,” he shrugs,

“You were pretty easy for me.”

“You’re a fucking dog, Jason.” You mumble under your breath, bent over as you undo the straps on your heels.

Jason doesn’t really care for your words, lazily tilting his head up to get a good eyeful of your ass.

“Woof.”

You don’t have the energy to reply to that, he’s just trying to get a fucking rise out of you and you both know it.

“Bills in your name, asshole.” You murmur, scooping up a pile of envelopes and unceremoniously tossing them onto the cluttered coffee table in front of him.

Jason doesn’t react, too busy staring at your thighs.

It’s been a while since he’s had his face between them. It’s a problem, he thinks.

“You look like a skank.” He points out lazily, clicking his tongue “It’s hot.”

Your brows pinch together, lips pressed into a shaky line. Your day was bad enough. You’d rather crawl in a hole and die than admit there was no date. You know he’d just sneer at you if he ever found out you got stood up.

“Thanks for your input,” you clear your throat, trying to hide the slight tremble in your voice.

“I’m going to bed.”

Unfortunately for you, Jason knows you better than either of you would like to admit.

“You’re not,” he sighs, gently catching your wrist before you can avoid him for the rest of your night.

“Sit down, I won’t bite you.”

He isn't being an asshole for once, it’s probably a trap.

Still, against your better judgment you find yourself perched on the couch at an awkward angle, trying to lean as far away from him as you can.

“You look pissed.” Jason points out, his tone lacking jest for the first time in what feels like forever “how’d your date go?”

You really want to cling onto what’s left of your pride. You know it’s only gonna bite you in the ass if you tell him what actually happened.

But you’ve had one too many margaritas and feel like you might sob at any moment.

“He stood me up.”

You’re tempted to curl up into a little ball the second that sentence leaves your mouth, already preparing yourself for the onslaught of Jason’s laughter.

Strangely, you’re met with silence, save for the sound of him taking a sip of his beer until he finally speaks.

“Idiot.”

You swallow, shifting in your seat as you stare down at he carpet.

“The guy, not you.” He clarifies after a moment, lazily crossing his arms over his chest.

“If it’s any consolation, you look nice.”

That has you glancing up at him like you’re waiting for the inevitable punchline to follow.

Strangely, it doesn’t come.

“..thanks Jay,”

“Jason.” You’re quick to collect yourself, shifting uncomfortably on the far side of the couch as you reach for a pillow.

“And the date from last week?” He knows he’s treading on thin ice, but he can’t help asking.

“He bailed on me too, I’m cursed or something.”

You regret opening your mouth the second you admit that, pressing your nails into your knee.

“Unlucky.” He counters, holding out a bottle of beer like it’s some kind of peace offering.

“..you’re not being an asshole about it.”

Jason shrugs, tilting his head to the side.

“I know.”

You hate how the slight nostalgia clouds your judgment.

Sure, your relationship with Jason ended badly, you fought often.

But he never made you feel like an idiot. He never left you stranded, not literally at least.

For a while, you were the only thing that kept him going.

He’d be so late sometimes, it was ridiculous. Even half dead with cuts and bruises all over him he’d still make it. Every single time.

Sometimes the restaurant would be closing and you’d end up on this very couch with some cheap takeout.

But he always made it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” You admit, your pride disappearing with each sip of beer you take.

“Nothing. They’re just assholes trying to waste your time.”

The silence that follows is loud, it’s weird how rational he can be sometimes.

“Your makeup smudged.” He points out, reaching his hand out to wipe a clump of mascara from under your eye.

“Got caught in the rain.”

It’s bullshit, you know it is.

Jason doesn’t call you out directly, he doesn’t see the point.

“Don’t cry over assholes on tinder, it’s not worth it.”

Cry over me is what he’d rather say, but he bites his tongue. It would be a dick move to say something like that, even by his standards.

Doesn’t mean he can’t think it.

You and Jason never really figured out how to make it work. You need him like you need a broken leg and he needs you like he needs a crowbar to the face.

Every time you convince yourself it won’t happen again, the two of you end up back at square one.

You were already on edge by the time you got home, your goals unfulfilled. Part of you hoped your date would turn into a blur of a one-night stand so you wouldn’t have to think about Jason.

“I’m not doing this again.”

“You said that last time.” Jason’s gaze on you is heavy as he sets his beer bottle down, his cold hand sliding up your thigh as he lowers himself down to kneel between them.

“I mean it, Jay.”

He doesn’t miss that slip-up with the nickname, it’s the second time tonight.

You haven’t even corrected yourself this time.

“I’m sure you do.”

It’s almost not like Jason to talk to you so gently, you can’t remember the last time he did.

But here he is, fingers pressing into your legs until you rest them over his shoulders, your dress bunched up around your hips.

“Y’got all dressed up and everything, hm?” Jason murmurs under his breath, lightly running his fingers over the silky material of your underwear, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh.

You swallow, lips pulled into a thin line as you look down at him.

You don’t have to answer, he’ll probably laugh and call you easy again.

“Silent treatment again?” Jason blinks, snapping the elastic of your panties against your hip, “rude.”

What’s rude is how he’s running his fingers up and down your clothed slit, not daring to go under the fabric.

What’s rude is how he’s biting at your thighs just to hear your breath hitch.

Whats rude is how he’s still manages to get under your skin.

Jason’s faint kisses to your clothed cunt have your legs twitching in anticipation, your hand reaching down to try yank him by the hair to no avail.

He can’t help a small scoff, snapping the elastic against your skin again.

“Ain’t doing nothin’ until you talk to me.”

“F-fine,” you squirm, the wet patch in your panties getting a little too uncomfortable.

“M’sorry,”

“There we go,” Jason’s teeth graze your thigh again, hooking his fingers into the skimpy fabric to pull it down your legs.

“Wasn’t that fuckin’ hard, was it?”

What’s hard is his dick - to the point it’s almost painful as he ruts his hips against the couch, his rough hands keeping your shaky thighs thrown over his shoulders.

He can hold off for a while, though.

He’s too distracted with how you whine and try yanking him closer as if he isn’t already lapping at your cunt.

“pussy’s still fuckin’ pretty as ever,” he pants, barely pulling back to breathe as his fingers come down against your clit in a small smack, your hips stuttering into his face.

“Bet she’s fuckin’ missed me, huh?”

He’s talking to her not you - still trying to convince himself you’re just an easy lay and he doesn’t care.

The lines start blurring, and so does the world around you.

You’re barely able to keep your legs open with how shaky they are, Jason’s fingers digging into your thighs being the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

He’s always been selfish when he eats you out, not giving you a second to breathe before his tongue is on your poor cunt again, your choked out sobs and shaky tugs at his hair only making him go harder.

“The fuck you think you’re runnin’ from?” He pants out, lifting his head after what feels like an eternity, all the pretty makeup you did now streaming down your cheeks.

He’s on top of you now, cock flushed and leaking as he pushes your thighs open, both of your knees unceremoniously swung over his shoulders.

“You go on these stupid fuckin’ dates to try catch a dick and now you can’t even take one?” Jason hisses under his breath, giving your already overstimulated cunt another little slap just to keep your attention.

“Wasn’t trying- f-fuck-!”

“No? You’re telling me it’s the conversational skills you go for?” You like the chatty type now?”

If you were into the chatty type, you wouldn’t have gone for Jason in the first place.

“Or maybe it’s anyone but me you’re into,” His blunt nails dig into your hips, lazily pushing his hips forward to *almost* meet yours, just shy of filling your cunt completely.

“Jay, c’mon,”

You hate how whiny you sound. You hate that he’s managed to set you off so easily as you try fucking yourself onto his cock, strong hands keeping your writhing body caged against the couch.

“Jay, huh?” He scoffs, biting down on his lip as he tries to stand his ground and not thrust into you then and there.

“I’m still your Jay, then? Thought y’said you’re over me.”

“S-shut up, m’over you,” you insist, unable to hide how your hips stutter under him every time he looks down at you.

“Maybe you are.” He mumbles, leaning down for a moment like he’s about to kiss you.

“But your pussy still ain’t.”

How could it ever be?

How could it be when you still throb around him like you did the first time he fucked you, the way your nails dig into his shoulders with every rough thrust of his cock, every mean smack against his fingers against your poor clit.

All of it is like a cruel reminder, really.

You can barely even tell if it’s intentional or not with how you’re a drooling mess under him, his body pressing you down harder against the creaky leather as he manhandles you however he deems fit.

All you can do is try to hold on to any semblance of your pride with your hands over your face. You’re biting down on your tongue to not cry out his name when he thumbs over your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier every time.

“F-first you can’t talk to me,” Jason pants, head falling back slightly when you clench around him “And now you don’t wanna look at me either?”

“Maybe you’d rather your Tinder date be fucking you?”

All you can offer is a slurred whine into the palm of your hand, shaking your head.

He continues like he didn’t even hear you.

“S’okay,” he almost coos, voice deceptively soft as his cock slams into you again, “y’can pretend I’m him if it makes you feel better, baby.”

“N-no!” You croak, your hands desperately trying to pull him closer. The sheer implication is enough to make your stomach churn.

“He’s n-not you, Jay - f-fuck-“

“Damn right he ain’t.” Jason grits out, forehead bumping against yours as he brushes his lips against yours.

“C-can’t fuck you like I can, can’t make you moan like I can, can’t love you like I can.” he’s babbling to himself at this point, it’s almost embarrassing.

“You still f-fuckin’ love me, right?” He can’t help it, precum already leaking down your thighs as he presses more of his body weight down against you.

He’s a guy with the emotional capacity of a spoon. It’s not often he throws around the l word.

Maybe that’s why when he pants out a plea like that against your lips you hesitate, staring up at him through your lashes.

“F-fuck m’gonna cum if you keep looking at me like that - shit, f-forgot how fuckin’ pretty y’still are,”

He’s in as bad a state as you are, trying really hard not to lose the run of himself completely.

You called him a dog earlier, implying how he’s disgusting and rude and loud but now he’s more like a puppy, big wet eyes staring down at you like he’s begging you to love him - or to try to at least.

“You still love me, yeah?” Jason swallows, thrusts getting more erratic as he swallows your moans,

“M’still your Jay, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you slur, mouth finally meeting his as you lift a hand to his scarred jaw, your legs shaking as you finally let him kiss you.

Jason’s pant trails off into a shaky, far less dignified sound. No fucking way in hell he just whimpered.

“Still my Jay,”

That’s all it takes for him to cum, thick ropes of it flooding your aching cunt until you’re little more than a fucked out mess beneath him.

“F-fuuuuck,” Jason mumbles into your neck, all but crushing you under his weight as his cock throbs inside you, his release dripping down your thighs.

“Delete that stupid f-fucking app, okay?”

He’ll have to delete all those fake Tinder accounts he ghosted you with too.

a/n: as always thank u for reading!! I’m alive I promise I’m just busy recently!!!!

Jason Todd m.list

[wheezyreads]

OMG THE REVEAL AT THE END😭

Jason Todd you fucking mastermind lmao

You need him like you need a broken leg and he needs you like he needs a crowbar to the face.

man i shouldn’t have cackled the way i did 😭

[sincerelybubbles]

monday, 9:52pm || spencer reid x reader

early seasons spencer x shy!bau!reader

a sniffle breaks Spencer out of his focus, eyes snapping up and shooting across the room. you're there, like you always are, buried to your eyes in paperwork. like you always are.

instead of your usual posture, though, you're slumped. an elbow on your desk, hand tangled in your hair, eyes downcast.

it's late, late enough that everyone has long since gone home. you two usually spend these quiet nights together - Spencer isn't exactly quiet about (or ashamed of) his lack of company to return home to. he hasn't gathered the courage to ask why you suddenly started staying late with him the past few weeks, more than happy to soak in the warmth that you are with your sweet smiles and genuine questions and wide, attentive eyes.

you're sweet in a way that makes Spencer fumble more than usual. soft spoken and shy, gentle with hesitation before you speak that doesn't come from self-consciousness or low self esteem but simply because you're kind and are always mulling over the best thing to say.

you're all of these lovely things packaged into one and you're crying.

he can hear the second soft sniffle, and the two that follow in rapid succession, easily as he's now paying attention. your shoulders are moving slightly and your head tilts further down, nose digging into the collar of the sweatshirt you only ever drag out of the depths of your desk when it's just the two of you here.

Spencer panics, eyes darting around his desk. he shoves his hands into the pocket of his coat hanging off of the back of his chair and finds a little package of tissues, a little crinkled in their plastic wrapping, but otherwise clean. gnawing on his lip, he flips them twice in his hand before standing up as quietly as he can manage and slipping into the small kitchen that is just around the corner.

your tea isn't hidden very well, he'd found it the first day you came into the office. he's never opened it before, though. he's only ever watched you make it, sipping his coffee and wondering how the mild drink could ever transport enough caffeine to fuel an overworked profiler.

he makes it how he remembers you making it, familiar with the rhythm after years of watching you over the tops of his books on planes and in hotel lobbies and this very kitchen.

he finds your favorite snoopy mug resting in the sink and washes it for you, rushed but thorough.

your head is in both of your hands when he returns, shoulders crumpled and elbows resting on your knees. he hesitates, snatching up the tissues on his way past his desk, already stuttering in his mind before he manages to say anything.

sure he'll muddy his words and say something stupid about the chemical components of tears or something else unhelpful and annoying, Spencer opts for simply crouching in front of you and resting the packet of tissues on your knee.

you jump a little, shocked at his sudden presence. a loud sniffle cuts the silence as you wipe your hands down your face and brush your hair back. you tuck it behind your ears in the way that always makes his heart jump, and then return your hands to cover your face.

"I'm sorry," you say, voice soft and warbling and so awfully sad that it makes Spencers anxiety pulse.

he doesn't know how to make whatever this is better, he's very much so not the perfect person for this, but he feels the urge to fix whatever has made you this sad humming in his bones.

"why're you apologizing to me?" Spencer asks, voice equally soft, as he settles back onto his heels. the mug of tea is clutched between both of his hands, steam curling up around his chin.

"for crying." you peer through your fingers down at him. "I'm okay, I promise."

"you don't seem okay," Spencer says, lifting the tea to your attention.

your breath is still hiccuping, tears flowing steadily. you make no move to grab the mug. moving without thinking, Spencer reaches forward and wraps his fingers gently around your wrist. you let him tug your hand down so he can set the mug inside of it, using his fingers to wrap your own around the base so the warmth seeps into your chilly palm.

"I'm not, but I can be. I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing."

Spencer shrugs at this, slowly retracting his hands despite how much he wants to keep holding yours. "you don't have to be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

you look at him funny at that, taking a slow sip of your tea. he can see the moment you notice it's your tea, made how you like it. he's proud for a second before you start crying again.

"what?" Spencer asks, panicked, reaching forward to hold your elbow, leaning into your space. "I'm sorry, that wasn't supposed to upset you."

"it hasn't," you promise, breathing deeply to compose yourself. "it's just, it's so nice. you're so nice."

Spencer nods, thoughts racing. he's utterly confused.

"thank you?"

"no, I should be thanking you. I'm sorry, it's just been such an awful day and you're so," you sigh, leaning back in your chair and cradling the mug to your chest. "you're so good and just. thank you."

"you're welcome?"

there's a silence then, as you steady your breath and slowly stop crying.

once Spencer is sure the movement won't cause another garage of tears, he settles down to sit fully, taking off his glasses to clean them so he has something to do with his hands as he says, "do you want to tell me about it? your bad day? I know I talk a lot, I talk too much, but I can listen, too. if you want that."

Spencer doesn't look at you for a few seconds, scared of your reaction. but, when you don't answer, he has to look up.

he sees you staring at him, sort of smiling, but mostly looking awed. when he meets your eye, you nod slowly, smile stretching. his heart hurts a little, at your sad but soft smile.

[wheezyreads]

so cute :,)

[sinner-as-saint]

I feel it turning into addiction - Part 1

Dark!Biker!Bucky x Reader au 

mini series masterlist

Summary: He was too old for this. Crushing on his next door neighbour? Unbelievable. He should leave the poor girl alone. But fuck, he couldn’t. Could he? After all, you were so sweet, and gentle, and kind, and always baked things in the middle of the night and left boxes and baskets filled with sweet-smelling treats at his doorstep for him to find almost each morning. And what did he do in return? He imagined all the sinful ways he could make you whine and whimper for him. He was bad for you, he knew that. People called him all sorts of things: criminal, gang leader, outlaw. Bucky Barnes was bad news. But did that stop him? No. You being so forbidden just solidified his addiction. Bucky Barnes never claimed to be a good man, so he’d do whatever it takes to get whatever he wanted. And all he wanted was you. 

Themes throughout the series: somnophilia, dub con, dark!bucky, age gap, smut, explicit language, biker!bucky, younger!reader, loss of virginity, mild daddy kink, mentions of stalking, voyeurism, 

“Hi angel,” Bucky whispered, his hand reaching out to caress your face. His fingers touching your soft skin gently as he knelt beside your bed. “I’ve missed you today.” 

Your bedroom was mostly dark. Except for the night light you always kept on. Bucky caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in your room. Him, still in his riding gear in the middle of your cute ass bedroom which was always just the right amount of messy. 

It was only a couple hours before sunrise and this was when you were in your deepest sleep. He knew that because… well, this wasn’t the first time he snuck into your room like a creep. 

“I know I said I would stop last time,” He murmured, letting his fingers roam across your cheek. “I said I would leave you alone. But I can’t, baby. I tried. Truly, I did. But then…” He sighed. “I worry about you a lot. I think about how my poor baby must be all alone, all alone and cold in her room. And I just,” He sighed again, “I just had to come see you, angel.” 

Bucky reached for your hand and held it in his. Your warmth chasing away the icy coldness of his skin. He hissed. He should really start wearing his gloves when riding at night. His biggest fear was that one night you’d wake up due to his icy touch. “Can’t have that now, can we?” He said. “Anyway,” He got up and sat on the edge of your bed, your hand still in his. Your soft snores still steady. “How was your day? I drove by your shop today, seemed busy so I didn’t come in like I often do.” He smiled, thinking about you in your cosy little café. “But that’s fine. You’ll probably leave some treats on my porch in the morning, huh?” He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “My perfect girl. You’re so good to me, you know that?” 

Silence. Always fucking silence. 

“I wish I could just… be a normal guy, you know? Take you out, treat you real nice, and actually have a conversation with you. But I’m bad news, baby.” He confessed. “You know that though, don’t you? You hear all the talk about me and my boys, and how we’re criminals and the bad guys.” He chuckled. “Part of it is true. But that doesn’t stop you from being kind to me, does it? However, being with me would mean danger at every corner for you. Right now, at least. There’s some bad guys after me right now, I gotta deal with that. And I can’t bring you into this right now. You see why I do this? Why I hide in the dark and come talk to you when you barely even listen to me? I gotta keep you safe, baby. I–,” 

A murmur cut him off. A soft sigh escaping your lips. A gentle, sleepy whisper. “Buck…” 

He froze. Fuck! He waited. And waited for you to wake up, slap him across the face and ask him to leave, or threaten to call the police. He waited. But you didn’t move. So you were still asleep? Bucky frowned, waiting a couple more seconds before he spoke again. 

“Dreaming of me, baby?” He bent down, leaning in to get closer to your face. “What was that, huh? You calling for me, angel? I’m right here.” He dared to press his lips gently to your forehead. “Right here with you.” 

Another sleepy incoherent murmur, a faint groan, and you shifted in your sleep and ended up bringing Bucky’s hand to your chest, cradling it like it was your favourite teddy bear. Bucky chuckled.

“What’s going on, hmm?” He leaned in to press his lips to your cheek. “What are you dreaming about?” 

He could make out what you said this time. You sighed again, then whispered mindlessly, “Please, Buck…” 

That sent a shiver straight down his spine. He felt hot all over. He couldn’t believe this. He could always tell there was some sort of tension between you and him but this? This was new territory. One he was more than willing to explore. He watched as you brought his hand upward, towards your neck, as if seeking his touch, and your body squirmed on your bed. Almost as if… you were trying to lift your hips, seeking friction. 

“Oh, baby… you’re killing me here.” He whispered, pulling away to watch the show for a little longer. And fuck, the slow movements of your hips, the gasps, and the incoherent murmurs… they were doing things to him. He couldn’t explain it. The mere thought of cute, pretty, innocent you having a naughty dream starring him was his undoing. 

So he did something he never dared to before. He slid his hand under your covers, under your layers of blankets, until he touched your soft, warm skin. “Oh fuck, baby.” He hissed. “Who said you were allowed to sleep naked, huh?” He leaned in and kissed your nose. “You’re so soft, angel.” His hand travelled down your stomach, all the way until he reached in between your thighs. “And what’s this?” He teased, “You’re having a wet dream? Look at that, baby. You’re fucking dripping all over my fingers.” 

He let his fingers explore a little bit, dipping into your wetness just enough to make you gasp. You remained asleep, he was certain of that. But your body, your hips did those little movements that drove him insane. 

“Look at you.” He whispered against your open mouth. “You’re being a very bad girl, baby. Letting me touch you like this…” He carefully slid a finger in, and watched how you moaned and squirmed. “Not even gonna put up a fight, huh? Is it because your body knows it belongs to me?” 

“Please…” A soft murmur escaped your lips, followed by some more incoherent words. 

“Oh, babygirl.” He kissed down your chin, your neck. “Is this what you want? Is this what you’re dreaming about?” He chuckled when he felt you clench around his finger slightly. “Aww, don’t worry. Daddy’s here, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.” He tried sliding his finger deeper but he couldn’t. “Fuck, angel. Come on, let me in.” He murmured, still kissing your skin. “Let daddy in, baby, come on.” He kept trying, but he didn’t wanna force it in either. “So fucking tight.” He hissed, “How are we gonna fit my cock in there if you won’t let my finger in, hmm?” 

Another gasp, another gentle moan fell from your lips and Bucky was fucking dying. 

“Come on, baby. Be nice to me. Let me in.” He begged, nuzzling your neck as he slid his finger in and out of you, going in just knuckle deep before pulling out and repeating. “Not gonna let me in, huh? You’re gonna tease me like this? Hmm? Gonna make daddy work for it? Make me beg for it?” 

A louder gasp escaped your lips, and Bucky froze again, thinking you’d woken up. But no. You were still in that dreamy state. Still having whatever naughty dream you were having. Featuring him, of course. And just the thought of that inflated his ego so much he could barely handle it. 

“Soon, angel.” He whispered against your skin, his thumb lazily rubbing your clit and making you quicken those sleepy squirms. “Soon, I’ll make all your dirty little dreams come true, okay? I promise you.” He kissed his way up to your mouth again, kissing your lips softly. “Won’t you come for daddy, baby? Hmm? Doesn’t this feel good?” 

A quiet whine was all he got, and a whimper. 

“There we go,” He kissed along your jaw. “That’s my good girl. Coming for daddy without even knowing, huh?” Bucky pulled his hand away, shoving his fingers straight into his mouth. He held back a groan. “Fuck, you even taste perfect. I’ll taste you properly soon, okay?” 

He gave you one last kiss before he checked the time and it was getting closer and closer to sunrise, which is when you usually woke up and got ready for the day. He knew he had to leave. Even though all he wanted was to slide under those warm covers and fuck you till the sun sets. But no. Not now. 

“There’s some guys causing trouble in our area, baby. Let me deal with that then I’ll finally take you out and spoil you like you deserve to be. Hmm? Can you wait till then?” He chuckled. “Of course you can. Cause you’re my good girl.” Another kiss on your forehead and he said, “Keep dreaming of me, angel. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

And then he left the same way he entered your bedroom. Through the window. The taste of you still lingering on his tongue. And Bucky knew now that he was well and truly addicted. And there was no going back now. 

Ready or not, angel.

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a/n: it's gonna be a short series, dw. Also i'll be making a tag list (if anyone's interested, lemme know)

[wheezyreads]

oh yes…

this about to be soooo goood