Last Time I Seen The Sun

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He was supposed to be off on Sundays- practically unreachable. It was a clause in his final contract that he signed almost 11 months ago. He had Sundays off with no disruptions. No calls, no emails, no meetings- and absolutely no work. So, when his phone rang through the quiet confines of his loft-style apartment, he groaned out in frustration.

Leave me the fuck alone, Paul…

He thought, slumping further into his couch as he slung his forearm over his eyes. He had nothing on his agenda besides a well-needed nap and some light D&D manual reading. He didn’t even plan on leaving his apartment. Just that.

So, when his phone stopping ringing, Eddie let out a sigh of relief- trying to doze off again before it started ringing again. Not even a five minute pause between the last call.

Whatever he wants, he can leave a goddamn message like everyone else.

He would get to it on Monday. Maybe. If he was lucky.

But no.

On the third attempted call, Eddie jumps off the couch with a groan- stomping over to his wall phone before picking it up.

“Munson.” He murmurs gruffly as he leans against the wall impatiently.

“Eds! Jesus Christ, kid! Pick up your damn phone when I call.”

“What do you want, Paul?” Eddie drones, already wanting to be off the phone as fast as he picked it up.

“Look, kid, I know you said no Sundays but-“

“Nuh-uh.” Eddie cuts him off “No. You know the rules. The only thing I asked for when we renewed my contract was that I get to be unreachable on Sundays. This-“ Eddie gestures to the phone in his hand even though he knew his manager couldn’t see him. It was all for emphasis, really.

“This is not unreachable.” He finishes “It can wait until Monday.”

“Look, kiddo, I know what you said but I don’t think this can wait.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

“Do not hang up on me, Munson! I know you’ve only got a month left of this but at least respect me enough to hear me out when I speak to you.”

“Fine,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his temple in exasperation “What do you want?”

“I’ve got a gig for you. Trust me, kid, you’re gonna love it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Y’know, Paul, I feel like I’ve heard you say that before.” He points out.

“Nah, kid. I mean it. I’ve got something you’re gonna love. Meet me in my office in an hour.”

“What!?” Eddie exclaims “Hold on! Wait-“

But before Eddie could argue, his manager had already hung up- leaving the other end dead as he stood there in disbelief.

That fucking bastard.

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To say that the porn industry had made him jaded would be an understatement.

After three grueling years, a lot of fucking, faking it, and getting off enough women to start a Jim Jones-style cult- Eddie had had enough. He was retiring. For good.

The announcement to the porn industry had been a shock to everyone. Eddie “The Freak” Munson; the sex-industry’s “Prince of Porn” (Or “The Prince of Pussy” as some called him, for some odd reason) was leaving behind his legacy as the ladies’ favorite male pornstar. No one has seen anything like it. It was practically unfathomable that someone of his caliber- someone who jackhammered his way into the hearts of millions- was walking away.

To almost every man in America, Eddie “The Freak” Munson was living their dream. Eddie, however, was bored, tired, and lonely. It was fun while it lasted but he was ready to move on. You could only fuck so many blondes with huge tits and daddy kinks until it got completely played out and repetitive. It also didn’t help that, outside of filming, he wasn’t even interested in sex.

True be told, sex had become the last thing on his mind. Not that he couldn’t fuck anyone he wanted. Hell, he was sure there would be a line halfway to Europe if he did. He just didn’t see the point. It was like eating the same meal everyday for the rest of your life. You get tired of it pretty damn quick. What was the point of sex without the emotional connection? The passion? The lust? It was just a waste of time and energy.

Eddie rolled into his manager’s office an hour and a half later, taking his sweet time as he parked his van at the studio. He walks past the receptionists, sending a wink their way as he walked through to Paul’s private office suite. There have been many occasions when he overheard the girls at the front-desk fawning over him after he had just wrapped up a scene with some “up and coming” star that was completely underwhelming.

Sometimes he even thought about taking home one of the receptionists and dicking them down just to see if he felt something. That he wasn’t completely numb to getting someone else’s rocks off. But Paul would surely have his ass if he found out. Sometimes Eddie wondered why he even cared.

“Where the hell have you been?” Paul exclaims, turning towards Eddie once he walks through the door “I was just in the middle of calling you.”

Paul puts the phone down as he watches Eddie plop down into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. What are your other two wishes.” Eddie deadpans.

“You’re lucky that production pushed back today’s shoot by another hour otherwise you would’ve missed out on what the hell I even called you in for.” Paul chastises, earning an eye-roll from his client.

“Which is?” Eddie points out “You had me race across town in traffic and you haven’t even told me that the hell for. Let’s get on with it. What’s this gig you’re so obsessed about?”

“I found a girl for you.” Paul announces excitedly as if he were a matchmaker and not a manager for sex workers.

“….Okay.” Eddie replies slowly “That’s it?”

“Would you lighten up?” Paul replies incredulously “I’m getting there, okay? Just give me a minute to, you know, set the scene.”

“Paul, I don’t pay you 10% for you to ‘set the scene’ and waste my time. Let’s pick a lane here, and stick to it.” Eddie states, not mincing words. One thing he learned fast during his first year in the industry was that mincing words was what got you used up and stomped on.

“Alright. So, I found this girl. Her manager came to me. Her company is putting together a flick. Oral Fixation 5 or some shit like that. Anyway, they’re looking for a male costar for her. They want someone good. It’s the girl’s first time with a partner. She mainly does solo work. She’s a bit skittish but cute. Different than the type of girls you usually work with.”

“So, you want me to fuck an amateur?” Eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, no. Not an amateur. She’s been on film before.”

“Has she fucked anyone on film before?” Eddie challenges, eyeing his manager judgmentally. Leave it to Paul to call him in on his day off to ask him to fuck some newbie that probably has no idea what she’s doing.

“See, that’s the thing, you wouldn’t be fucking her.” Paul explains.

“Then what would I be doing? Feeding her bon-bons?” Eddie asks.

“Like I said, it’s an oral flick. No fucking. Very simple stuff. She basically does most of the work herself. She’ll start off solo, get herself nice and ready, you come in and eat her out, make her come, she’ll suck you off, let you come on her face and voila! Done! You’ll be out of here by noon tomorrow. So, whaddya say?”

“….What does she look like?” Eddie asks, leaning forward in his seat. He would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued. No actual fucking? Just some light oral work, a blowjob, and then done? Didn’t seem that bad.

“That’s why I wanted you to come in!” Paul explains “She’s here. In Studio B shooting some stuff for Hot & Horny. You can head over, give her a good look, see what she can do, and then we can book it if she makes the cut. Maybe if she’s up to your standards, we can use her for your big flick. But you have to decide today before someone else snags her. She’s cute, kid. A real looker. I don’t see her staying small for very long.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Really.” Paul assures him “What’re you thinkin’?”

“Alright.” Eddie sighs, standing up from his chair “Let me see her.”

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When he walks into Studio B, Eddie is expecting to find another cookie-cutter run of the mill porn girl. Big fake silicone tits, lip injections, and an overly-enthusiastic fake orgasm. Bonus points for bleach blonde hair. What he didn’t expect to find was you- the complete antithesis of all of the other girls he’s used to. You were a breath of fresh air.

You stood off to the side of your set- a cute little bedroom set up complete with frilly pink floral sheets, heart shaped pillows, and cute little teddy bears. Boy band posters were taped onto the fake set walls to mimic the feel of a girl’s bedroom. College student, girl-next-door. Young, hot, and sexy- and, boy, Eddie was into it. He was so fucking into it.

Production staff began setting up the scene, placing several different adult toys onto the rose-printed lacy duvet. A smorgasbord of pleasure instruments. Eddie was no stranger to solo girls scenes. He’s gotten off to many of them. But this one was different. He was sucked in- intrigued.

You were standing in a silky robe, covering up whatever production has asked you to wear. All Eddie could get a glimpse of was the thigh high white stockings with lace trim that adorned your long, sexy legs. No heels. Interesting.

You were talking to a set manager, batting your long mascara-ed eyelashes as your pink, kissable lips spread into a sweet smile. The set guy said something that got you to laugh, your head tilting back as you let out an adorable sexy laugh- your hair draping down like a luscious waterfall.

Fuck, you were hot. So, so hot.

“Told you she was a looker.” Paul chimes in as he sidles up beside Eddie- too distracted to notice that he was even in the vicinity “What are your thoughts so far?”

Eddie didn’t want to reveal his hand just yet. He didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Let me sit in for this one. I wanna see what she does.” He replies slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Before he knows it, the director calls you over- motioning for you to enter your set and get yourself situated on the cutesy pink bed.

Alright, Eddie thought, Show-time.

Before the cameras begin to roll, you gingerly untie the silk sash of your rope- taking it off to reveal your lingerie ensemble before handing it off to a set manager. Eddie’s mouth immediately went dry.

There you were in all of your glory, decorated head-to-toe in a baby pink lacy lingerie set that Eddie wanted to unwrap- desperately. You wore a bra that was practically see-through, your perfect tits hardly covered by the lace that adorned them. Through the fabric, he could spot your perky nipples- his mouth beginning to water at the thought of rolling his tongue around them- his hands full of your gorgeous breasts.

You wore a pair of lacy matching panties. Your beautiful cunt barely hidden beneath the fabric. Covered up just enough to leave him wanting more. Teasing him. You were a vision. You sat primly on the bed, your legs tucked to the side- like a proper lady- as you waited for your cue to start. Eddie began to move closer- not wanting to miss this.

He sidled up to the small herd of production members, standing firmly as a few of them greeted him with a nod. They were probably wondering what the hell he was doing there. He normally didn’t sit in to watch scenes. He was more known to shoot his own shit, get dressed, and leave as soon as possible. Yet, here he was, metaphorically sitting on the edge of his seat as he waited for you to start.

As if by the grace of god, the set director calls action- signaling to you that the camera was rolling. There wasn’t even a hint of intimidation as you started off slow and tantalizing. You place your fingers over your lips, blowing your signature kiss to the camera. Those lips. Those pouty, pink lips. Eddie hadn’t seen anything yet and he was already hooked- those soft kissable lips drawing him in. Soft lips that he wanted wrapped around his cock.

Continuing on with your tease, you trail up your body with your cute little hands, reaching up to your chest- gently massaging your tits through your lacy pink bra. The movement was slow and sensual, your hands kneading your perfect breasts- pushing them together seductively as you began to look straight into the lens of the camera.

Okay, Eddie thought, this was definitely not your first time doing this sort of thing.

He could tell, immediately- his eyes taking in the way that you were confident and deliberate with your touches. The way that your hands trailed up and down your body- grabbing, kneading, and tracing your irresistible curves. You were comfortable. In your element. Eddie could tell right away that, when it came to getting yourself off, you were definitely no amateur. He had barely even seen anything yet and he knew- and all he wanted was to see it in real time.

You reach up to hook your thumbs into your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders as you bit your lip- batting those pretty eyelashes at the camera lens. Reaching behind you, you began to unclasp your bra- sliding it off agonizingly slow. Eddie’s breath hitches as his eyes lock onto your bare tits- nipples hard and perky as you playfully toss the discarded bra onto the floor beside the set bed.

Eddie couldn’t help but smirk, loving the way that you teased the camera- staring it down as if it were the viewers at home. The sad, unfortunate losers that weren’t anywhere near as lucky as he was to see it in person- to even be offered the opportunity to get on his knees to please you.

You kneel onto the bed, giving the camera a good view of your lower half- your lace panties and stockings still on. Those fucking stockings. Eddie could feel the blood circulating to his dick, causing him to grow hard against the zipper of his jeans. You had barely even done anything but play with your tits and he was already starting to leak precum.

These days, it took a lot for Eddie to physically react to things. Being overly-exposed to sex in this industry tends to do that to you. So, the sheer notion that he was getting hard and horny for you when all he had seen so far were your breasts was pretty damn close to miraculous. You were barely even into your scene and he was sure that he’d have to use one of the private dressing rooms to rub one out afterwards.

You ran your hands down your stomach, staring down the camera as you caressed lower and lower down your body until you reached the waistband of your panties, biting your lip as you plunged your right hand into the fabric. Eddie had to stop himself from groaning at the sight. He had seen plenty of women touch themselves- he was a pornstar, for fuck sake- but the way that you did it was hypnotizing. His eyes become glued to your clothed core as he focuses on the way that your fingers moved and teased yourself behind the thin fabric.

So fucking hot. So goddamn sexy.

He wanted to see more- needed to see more.

Your nimble little fingers teased your clit, working behind the thin fabric of your panties as you threw your head back in pleasure- your hair cascading down as your free hand reached up to one of your breasts. You pinched the nipple between your fingers, letting out a light little moan that had Eddie’s dick stirring beneath his boxers.

Fuck, that’s hot. Eddie thought. Keep going, baby. Show me how you do it.

As if you could read his mind from across the room, your eyes open- flickering over to him as you inch your hand further down into your panties. You insert a digit inside of your pussy, causing yourself to gasp as the sensation.

Shit.

Eddie watches your knuckles work their way inside of your cunt as he strains himself to get even just a glimpse past what’s behind those pretty lace panties. He could bet that they were fucking sopping wet by the way that your muscles didn’t tense or stutter when you inserted another finger. You probably slid it in with complete ease. Like it was nothing- and that was so incredibly hot.

It went on like this for a while. Eddie staring at your lower half as you toyed with yourself from behind the panties. Just when he thought he was on the brink of getting blue balls, you slowly slipped your fingers out of your panties- the production lights on the studio set picking up the way that your digital glistened with your arousal. It was a fucking sight. Such a sight that Eddie didn’t even think about you upping the ante- taking your drenched fingers and sliding them into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them as you sucked them clean.

Holy..fuck.

Suddenly, the director called cut- the sound of his orders causing Eddie to snap his head over in horror.

Cut? No. No, no, no, no, no! You were just getting started! What the fuck?!

“Alright, babe, second act. Lose the panties and get into position. Legs spread, okay?” The director calls out, causing Eddie to sigh in relief. You weren’t wrapping yet.

Thank god!

You nod at the director, hopping off the bed as you begin to take your panties off, sliding them down your legs. Where Eddie was standing off-set, he had the perfect view as you bent over further and further to push your underwear off. You were bend over so low that he had a full fucking view of your glistening wet pussy, and he was right- you were sopping. It took all of the fucking strength and self-control he had to not stomp onto that set, pull down his jeans to free his raging hard cock and jam it into your fucking cunt. God, he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life. He wanted to tell production to fuck your solo scene so that he could start fucking you.

You straighten up, now standing as you kicked off the panties- leaving you completely nude aside from the white thigh-high stockings. You climb back onto the bed, perched near the edge as you opened your legs- sitting spread eagle in front of the camera. Eddie was fully convinced that he was about to pass out.

That perfect little pussy. It was wet, pink, and tight. The prettiest he’s ever seen and he’s seen a lot during his career. Yours was the first to make him go weak in the knees, wanting to sink down in front of you at the edge of the bed as he spread you open and devoured you- acting as if you would be his last meal.

Production came rushing in to fix your hair, smoothing away any imperfections before running off set- gearing up for your cue. You waited patiently like a good, good girl. Hands to yourself as you awaited permission to continue and, if it were up to Eddie, he would reward you. For being so good. So patient.

The director begins rolling, cuing you in to start and Eddie was hooked and ready to see what you would do next- spread out in front of him. Your eyes catch the camera, your hands roaming down to your core as you begin to play with your clit- now uncovered. No barriers in-between. Thank god.

Your middle finger does all of the work, slowly circling your sensitive little button as you throw your head back again, letting the sensation take over you. Letting your hands freely pleasure yourself as if no one were watching- as if it really were you in your bedroom alone. That, Eddie decided, was what made it so hot. You weren't putting on a performance for anyone. There was no theatrics, no drama- no over the top acting. It was you. Just as you were. Enjoying every little bit of it- and, goddamn, was it sexy.

You let out soft little moans and gasps that went straight to Eddie’s dick, twitching in his pants at the way that you sounded. You sounded sweet- melodic. Music to his ears as your breathing picked up. He stared as you moved your fingers from your clit and down through your folds, wet and glistening as you spread your arousal all over your sex. You were drenched. In all of his life, Eddie never even thought about wanting to be an appendage, but holy shit was he jealous of your fingers.

You use one of your hands to spread yourself open for the camera, causing Eddie’s eyes to almost roll into the back of his head. He was seeing so much of you and he hadn’t even met you yet. But he couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t look away.

You sink the middle finger of your other hand into your pussy, pushing it in until you reach your knuckle- so fucking deep with that little finger of yours. Eddie couldn’t help but want to take over, wanting to use his much bigger digits to fill you up just how you deserved.

Eddie watched as you slip another finger in, framing your soaked core with your pointer and pinky finger. The way that you touched yourself was hypnotic, putting him in a trance as you ramped yourself up closer and closer to your orgasm. Your moans grew louder, breathing heavier and more needy. Because there was something you needed- Him. Or maybe that’s delusional of him to think. But he knew that he needed you. He was hungry for you and he wanted a taste.

You begin fingering yourself, expertly delving your fingers into your pussy as you fucked yourself with your digits just the way that you liked. Eddie studies this, watching the way that you liked it- wanting to replicate it. No, he wanted to do it better. So fucking good that you couldn't even fathom the idea of anyone touching you but him. He was so drunk on your pussy and he hadn't even so much as touched it yet. He was fucked.

"Alright, angel." The director calls out, catching Eddie's attention for a moment "How about we get some footage of you with one of the toys? Get a really good build-up, climax, we'll do a closeup of the aftermath, and then we're done. Sound good?"

Toys? Eddie forgot about the toys. He was so fucked. He probably shouldn't watch this, knowing that he could very well finish in his pants- but he didn't care. He was rooted to the spot. Too addicted to move. He was drunk on you and your sexy body and your perfect pussy. He needed this. He needed to see you come undone. He needed something to think about tonight as he jacked himself off so hard that he would probably chafe. He'd have to use lube. His own spit wouldn't cut it. There's no way that he could rub himself raw when he knew that he was going to be lucky enough to be in your mouth the next day. Sucked off by those pouty pink lips.

His own thoughts and the view of you naked on that bed, toying with yourself, was becoming overstimulating. It was like an outer-body experience to watch. Even though he didn't feel like he was in his own body, he knew that there was nothing he wanted more than to be inside of yours.

His eyes are glued to the scene as you daintily reach for the toy of your choice. A purple Jack Rabbit style vibrator. You click it on, watching as the toy came to life in your hands. Eddie couldn't help but think about how much bigger he was than that stupid toy. How he would be able to reach places inside of you that the vibrator couldn't even come close to reaching. Places that you probably didn't even know existed. You deserved to be fucked like a queen. Not by some inadequate toy. Even still, he watched as you pressed the tip of the toy to your clit- causing you to gasp loudly in reaction.

Fuck, Eddie thought as he watched you slide the tip of the toy past your clit and through your folds- marveling at the way that your body shivered in reaction. The way that your body responded to pleasure was oh so delicious. Eddie was eating it up like he was starving.

He watches as the toy collects a thick coating of your arousal, making it so wet that Eddie had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.

Fuck, you were so wet.

You slide the toy back up towards your clit, pressing the tip against it harshly as your eyes fluttered shut- causing you to buck your hips.

So fucking sensitive.

You swirl the toy against your clit as you breath catches, followed by a soft moan that escaped those pretty lips.

Fuck, baby, let me hear you.

As if you could hear his thoughts, you let out a needy whine. You needed more. It wasn't enough. Not even close.

Before he could process it, you had begun to insert the toy into your pussy- falling back onto the mattress underneath you as you started to thrust it inside. Flicking your wrist with a motion that had you whimpering desperately. The vibration inside of your cunt causing your walls to contract around the vibrator- making it a tight squeeze to continue thrusting.

Eddie's eyes were wide as he watched. The sounds of your moans, the faint buzzing of the vibrator, and the wet squelching sound of your pussy completely overtaking him. Fuck, this was hot. The most erotic thing he's ever fucking seen.

You continue fucking yourself with it, picking up the pace as you sit yourself up enough to watch you fuck yourself with it.

Shit, yes! Bet you like to watch yourself get fucked, don't you?

You mouth falls open as you watch how slickly coated the toy was as you pushed it in and out of your pussy. Eddie was jealous that it wasn't his dick covered in your arousal, making it so easy for him to slide in and out of your cunt at an ungodly pace. He wanted it so fucking bad that his knees were weak.

Without warning, you finally find that spot. That perfect spot deep within you that had you going crazy. Toes curling, gasping for air, moaning out like crazy as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were close.

Fuck, baby! Just like that! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You pushed that pathetic little toy as deep as it could go, your mouth falling into a perfect little 'O' as you got closer and closer and closer.

Show me how you like it, baby. That's right. So fucking good!

Soon you couldn't control yourself, bucking your hips as you thrusted it in and out of hole as your moans became more loud and desperate.

Fuck, sweetheart, doing so good. You're almost there. Need to watch you cum.

You began to reach your peak, practically sobbing as you kept working for it.

C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Let me see it.

And as if on cue with his dirty thoughts, you cry out in pleasure. Finally peaking as your thighs began to shake, whimpering as you came all over that stupid toy- your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave.

Fuck, yes! That's it! Fuck, you are so fucking hot! Jesus fucking Christ!

You rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. It was so fucking hot. Eddie didn't know how he had gone this long in his career without fucking you. Without knowing you existed. A perfect little sex kitten that he wanted to play with. Hell, you alone were giving him second thoughts about retiring. Not before he could fuck you in every possible way imaginable. Fuck, he was so fucking into you that he could surely invent new ways to fuck you that had never even been thought of before. He'd have to create a whole new updated version of the Kama Sutra with you as his sole muse.

"That's a wrap! You did great!"

The director praises you as you slowly begin to sit up on the bed, hair wild with a blissed-out look on your face. Eddie had never seen someone look so beautiful post-orgasm.

A member of the production crew came over to you and handed you your silk robe. You stand up with shaky legs as they helped you put it on- making yourself modest after that fucking smoke-show that you had just given everybody. Eddie didn't know how no one else was crashing down like he was. He was leaking so much precum that he would probably need new pants. But it was worth it because you were...wow.

"See? I told you." Eddie whips his head over to catch his manager standing there next to him. Had he been there the whole time? Had Eddie been talking out loud? "What do you think, kid?"

Eddie's mouth was dry. He felt dehydrated from just watching. He felt like he needed to down a gallon of water after watching you get yourself off like a fucking professional. With an intensity that he's never fucking seen before.

"Is she still available?" Eddie croaks, his heart hammering in his chest. What if another guy had swooped in and booked the gig right under his nose while he was too busy ogling at you?

"I could give her manager a call and see if it's still open. I know they reached out to a few guys. That Chris Infamous guy being one of them. The jacked up one with the muscles. You know who I'm talking about."

Chris Infamous? Over his dead fucking body!

“Paul, go call her manager right now and tell them I’m in. Like, now.”

────────

The whole way home, he had been antsy. He had waited an hour after your shoot in his manager’s office as he called up your manager in an attempt to get in touch with them. There was no luck. Paul had missed them every single time- and Eddie made him leave a voicemail every…single…time. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his hands.

Eddie tried to busy himself with his previous plans that he had before leaving his loft earlier that day but he just couldn’t focus. The words in his Dungeons and Dragons player manual just blended together and his mind would wander off, causing him to read the same sentence over and over again.

He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. Your soft, supple body wrapped up in that pink lingerie. Those goddamn white stockings that you had kept on the entire shoot. The way your pussy glistened with your arousal underneath the production lights. Eddie was addicted- transfixed. He needed to do this scene with you.

He throws down his player’s manual, tossing his head back onto the couch. He stares up at the ceiling as he lets out a frustrated grunt. Waiting back for a response was torture. He just needed a yes or a no- hopefully a yes. God, he was hoping for a yes. But if the gig was taken, he wished he would know sooner rather than later in order to kill the anticipation.

He reaches onto the coffee table for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between his lips before lighting it. He took a couple of drags, the taste of nicotine barely doing anything to calm his nerves. He was so pent up. He had been ever since your scene. He was hot and bothered.

His mind drifts back to thoughts of you. Your perfect tits that would fit perfectly in his hands. Your perky nipples that he wanted to roll his tongue against, tasting them. But he mostly thought about your sex. What you would taste like. He imagined that you would be sweet- candy-coated beneath his tongue as he ate you up. Liquified sugar in the best way.

Eddie could feel his cock twitch beneath his pants as he fantasized- wanting to bury his head between your soft thighs as he worked his tongue against you so ferociously like it would be the last thing he’d ever do. He’d never wanted someone as bad as he wanted you- wishing that he could toy with your sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue. Teasing you until you begged for more.

Eddie began to unbutton his pants, feeling the ache in his cock that was dying to be satiated. He needed a release. His head was so full of you that he needed to do something to quell the heat that he felt in his groin. He needed to cum.

He pulls down his zipper, feeling a sense of relief as the pressure of the metal enclosure against his hard cock was finally removed. It was like releasing a long, pent-up sigh. He was painfully hard. Practically throbbing underneath his boxers as he slides his hand down past the fabric, gripping himself as he attempts to pull his dick out. He winces at the sensitivity he felt on his cock head.

When he pulls his dick free from his jeans, he looks down to find that his tip was nearly red, angry at the lack of attention that it was receiving. It had been a long time since Eddie had touched himself. He normally didn’t have to with the kind of work that he did. But this was different, he needed this. He needed relief.

He wraps his hand around his length, slowly moving it up and down the way that he liked but his member felt nearly hot to the touch. He was so worked up that it had made him ultra-sensitive to every little thing. Every stroke, every little flick of his wrist. He could feel everything with ten times more intensity than normal. And, god, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to jack himself off to completion on his living room couch. No, he wanted to sink his desperately hard cock into the velvety soft walls of your incredible cunt.

A pearl of precum leaks out of his tip, slowly dripping down until he collects it with his finger-swiping it up to use as lubricant and he began to buck his hips into his hand. It shouldn’t be his hand. It should be you. He didn’t want to settle for anything that wasn’t you. But he’d have to until he hopefully got the real thing.

“Ah! F-fuck!” He gasps as he picks up a faster pace, wanting to reach his peak as quickly as possible. He was desperate for it. He was needy and fucked out by the images of you that kept playing out in his head.

You on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you like the good girl you would be. Like the good girl he just knew that you were. He stroked himself fast and hard as he thought about how he’d want you to take his cock. He wanted your legs slung over his shoulders as he pounded into you hard enough to have you sobbing. He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat and jerk you back onto his cock as he fucked you from behind. He wanted to fuck you like a whore. Like you were made for it.

“Fuck, baby…” Eddie whimpers, more precum oozing from his tip as he imagined that it was your hand instead of his. Stroking him with those soft little hands of yours as you stared him down with those gorgeous eyes. Marveling at just how crazy you could drive him- at just how badly he wanted you.

“Shit….just like that, sweetheart. Fuck.”

Eddie could feel himself getting close, his breathing picking up faster and faster until they became needy grunts- trying to chase his high.

“Shit, shit, holy fuck…”

He kept stroking and he wouldn’t stop until he got there. Not when all he could think about was just how hot you looked when you orgasm. When all he wanted was to fuck you so good that you had to beg him to stop. How he wanted to make you cum on his cock over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to take you apart just to put you back together again.

Just when he was ramping up to his finish, a few seconds away from blowing his load into his hand, the phone rings- snatching him right out of his fantasies.

Fuck. No!

He growls in frustration, jumping off the couch as he stumbles towards the phone- barely stuffing his angry cock back into the confines of his jeans. A denim-clad prison.

“What?” He huffs as he picks up the phone, his breathing still heavy and ragged from touching himself.

“Eddie, listen, I got in touch with her management.”

“Fuck!” He sighs in relief, resting his back against the wall. “What’d they say?”

“They were pretty psyched that you wanted in, kid. Turns out you were first choice for them. Which is great because they were an inch away from giving the gig to Chris. Good thing I called when I did. Anyway, you got the gig. They’re excited. The girl’s excited.”

You were excited? Wait…You knew who he was?

“Wait, she knows who I am?” Eddie stammers, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Oh yeah.” Paul laughs “Apparently she’s a huge fan.”

“Fuuuck. No shit?” He asks, trying to fight the grin on his face. He felt on-top-of the-world fucking incredible.

“Have you ever known me to pull your leg, kid? She asked for you specifically. By name. Lucky you, playboy!”

Yeah, Eddie thought. No fucking kidding!

“She asked…for me?” He still couldn’t believe it. You were out-of-this-world gorgeous and you wanted him to be your first on-screen partner? Eddie hadn’t experienced an ego-boost this big since…well, ever.

“Yeah, kid. First on her list. She was worried we wouldn’t accept what her management was offering but I told her we’d make it work.”

Fuck, he would do it for free.

Wait…

“You spoke to her?” Eddie asks, jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Oh yeah,” Paul replied “She personally returned my calls. Wanted to thank us for accepting.”

“No fucking way.” Eddie swoons. It just kept getting better.

“She also wanted me to tell you that she hoped you were impressed at the shoot today. She said she was a little nervous when she saw you but hopefully you didn’t notice.”

You...naughty…little…minx. You had known that he was there the entire time? Fuck….

“Anyway, call time for tomorrow is eight a.m.” Paul adds “And Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fucking be late.”

────────

The next morning, Eddie had woken up early.

Not because he had something to do or somewhere to be. No vastly important errands that he needed to run. Eddie had woken up early because his body couldn’t stand to stay dormant and asleep any longer. Because, for once in a long time, his reality was better than sleep. He had something to look forward to- you.

He had never felt this way before, never took his work too seriously- honestly, what was there to take seriously? He just showed up, fucked, picked up his check, and went home. He never put much thought into things. He just did them. But today was different. Today, he seemed to be putting too much thought into everything.

He agonized over whether or not to drink coffee, worried that the caffeine might make him come off hyper or on edge when he finally had the opportunity to speak to you. He debated foregoing breakfast, giving himself an excuse to invite you out to post-work brunch if things really took off between you two. This was the start of all of his worries. The closer it got to his call time, he got more and more in his own head.

He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about himself. Anything that you could nit-pick when you finally met. Did you like tattooed guys? What if you didn’t? Would you think his tattoos were stupid? Did you prefer guys with short hair as opposed to long hair? What if he wasn’t your type at all in the slightest and none of this even really mattered? It only got worse by the minute.

Then he reminded himself that you knew him. You’ve seen his work. You were a fan. There was obviously something you must have liked if you chose him out of any other guy in the industry. You were so pretty that you could have requested anyone you wanted- and you chose him. Eddie desperately wanted to know why.

He prepped and primped himself in the bathroom like a teenage girl. He took extra care in the shower, scrubbing every inch of himself vigorously with the soap that smelled extra good.

He washed and conditioned his hair. Hell, he actually brushed it and applied product instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it good. He fucking styled it- putting it into a low bun with a hair tie that he found in his medicine cabinet. He knew just how much wearing his hair up drove women crazy- and he hoped that you weren’t any exception.

He paid extra attention to his downstairs area, making sure that he was perfectly trimmed and proper for you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get on your knees for him and be met with an unkempt jungle. He wanted things to be neat and tidy. He also hoped that landscaping the bush would make his dick appear prettier- something that you’d want to put in your mouth.

An hour before his call time, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt like he was in high school again, nervous and skittish around the female population of Hawkins High. Which was ironic considering what he does for a living these days. Over the years following graduation and leaving that hellhole, Eddie had begun to gain a sense of self-confidence. His demeanor changed.

He became sure of himself, finally believing that he was worth women’s attention. That he was far more attractive than he initially gave himself credit for- and the critical feedback on his work as a porn actor definitely proved that. If twenty year-old Eddie could see just how many women would flip their shit over him, he’d have probably dropped dead in disbelief. But none of those women mattered. None of the porn girls that he had previously filmed with mattered. Even the girls from Hawkins didn’t matter anymore. You mattered.

The whole drive to the studio was anxiety-inducing. Multiple people tried to cut him off on the freeway- gotta love L.A. traffic. Some douchebag in a fucking Corvette flipped him off because he forgot to use his blinker, which seemed to worsen Eddie’s mood as he just kept overthinking himself. How was he supposed to talk to you, let alone shoot a scene, when he couldn’t even drive straight?

When he finally pulled up to the studio and parked his van, Eddie was officially a wreck. He had no idea what to do with himself. You were probably already inside trying to pretty yourself up for your scene together. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what you would wear- hell, why did he even care if you wore anything at all?

He wondered if you were just as nervous as he was. Granted, you had an excuse. This would be your first scene with a partner, meanwhile, this wasn’t anywhere close to Eddie’s first rodeo. Yet, he felt like a virgin on prom night.

He enters the studio, trying to act normal as the front desk girls greet him. Even the choruses of “Hi Eddie…” in their seductive voices weren’t enough to get him out of his own head. He just gave a small wave and a slight tinge of a smile on his lips. Normally he would’ve leaned up against the receptionist desk and flirted- given them just a scrap of his attention. But not today. Not when he felt like he was going to be sick.

He drifted all the way back to Paul’s office, casually knocking on the door a couple of times before letting himself in. His manager looks up from his desk, suddenly adopting a confused look on his face once he laid eyes on Eddie.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Paul asks, tilting his head in confusion.

The comment takes Eddie aback, immediately causing his stomach to drop. Was he missing something? He was supposed to be here…right? Then he felt the dread seep in.

Fuck. The shoot’s cancelled. No way. There is no…fucking…way.

“I…uh…I’m confused.” Eddie replies slowly, shaking his head as he tries to keep it together. This could not be happening.

“Aren’t we shooting today? I came before call time. Did they fucking cancel?” He panics, running his ring-clad fingers through his hair in agony. Fuck!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Paul says “Nobody cancelled. Shoot’s still on.”

“But…I thought…you said you were surprised that I’m here.” Eddie tries to reason.

“Yeah,” Paul nods, looking at Eddie as if he were nuts “I’m surprised that you’re here before call time. I’ve managed you for the past three years and I can barely remember a time when you’ve ever shown up on time. Let alone early.”

“Oh.” Eddie replies, dumbfounded.

Well, at least the shoot is still on.

“Are you wearing cologne?” Paul asks, looking Eddie up and down as he stood awkwardly in front of his desk.

“Oh.” Eddie breathes “Yeah.”

That has Paul even more confused. Eddie always smelled nice but it was always just his natural scent- laundry detergent, a woodsy musk from the deodorant he wore, and a hint of cigarette smoke. Eddie never deliberately put on cologne unless he was trying to impress someone- and Paul knew this.

“Alright, well…” Paul starts, not knowing what to say to make things less awkward than it already was “Your leading lady is here. Dressing room A.”

“She’s here already?” Eddie gapes, taken by surprise. He thought he had more time to prepare. For what? He didn’t know.

“Yeah, kid. Unlike you, the leading lady happens to know a thing or two about punctuality. Speaking of which, why don’t you go see how she’s doing? Bet she’s sweating like a sinner in church. First time on-camera partner and all that.”

“Do you think she’s nervous?” Eddie asks, out of concern but mostly to gauge if you could be nervous because of him.

“No idea, kid, but it would be nice for you to have a conversation with each other. You know, before you stick your dick in her mouth.” Paul suggests.

To which, he had a great point. Eddie probably should go and say hi. Hopefully he can pull himself together enough to be charming and personable for you. Or, if anything, at least make you feel a bit more comfortable with him before he went down on you in front of a whole camera crew. This could either go very well for him or become a complete disaster.

────────

Eddie stood outside of your dressing room door, his body so tense that he felt like stone. On the other side of this door was you- the girl of his wet dreams that he somehow, begrudgingly, didn’t know existed until yesterday. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. Eddie’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots and the last thing he wanted was for you to see that he was nervous. No, he had to play it cool- confident and sure of himself. He could do this. Even if it was all a facade.

He begins to knock, so nervous that he could practically break into a sweat over it. He was definitely glad that he decided to wear cologne today but then Eddie began to worry that maybe the cologne would make it seem like he was trying too hard. He was worried that you could sense it and that it would turn you off. Turning you off was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

He could hear shuffling from behind the door, the sound growing closer before the handle turned and the door swung open- revealing you. All dolled up with completed hair and makeup. Wearing that short little silk robe. As soon as you saw him, your face broke into a smile.

Okay, Eddie thought, that’s a good sign.

“Hey,” he smiles, trying to be smooth but it was so fucking hard when you looked at him with those eyes “I’m Eddie. I’m…uh…I’m your scene partner for today.”

Not that he had to introduce himself. You knew exactly who he was. You had gotten off to his scenes more times than you could count.

“Right, of course!” You exclaim, extending out your hand in greeting as you introduced yourself to him. Eddie raised his eyebrows when he noticed that you hadn’t given him your porn name. No, you had given him your real name.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you….properly.” Eddie jokes, causing you to laugh. God, he loved the way your lips curled into a smile- how your eyes lit up. You were so damn pretty.

“Me too.” you nod, looking at him for a beat too long to be accidental. With a cheeky little glint in your eyes as you casually looked him up and down.

Oh, Eddie thought, so we’re flirting now?

“You mind if I come in? Or are you going to make me hang out in the hallway?” Eddie teases “Which I wouldn’t mind. As long as you keep looking at me like that.”

Your heart flutters in your chest “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” You bite your lip nervously- and, boy, does Eddie notice.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He smirks “So, you gonna let me in or?”

“Right!” You shake your head “Come in.”

You step aside, letting him walk through the door before closing it for privacy. Not that you expected anything to happen. Not off-camera, at least.

Eddie walks over and sinks down onto the small loveseat that was against the wall in the dressing room. He sits seductively, legs spread apart as he leans back on the sofa like he owned it. Honestly, he was so charming that he could tell you that he did, indeed, own it and you’d believe him. You, on the other hand, sank down into the hair and makeup chair across from him.

“So, I…uh….I should probably say thank you for accepting. My management probably already told you but it’s my first time doing a scene with someone else. I normally do solo work.”

“So I’ve seen.” Eddie replies, a cocky smirk on his lips. He wanted you to know that he had seen you in action. Not that he needed to tell you. No, he just wanted to remind you of the fact.

“So, my manager might have told me that you had requested me specifically…..by name.”

As soon as the words left his lips, your face began to heat up in embarrassment. “He told you that?”

“Mhm.” Eddie hums, his eyes devouring you.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie smiles slyly “I was pretty flattered, actually. Not gonna lie, it kinda gave me a big head.”

And, to tell you the truth, I wanna show you my big head, Eddie wanted to say.

But he didn’t want to come off crude and overtly sexual during your first meeting.

“Really?” You mumble bashfully, trying to look anywhere but at Eddie but it was so hard when he was so fucking hot.

“Yeah.” He confirms “Especially coming from a girl like you. So, tell me, sweetheart….why me?”

The sound of his deep, sexy voice calling you sweetheart was enough to make you light-headed. Lord have mercy….

“Well,” you sigh “My management really started to float the idea of me doing stuff with a co-star. They thought it might push my career a bit more and give me more opportunities. To be honest, I wanted to do it but I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. So, I told them that I would only agree to do it as long as I could pitch at least one guy that I thought I could feel…comfortable with.”

You thought you could feel comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something about him that you felt was different than all of the other porn guys. You were far too shy to admit it but Eddie was your favorite male pornstar. You didn’t know what it was about him but he just felt safe. Like you wouldn’t be completely in your head if you were to work with him.

You had seen so much of his stuff that you had witnessed exactly how he treated other girls-putting their pleasure first so much so that he made sure to at least get them off twice before he finished, himself. It wasn’t just that but how soft he seemed with them. Like every one of them and how they felt was important. For your first time, you didn’t want to feel like a piece of meat. You wanted to feel cared for. You were certain that Eddie Munson would be the perfect guy to pop your first-time cherry with. He didn’t want to settle for anything else.

“I make you feel comfortable?” He asks, looking at you in a way that had you on the brink of melting into your seat. However, truth be told, it was Eddie who was trying not to lose his shit. You felt comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something different about him than the others. You felt something.

“That’s, uh, really flattering.” Eddie clears his throat, trying to stifle the very turned-on moan that he felt coming. "Can I maybe ask why you feel comfortable with me? Y'know, so I can lean into it while we're shooting the scene?"

And so I can use it as spank bank material tonight…

“Well, I don't really know what it is exactly.” You begin, wringing your hands nervously in your lap “I guess it’s the vibe you give off. I’ve seen your stuff and I just….there’s something about how you treat the other girls that makes me feel like I’d be safe. Cared for, I guess.”

“Okay, yeah." He nods.

Keep it together, Eddie. Jesus Christ...

“I want to make sure you feel cared for. It's important to me. Especially it being your first time. I'm really flattered."

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, of course. How could I not be?' Eddie admits “You're, like, super gorgeous....and you picked me, for some reason."

He says it as if he's not one of the most sought after guys in the industry. Like he was nobody. Like he couldn't have a harem of girls hanging all over him if he wanted to.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m looking forward to it. Making you feel cared for...and safe."

"Thanks, Eddie." You reply bashfully "That means a lot to me."

"Um....so....since we're being truthful and shit...can I admit something?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Yeah." You agree "Absolutely. Safe space and all." You smile and, god, it makes Eddie's dick so hard.

"I...uh...I've kinda got a little crush on you." He blurts out before he can back out of saying it.

"Oh." You breathe, your eyes widening in surprise "You have a crush...on me?"

Eddie fucking Munson just admitted that he had a crush on you.

"...Yeah." He winces "I've kinda been down bad for you since yesterday."

"Really?" You repeat "Me?"

"Why do you keep saying it like it's hard to believe or something?" Eddie laughs.

"I mean....because it is. You're...you know..."

"I'm what?" He pushes, wanting to hear you say it.

"You're Eddie 'The Munch' Munson, for god's sake."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie laughs "That’s a new one."

"I mean...it's not not factual." You argue "When you...you know...eat pussy like that....you could have basically any girl that you want."

"Hm." Eddie hums, as if he were doubting it.

"Oh please," You tease "Don't act all modest. You know you're gifted."

"Oh, I am, am I?" He flirts, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips.

"As if you don't know." You scoff, trying to avoid his gaze. But how could you when he was so hot?

"Well, sweetheart, that's really flattering coming from you." He compliments "At least I know that I have a pretty good chance of pleasing you later."

The comment went straight to your core, causing you to shift in the hair and makeup chair as you clamp your thighs together. You tried to be inconspicuous about the fact that him and his words had such a strong effect on you, but Eddie's eyes shift to your long, sexy legs as you crossed them in your seat. His lips curl into another smirk. He was loving this.

"Don't look at me like that." You practically whisper, your face heating up bashfully.

"Like what?" Eddie teases, that fucking shit-eating-grin still plastered on his face.

"I don't know. Like-"

"Like I wanna eat you?" Eddie interjects, raising an eyebrow at you seductively.

Cocky asshole....

"What if I do wanna eat you, sweetheart?" He asks, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, staring you down.

"I-"

"'Cause I do. As a matter of fact, since this is a safe space and all, I'm going to tell you that I wanna eat you so fucking bad. Real bad."

You were so fucking wet. Holy fucking shit.

"And if I'm being real honest, baby, I wanna eat you so good that I make you cry. But I get the feeling that you just might like that."

"Eddie..."

"But only if you want me to." He adds "I don't wanna misinterpret anything."

He couldn't misinterpret anything if he fucking tried. How you felt about him was so fucking obvious.

"Anyway," He says, quickly standing from his seat on the sofa. “I should probably go freshen up for you. Y'know, seeing as I'm about to get really lucky in the next..." He checks his watch "Thirty minutes."

He looks up from his watch, his big brown eyes falling upon you- drinking you in.

"See you out there, Princess."

────────

You were so fucking nervous. You stood off-set, watching as production set up lighting- making sure there was the right amount of brightness on the scene stage. The set was a small brick-walled room with an expensive looking black leather sofa in the middle. White shag rug underneath it and some vibrantly green foliage plants in the background.

It was reminiscent of those “casting couch” scenes that porn companies liked to shoot- but this one was classy. Not cheap and sleazy. Like it was the middle of someone’s living room- a glimpse into a private passionate moment between a couple and not just two strangers fucking. Eddie Munson was going to eat you out on that couch. The thought of it made you somehow even wetter than you already were.

Just as you were allowing yourself to get lost in the fantasy, you feel a large hand on your waist- causing you to look over to find Eddie standing next to you. Staring at you with softness in his eyes.

“Doing okay?” He asks, searching your face for any indication that you weren’t, indeed, doing okay.

“I’m okay.” You breathe shakily “Just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie whispers, leaning into you so intimately that only you could hear “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me. You’re safe with me, okay?”

And somehow those five little words felt like they’ve lifted so much weight off of your shoulders. He was right. It was just him. You could trust him.

“Okay.” You whisper, looking into his warm, brown eyes. Everything was going to be okay.

“How about this…” he starts, beginning to think “If things become too much or you need to stop, I want you to tap my arm twice. I’ll get them to cut and we’ll take a break.”

“Won’t they get mad?” You ask, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“It doesn’t matter.” He states “What matters is that you’re comfortable. This is about you, sweetheart. Without you, there’s no scene. You have the upper-hand. You are in control here. Nothing happens here that you don’t want to happen. Understand?”

“Yeah.” You nod “Okay.”

“You trust me?”

“I trust you, Eddie.”

“Good.” He nods “Because there’s nothing to worry about. If things start to get overwhelming with everyone watching just close your eyes and just focus on feeling, okay? That’s my job. To make you feel good.”

You didn’t think it was possible to be even wetter than you had been before but Eddie being sweet on you had practically opened up a floodgate inside of you. If it weren’t for the scene, you’d throw yourself at him right there.

“Well, hopefully I’m able to return the favor.” You say “I’ve never done that before…on camera.”

You were alluding to giving him a blowjob. It’s not like you haven’t given blowjobs to ex-boyfriends and casual hookups before. But this was different. You would be sucking off Eddie Munson- a man that’s probably received far too many blowjobs to count. He’s probably experienced some mind-blowing shit and there’s no way that you’d ever be able to compare to what other porn girls have been able to do to him with their mouths. You were embarrassed to even try.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, trust me. I’m not picky.” He laughs “Blowjobs are like pizza. Even when it’s not the best pizza, it’s still good because it’s pizza. Not that I expect you to be bad or anything.”

“…I don’t know if that’s supposed to be encouraging or not.” You reply, starting to retreat back into your own head.

“Sweetheart, what I’m trying to say is that it’s going to be fine. Don’t think too much about it.”

“But how could I not think about it when-“

You were cut off by Eddie grabbing for your hand, squeezing it affectionately as he looked into your eyes.

“I thought said you trusted me.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I do.” You reply hastily “I just-“

“Like I said, focus on feeling. When we get to that part, I just want you to focus on what feels right. Things will be fine. Honestly, there’s also nothing sexier than a girl that’s into it, y’know?” Eddie explains “You don’t have to be the best at something. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy doing it and I want you to enjoy yourself. ‘Kay?”

“Okay.” You nod, letting his words sink in.

“Also, sweetheart, with lips like those, I’m sure you suck cock like a champ but I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out.”

Your heart skips a beat at his dirty confession and you almost think about smacking his arm before one of the production managers approaches you.

“You’re on in five.” They say “Start stripping down and we’ll get you on set.”

You felt your blood run cold.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, voice low as he strokes your back with one of his large hands “If it gets to be too much just look at me, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the entire time.”

You take a deep breath before nodding. Eddie gives your hand another squeeze before letting you walk to take your place on set. He had successfully gotten you out of your head even just a little bit. Now Eddie just had to get himself out of his own head about cumming too soon.

────────

Eddie stands back near the camera as the director calls action. He had been watching you like a hawk, eyes peeled for any sort of sense that you were beginning to panic. He stared as you dropped your robe, handing it off before gingerly taking a seat onto the black leather sofa.

“Alright, start off slow like you normally do. Take as much time as you need. Start off with slowly taking the panties off. We’ll do some light touching, maybe some fingering. Get yourself nice and ready then Eddie’s gonna come in and take care of you.”

Hearing those words immediately felt soothing to you.

You look over towards the camera and lock eyes with Eddie. He was right there like he told you he would be. He winks at you, setting off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You began to follow directions, waiting for the director to give you the okay before you started. Then you began to do what felt right. Just like you were doing a solo masturbation scene. You began to touch and caress your body, getting yourself worked up as you got into the scene.

You began with your breasts, reaching your hands up as you began to knead them through the red lacy bra that you had chosen for this scene- something that made you feel sexy and confident. In your head you began to repeat it like a mantra.

You were sexy and confident.

You are sexy.

You are confident.

You could do this.

You push your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the lace bra and you gasped at the feeling. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to be in the moment and just feel. Just like Eddie had told you.

Eddie, on the other side of the set, was watching. His eyes were hyper-fixated on every little thing. The way your soft hands roamed your supple body and you tossed your head back in pleasure as you teased yourself. He was too far away but he was sure that you were letting out the tiniest little moans as you touched and squeezed and felt your sexy body with gentle hands.

Eddie had been halfway hard all morning but now his cock was starting to respond to every little thing you did. Every pinch, every grasp, every flick of your fingers against your tits. He could’ve sworn that it was starting to get hot in there and your bra wasn’t even off yet.

“Okay, honey, start to naturally drift down more. Get to the panties and take them off. We want it nice and slow, alright? Tease the camera.”

Tease the camera? Eddie definitely won’t be lasting long enough for the planned cum shot if you kept going on like that. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. He didn’t want to immediately gain a reputation for finishing fast even when he had so much pornographic proof out there that he wasn’t a fast shooter. You were the first girl in the industry that made him worry that he was going to finish in his pants as soon as he got a taste of you.

Nevertheless, your hands began to drag down, lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your panties. Red lace just like the bra. You didn’t even have to feel yourself to know that you were ready to go. You knew as soon as you had locked your eyes on Eddie from where he stood off-set that you were going to be drenched. But your right hand still delved into your panties, swiping at your folds as you felt just how wet you were.

Eddie watched, heart pounding as he stared at your hand down your little red panties-playing with your sopping wet core until you slowly removed your fingers. Drawing them out to reveal a thin coating of your arousal. Eddie’s breath hitched as your eyes bore into him. You were staring at him. Your gaze was locked in on him. All of this was for him.

You bring your slick fingers to your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you popped them into your mouth, sucking them nice and clean.

Fuck, you dirty girl….

Eddie’s dick begins to strain against his jeans at the action. God, was he ready to find out what you tasted like. He couldn’t take the teasing and direct eye-contact for much longer. He was so fucking ready for you.

Meeting the expectations of the director, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, seductively shimmying your hips as you pulled them down tantalizingly slow- agonizingly slow. Eddie watches with greedy eyes.

You laid back onto the sofa, panties wrapped around your thighs as you begin to lift your legs up, pulling the wet lacy fabric the rest of the way down your legs that were lifted slightly into the air- giving the camera a nice view of your pussy. Thighs pressed together in a way that had Eddie staring hungrily. He wanted so badly to sink down to his knees and hold those legs up like that as he ate you. The sight was mesmerizing.

After the lacy panties were off, you flung them across the set- right in Eddie's direction and he swore he saw a cute little smirk on your face when you did it. God, you were so naughty- and he was going to teach you a lesson.

"Okay, honey, now lay back on the couch. Spread your legs. Great! Perfect! Can we get some finger action in there?"

Eddie realizes just how well you follow directions as your body melts into the back of the couch, bringing your legs up onto it as you open them for the camera- spreading them open for everyone to see and, god, it was a fucking sight that was so fucking unholy. Yet, Eddie couldn't look away. Not when you were bare and spread out in front of him for his eyes to feast upon. That gorgeous body, those lace-clad tits, that glistening wet pussy. You were going to fucking kill him.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any hotter, you looked off near the camera- eyes trained on his as you used your fingers to spread yourself open for him. He could have passed out right there.

Fuck, he was really gonna give it to you.

He was going to devour every fucking inch of that tight little pussy until you were screaming. Fuck the cameras, fuck the scene, fuck everyone who was watching. They didn't matter. All that mattered was what he wanted to fucking do to you.

Your fingers began to tease your hole as you glided them up and down your slit. You were so fucking wet that it was making Eddie weak in the knees. Your sopping wet pussy was none other than a holy altar in which he wanted to bow down and worship. Eddie wasn't religious but you were a fucking goddess that he would devote his entire fucking life praying to if you let him.

You began to play with yourself, using your fingers to rub your needy little clit in slow circles. You threw your head back against the back of the sofa as you close your eyes. Focusing on feeling. Making yourself feel good. Getting yourself nice and wet for Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie fucking Munson with his huge fucking cock and his soft-looking lips and those big brown eyes. How he made you feel. So cared for, so safe. Your fingers begin to work your clit a bit rougher. You had seen him on screen so many times fucking so many girls and now it was finally going to be you. His head between your thighs. His tongue in your folds. Sucking on your clit. It was getting you so fucking worked up.

You insert two fingers into your pussy as you begin to fuck them into yourself. You let your mind take over, moans tumbling from your lips as you try to fuck yourself with your fingers as deep as you can- wanting to hit that spot within yourself that had you curling your toes.

You shove them as deep as you go, trying to reach it but you just couldn’t. It felt like something was missing. But you kept trying. It felt good, of course it did, but you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Like you were struggling. Now you were beginning to wonder if closing your eyes and thinking about Eddie was what did you in.

You had no issues in the past with using your fingers on yourself to get the relief you needed but now they just felt inadequate. As if they suddenly weren’t enough. It was so odd. Was Eddie jinxing you? Were you maybe more nervous than you originally thought? Were you-

“Alright, honey, how are we doing?” The director asks, bellowing out to you from behind the camera. “You look good, babe. Gorgeous. We’re going to add Eddie in. Are you ready?”

You look over at Eddie as he begins to strip off his shirt, his brown curls still tied back in a low bun. As he removes his t-shirt, you can’t help but stare- zoning in on his sexy, toned body. He was so fucking hot. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more turned on by him, he looks up at you- making sure that you were okay. That you were comfortable.

You both lock eyes, staring at each other with so much sexual tension that the whole room could probably feel it. You wanted Eddie Munson so bad- his body, his mouth, this hands touching all over you. You wanted him so bad that your body felt hot to the touch. He had been your industry crush for so long and now you were going to have his mouth on you- tasting you.

You give the director the okay, still spread out on the couch. As Eddie prepares to join you on-set, he can’t help the way that his eyes wander over your beautiful body. Your perky tits, your long legs, your pretty face, your sexy curves- but, most of all, your glistening wet sex. You were practically dripping with arousal as he shamelessly stared at you- the most gorgeous angel he’s ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t even gotten his mouth on you yet and he knew that he was in for trouble.

“Alright, you’re on.” The director nods towards him, giving Eddie his cue. It was the moment that he had been thinking about for hours.

His hardened cock was surely very noticeable beneath his black jeans. He could’ve sworn that there was so much blood rushing to his dick that he would pass out from the sheer lack of it being anywhere else in his body- and it was only getting worse with the way that you were looking at him. As if he were the most delectable man on the planet. Which, you would have to admit, was pretty accurate.

Your eyes stay glued to him and the pure fucking sex god that he is as he crosses onto the set, introducing himself to the scene. You loved the way that the black denim of his jeans hugged his waist. You loved the silver chain that dangled against his right hip as he strode over to you. You loved the soft tufts of dark hair that made up the happy trail leading down into the waistband of his pants. Eddie Munson was a fucking dream. He was a king- and you wanted to be his queen.

“Hey, you.” He whispers, eyes on you as he sinks down onto his knees in front of you “Doing okay? Not nervous?”

He was checking on you. Fuck, there was no way this man could be any hotter.

“I’m okay.” You whisper back “Just a little overwhelmed.”

The way that Eddie looked at you with those chocolate brown eyes made you want to melt.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice still low enough for only you to hear- sharing this intimate moment with you only.

“Just a little.” You answer. You were trying not to focus on your nerves but you could feel the space that they occupied in your body.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and relax. I’m here to take care of you.” He says, his eyes warm “Remember what I said? If it gets to be too much just focus on me. Just forget that anyone’s even here. Okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper back, staring at him as you nod.

“Good.” He says “Now, how can I help you get comfortable? What do you need? Hm?”

God, he was making you so wet…

“….I….I, uh, can you use-“ You immediately felt embarrassed, your face flushes as you try to look away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey…” He tsks “Eyes on me. Look at me, angel.” He reaches for you, taking your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger- guiding you to look at him. “Tell me what you want. It’s just you and me here. It’s just us. Okay?”

“Okay.” You bite your lip, nodding along.

“Say it.” He demands, maintaining eye contact “I want to hear you say it. Need to know that you’re with me. That it’s just me and you in this room right now. Nobody else. Just us, okay? Tell me.”

“I….It’s just us.” You breathe, your body feeling as if it were on fire from the intimacy “You and me. No one else.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just you and me. Now, tell me, what….do you….need?”

What did you need?

“You, Eddie. I need you.” You gasp lightly, causing his lips to form into a smirk.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks “Gotta use your words or I won’t be able to understand.”

“I want….I need you to kiss me. Please?”

Eddie lets of a short, low growl from the back of his throat as his hands fly to your waist, grasping tightly as he jerked you towards him- wanting you closer.

“C’mere, baby.” He rasps, straightening his body to become level with yours before he uses one of his large hands to grab the back of your neck- pulling you into a rough, hungry kiss that was so intense that it could have knocked the air out of you.

And Eddie fucking Munson was an amazing kisser.

The way that his lips slotted and molded against yours. The way that his mouth moved against yours as he nipped and licked and sucked at your bottom lip. The way that he slid his tongue into your mouth as if you belonged to him- causing you to want him to make you his.

You moaned into his mouth as his tongue fought for dominance against yours, taking your breath away with how desperate he was to kiss you harder and more passionately than he already was- if that were even possible.

How hands were all over. Grabbing your waist, his fingertips trailing up and down your back in delicate touches. The way that his thumb slipped underneath the clasp of your bra. He pulled his thumb back to stretch out the band then released it to let it snap back against your soft skin- earning him a surprised gasp.

He removes his lips from yours, beginning to pepper light kisses along your jawline before trailing his lips down your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as he kisses down the column of your throat and then back up- working his way over until he began nibbling on your ear. You thought you were dreaming when he whispered in your ear.

“Can I take your tits out?”

You probably seemed needy and desperate as you fervently nodded your approval. You worried that you probably looked pathetic but, to Eddie, there was nothing hotter than seeing how worked up you were getting.

“P-please.” You mutter, voice coming out breathy and shaky.

“Mmm…good girl. Wanna look at those pretty tits when I fuck you with my fingers.”

You let out a startled squeak at his filthy works, causing him to grin.

“Fuck, sweetheart, does that turn you on? Listening to me tell you that I wanna put my fingers in you? Hm? That I wanna stuff you full?”

“Fuck, Eddie…” You moan.

“God, sweetheart, you’re already moaning my name and I haven’t even touched you yet. So needy for me. I fucking love it.”

He reaches both hands around to your bra clasp, expertly popping it open and removing it as if it were the easiest thing on earth. To him, it probably was. He’s probably taken off so many girl’s bras that he could do it with his eyes closed.

He pulled the bra off, taking it in his large hand before flinging it somewhere on the set. Not that it mattered. As hot as it was, it was getting in the way of what he really wanted. Your tits in his mouth.

“Mmm fuck, baby.” He groans, staring lovingly at your gorgeous chest- your hardened nipples. “You are so goddamn pretty, angel. So beautiful. Can I put my mouth on them?”

“Please.” You moan, arching your back in order to bring your tits closer to his face. Eddie chuckles at your eagerness.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He laughs “You want me to put them in my mouth? Yeah? These sweet fucking titties….”

He keeps one hand on your waist while the other snakes up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your boob as he squeezes it in his hand.

“So fucking soft, honey. So warm…..so perfect.” He teases, voice low and seductive. “Perfect little tits. Want me to put them in my face? Suck on your perky little nipples? Fuck, they’re so hard for me.”

You don’t know what came over you but you instinctively grasp at Eddie’s hand that was left grabbing your waist as you draw it up and onto your other breast, wanting him to have two handfuls of you.

“Look at you, sweet girl. You want both my hands paying attention to your tits? So bossy.” He tsks “Could’ve just asked. But that’s okay. I’m gonna give you what you want. But you’re gonna have to do something for me too.”

You look at him with curiosity in your eyes. You had no idea what he was going to ask you. Truth be told, it made you a little nervous.

“Since both my hands are full, sweetness, I’m gonna need you to use yours to play with your pussy for me. Think you can do that for me? Hm?”

Fuck

You stare at him as he surveys your body, now fully nude in front of him. God, you were a beautiful sight.

“Okay.” You squeak out, nodding your head.

“Atta girl.” He whispers “That’s my good girl. Now start rubbing your clit.”

────────

To Be Continued in Part 2…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed part one. Sorry that I cut it short, I didn’t want to make the fic too long and I also wanted to get it out before I left for vacation next week. I feel like I’ve already held this back from you all long enough. Please excuse any spelling errors. I’ll go back and edit later

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The night was in full swing. The stench of beer coated patches of the now sticky floors, a sea of red solo cups flooded the kitchen bench, bodies sprawled across couches in a tangle of limbs, people dancing inside or throwing up in the garden, or some spread out and chatting in their cliques while they weren’t yet inebriated. To say your house was a fucking mess was an understatement. It looked like the aftermath of a world war embodied by the pure chaos that a Friday night’s effect had on your classmates. Costumes were creative, slightly bizarre or just about as generic as you could think of. You had started overlooking the anarchy about 30 minutes prior; while you cracked open another can of sweet rum in an effort to distance yourself further from reality.

As you made your way back towards the living room, you spotted a mop of dark curls and denim, a sight you were familiar with at other previous parties. He however, was not here on pleasure, it was always strictly business. The jocks liked to spice up their weekends with underage drinking and a little bit of experimentation, and what better person to go to when in need of supply, than the town freak Eddie Munson.

As you were about to walk past him, ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ began to play; a personal favourite of yours. Eddie’s ears perked up, a highly unusual type of music to be playing at a house party full of popular small town kids. Perhaps he was drunker than he originally thought? He was only there to make a quick buck doing a few deals, and then make himself scarce, but now, he was curious to who the culprit was.

He couldn’t help his amusement, “Finally a house party with good music,” he spoke aloud, aimed at nobody in particular.

You overheard him as you were passing him and flashed a grin, adding, “Oh god, tell me about it, Halloween is the only time of year these assholes somewhat tolerate my music taste and let me play it. The way I would kill to use a Metallica song for one of our cheer routines.” You kept walking while looking back at him, taking pride in the way his eyes widen as he attempts to stop choking on his beer. His reaction had you laughing.

“H-hey, woah, hold on!” He catches up to you, a wild disbelieving look still on his face. He absorbed the image of you in front of him, clad in an uncharacteristically darker get up than what he usually saw you in at school. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be caught dead interacting with anyone from the basketball or cheer team, but he was ready to make an exception for you. He had half prepared himself for a humiliating rejection, but your kind eyes spoke for themselves. You understood him more than he ever knew, that the rumours that spread amongst a small town of equally small minds, was bound to be taken with a grain of salt. Or several. You did your own research on Hellfire. They were just kids playing a fantasy tabletop game. As for heavy metal, it was in your blood. You grew up with it and fell in love, because it’s not afraid to be real, the same thing that you had noticed possessed Eddie. You quickly came to the conclusion that he was just a normal guy, who was unapologetically himself, and had his little community of like-minded souls.

“What is the princess of Hawkins High, doing listening to heavy metal?” He interrogated. You took a step closer to him, so you could smell the faint odour of his cologne and smoke that stuck to his clothes.

“I grew up with metalhead parents and I am still in love with it. I like its raw power and authenticity,” you replied simply.

“Sweetheart, you keep talking like that and I’m gonna drop to one knee and propose.” He jokingly warned, but he looked partially serious.

“Tempting. If you did though, I wouldn’t say no,” you fired back, a small smirk forming at the groan he let out.

“H-holy shit. I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he wheezed out, making you laugh.

“And you’re funny? What a man you are, Munson. I think I’ll keep you,” you said. Maybe it was the alcohol warming the blood in your veins, but the room seemed to disappear into the background, as if the only two people left on the entire planet were you and Eddie. The night continued like this as you both kept the conversation alive, never seeming to run out of things to chat about. The both of you had made your way outside, to stare at the night sky, while the buzz around you had died down. Whether that was from people passing out or being dragged out by their designated drivers on curfews. A comfortable silence had settled between the two of you.

“You know, I never believed the rumors people spread about you,” you said, tone shifting, while he turned his full attention on you, “like, DnD is just a roleplaying game that gained a bad rap because of some bullshit the God-fearing mothers made up. The exact same way that the Ouija board was literally supposed to be a game for children before the Exorcist was released and ruined it.” His lack of response caught your attention this time, and your gaze wandered over to find his already on you, a soft and vulnerable heaviness in the pits of his deep brown eyes.

“Yeah, it sucks, but, it is what it is. You get used to it after a while. So long as the people who are important know the truth, that’s really all that matters,” he spoke in defeat. You sympathised with him. It was shit that he was subject to such harsh comments. And they weren’t just from students at school, it went beyond, to the adults and even authorities. His last name had a reputation, you knew that, and you felt bad for him. It wasn’t fair that he had to endure that every single day, and from almost every single person.

“No, you shouldn’t have to put up with any of that, regardless of your kooky interests or how you dress, or even your last name,” you said firm. A thought popped into your head that made you chuckle, “This is incredibly weird of me to say since I know we don’t interact all that much, but if we were to get married, I would happily take your last name. And all of its implications, if it meant that it would get people to see how much of sweetheart you actually are.” He raised his eyebrows in shock at your forwardness.

“Uh- princess, you can’t say things like that,” he whined.

“And why not?” You noticed his fidgeting, the metal of his rings clacking together.

“Because I swear to God, I will follow through with them,” he said pathetically, giving you his sad, wet puppy eyes. There weren’t very many people who were as kind to him as you have proven yourself to be.

“Hey now, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you slyly responded, nudging his shoulder with yours, “but, I’m serious. There is no reason you should ever be treated the way you are. The Hellfire boys are so lucky that they have you to lean on when they need, but I have to ask; who’s doing that for you? Because you deserve that same support too.” You looked at him again, as he tried to blink away his glassy eyes. Your words cut him deep. Who was there to truly support him? His father was a dead beat who only ever made his appearances when he needed something, and didn’t care if that meant he’d exploit his own son and potentially risk his life to get it. His mother was dead, and more than that he had nothing left of her after a fire took her remaining belongings, and his uncle Wayne was doing his absolute best to raise him, provide for him, but that proved to be difficult with opposing schedules and only seeing each other in passing. You’d hit the nail on the head, and that was terrifying.

You noticed he was lost in thought and spoke much softer, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I’ve overstepped, I didn’t mean to, I just-,” he stopped your anxious ramble.

“No, it’s okay, it’s just… nobody else has ever…picked up on that before,” he frowned. His throat felt tight.

“I guess I’m just observant of things and people that fascinate me. But, either way, I just want you to know you have my support.” You said, taking his hand in yours, looping your fingers together and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me,” he mumbled into your hair. You moved your head to make eye contact with him, and he began to lean in towards you. You smiled in understanding, and closed the distance. His lips were slightly dry, yet plush and soft, and they fit perfectly with yours. He could taste the strawberry balm that coated your lips, tongue poking to get more. You gladly allowed him access, and he moaned at the contact of your tongue against his. You pulled away gently.

“You know what I just realised?” you whispered and he hummed, “that this is likely gonna be our first and last kiss, because when my parents get back in the morning, I’m cooked. They’re gonna fucking annihilate me.” His head tilted back as he laughed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let Jason bribe me into using my house for this shit,” you shook your head through laughs, “but that’s alright, I’ll send my mother after him too,” you sighed, as he chuckled, pulling you into his chest. You’d cross that bridge when it comes. For now, Eddie was all that truly mattered to you.  

However, other people weren’t as appreciative of your yapping. They actually found it to be quite annoying and would blatantly tell you so. Growing up, you’d heard numerous family members comment on your habit. You remember one such instance of a family gathering in which you were surrounded by family members. You remember the conversation diverging to movies which began your passionate yapping. You loved movies. They were always a passion of yours and you loved to share any movie knowledge or recommendations with others. During the middle of your talking, one of your uncles interrupted, “I swear every time I see this girl, she’s always running her mouth.”

Immediately, you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Your face became flushed in embarrassment and suddenly, it felt like the entire room was watching you. You felt the insecurity began to creep in and slither into your veins. Had you been talking too much? Was everyone annoyed? Of course, they’re annoyed! This is what you always do. 

You talk too much. 

You can’t go one minute without running your mouth. 

You’re so annoying and no one wants to be around you.

You felt the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you quickly willed them back. Your voice became quieter during the family gathering. You shrunk yourself further and further inside of yourself. The insecurities were swarming around your head like incessant gnats. You quietly manuvered the environment until you left your room and sat in your bedroom until everyone left. That night, you felt your heart beating faster and faster in your chest, as your mind wondered if you were being a nuisance to your family with your talking. 

So you made an executive decision: you just wouldn’t talk at all. 

Problem solved, right? No. Of course not. Any Black household knows that you’re not allowed to be silent without it being a problem for the general consensus. You felt that your plan was righteous and justified. If everyone had a problem with your talking, then you’d cease to do the thing that was burdening them. You could still hear the insecurities float through your mind as another family gathering was planned. 

At the family gathering, you were more aware of your behavior. Quaint. Demure. But most of all, quiet. Though it made you angsty to not be included in the conversations with your family, you figured that this was for the best. You thought you were being subtle in your behavior, but of course, there always had to be someone who noticed. 

You couldn’t recall if it had been an aunt or a cousin, but you remembered the sound of your name being called followed by the question, “Why aren’t you talking?” 

Immediately, you felt a sudden rage boil through you. First, you were being told that you talked too much and that you were annoying. Next, you were being called upon to explain your silence. It felt like you couldn’t win in a losing battle. 

As you grew older, you learned to care less and less about the opinions of others. You didn’t need to justify yourself to them. You had just as much of a right to express your passions, and you wouldn’t let anyone shame you for it. 

The right person, your person, wouldn’t mind your talking at all. In fact, they would find it so endearing that they would love to hear the sound of your voice, and they would find comfort in hearing your words, even if they were mindless rambles. 

At your current age, you were sure that you had found your person. 

Michael Bakari Jordan. 

Sexiest man alive. Certified nerd. 

It was funny how you met Michael. It was a casual day, in a random shop that sold various media forms of anime. Growing up, your love of cinema, translated over to animated movies and cartoons. You respected the art of a good cartoon just as much as any live action movie. People who stated that anime was for kids truly didn’t know what masterpieces they were missing out on. They’d never know the sheer excitement that came from watching Goku turn Super Saiyan for the first time. They’d never experience the heartbreak from watching Tetsuo be consumed by his hatred and rage in Akira, or even feel the binding love that transcends time between Howl and Sophie. 

Naturally, you were in this store on this fated day that you met the man. You casually sipped your iced coffee and browsed through the collections of manga and vintage VHS tapes. Through your excitement with the prospect of purchasing one of these pieces of art, you neglected to watch where you were going, which led to you colliding into solid mass. Your drink splashed partly onto the hoodie of the other person, who reached out to quickly steady you. 

Looking up, your concerned eyes met another set of deep brown ones, “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I ruined your hoodie!” 

Quickly, you rummaged through your purse and found your stash of napkins. Without thinking, you grabbed the man’s art where the drink had splashed and dabbed the napkin into the soaked fabric. A few minutes passed of you doing this before you realized what you were doing. A blush crept up your neck before you let go of the mystery man’s arm. “I’m sorry. First, I ruin your hoodie and then I started rubbing your arm like some creep.” 

The man in front of you chuckled and shook his head, “You good, ma.” 

As you looked closer into the man’s face, you immediately recognized him more. Groaning and running your hand across your face, “I hope you don’t think that was some weird way of me trying to touch you.”

Michael laughed more at your embarrassed expression, “I mean when you put it like that, it would be a good method. But don’t sweat it, I’ve had way weirder interactions with fans trying to get my attention.” 

“Well, at least, let me pay for the dry cleaning for your hoodie. It’s the least that I could do.” You offered, pointing at the stained hoodie. 

Michael shook his head at you, “Nah, you don’t gotta worry about that. It was an accident anyways. I think it was on me just as much as it was you. I wasn’t paying attention either which means I owe you an apology for making you waste your coffee.”

“It’s okay. I guess we both were just engrossed in the content. We can call it even,” you said reaching your hand out to Michael. Grabbing your hand in his, Michael shook it and smiled at you. Your heart began to beat faster when you took in the man’s deep dimples. You pulled your hand back to not appear thirsty in front of you. 

“It was nice to meet you. I’ll let you get back to your browsing. Sorry again about the hoodie.” You said, turning to continue your journey. You didn’t look back at Michael for a response and started your journey into the 80’s and 90’s section of anime. You picked up a copy of Perfect Blue and smiled to yourself. Michael, on the other hand, was stunned by how quickly his interaction ended with you. He was used to people feening for his attention and hogging it when he finally decided to give it to them. But not you. You had turned away from him and continued with your shopping like he was just another regular guy. He liked it. He liked that in that moment, you treated him like another guy. 

He craved the normality of it all. He was so used to having his every move be analyzed by people. Having fans fawn over your every move was nice, but sometimes, he just craved to have another person just see him as normal. In his eyes, he was a regular guy. Albeit, a man with many box office hits under his belt, but a certified nerd at the end of the day. Gazing over at you from the corner of the store, he saw you intensely locked onto the 80s-90s anime section. Your beautiful face was scrunched in concentration, and he could tell that you were genuinely locked in. 

Carefully crossing the store, he stood next to you and pretended to browse the section. Your fingers carefully slid over the titles until you landed on one and pulled it out with an excited squeal. Michael chuckled and it seemed to be only at that point that you noticed that he was standing there. You made eye contact and smiled at each other. 

“What you got there?” Michael asked, tilting his head to the side to gaze at the title of the movie.

Immediately your eyes lit up as if a spark was ignited. “Perfect Blue. You ever seen it?” You questioned, holding out the tape to Michael. Michael shook your head and you scoffed slightly, “I’m sorry Mr. Naruto hasn’t seen one of the most iconic animated movies of all time?” You both laughed as you waved your hands around to empahsize your point.

“I can’t say that I have. What’s it about?” That simple question alone sent you into an entire lecture about the plot of the movie, along with prominent themes that most people would miss on their first viewing experience. You further elaborated on design choices and colors present in the movie. It was like you were a well of knowledge and your passion for the movie really shone throught. It was only when you realized that you were still rambling while Michael hadn’t said anything. The intense look on his face said that he was completely locked into every word that you were saying.

There was a flare of insecurity that coursed through you, as you wondered if you were embarrassing yourself in front of your celebrity crush. How were you going to give off mysterious and sexy if you continued to ramble?

“Sorry. I get carried away sometimes, especially if it’s a movie that I like,” You said sheepishly. 

“Don’t apologize for that. Ever. It’s cute seeing you get all lit up about your passions, and I can tell you’re actually interested in this and not just on a surface level.” Michael said, staring into your eyes. For a moment, the two of you held eye contact before you broke it.

You handed the VHS tape over to Michael, “You should take it. I think you’ll really like it.” 

As you handed the tapes over to Michael, your hands brushed against one another. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach, and suddenly, you were transported back to the feeling of when you had a crush as a child. 

“I should let you go. I hope you enjoy the movie,” you said, turning to leave again. 

Michael watched as you moved to go to the door. He felt something shift inside of himself, and there was that distinct feeling that he shouldn’t let you go. He felt that if he let you leave out of that door, he’d never get a chance to see you again. Michael wasn’t one for just random chances, but he believed in fate, and he believed that some force had dropped you into his life for a reason. 

He quickly jogged up to you and grabbed your wrist. You turned to him in surprise, “How will I be able to tell you that I liked the movie?” Okay..not his best pickup line, but with you, he felt like he didn’t need some suave pickup line. 

“I guess I didn’t think about it like that. Well, maybe you just post it on your Instagram and thank the random girl who threw her coffee drink on you for the recommendation.” You joked, waving your empty coffee cup around. 

“I could do that, or I could take you to get another cup of coffee, and you give me more anime recommendations. Then, if the coffee goes well, I get your number so that I can tell you just how much I liked the movie.” Michael suggested, searching your eyes. 

Wait.

Was Michael B. Jordan asking you out for coffee and asking for your number?

This must be one of those dreams that you have on a random weekday, and you wake up with a distinct longing in your chest as it dissipates. However, as you came back to the present moment and noted the longing in Michael’s eyes, you concluded that it was all real. 

You nodded your head and flashed him a smile.

Those simple gestures would cement your place in Michael’s life from that day forward.

_____________________________

Over ten months later, you had officially become Michael B. Jordan’s hot nerdy girlfriend. After your initial coffee outing, you and Michael had texted frequently throughout the following weeks. He had sat down to watch Perfect Blue and couldn’t resist the urge to immediately text you to give his review of the movie. 

Next, he recommended a show to you. 

Then you would recommend a show or movie to him. You’d both immediately text the other to debrief on shocking moments or even themes that you noticed. You both were meticulous with your planning and recommendations for each other. 

It had become an official love language between the two of you, even though you weren’t even dating. 

Texts turned into phone calls. Phone calls turned into FaceTimes. FaceTimes turned into dates. Dates into intimacy. Intimacy, in turn, became the foundation for a healthy friendship and relationship. You had never felt more comfortable and safer in a relationship than the one that you crafted with Michael. 

He was your ‘Kari, and you were his Princess. A nickname that came from his favorite animated movie, Princess Mononoke. 

Here was another thing. Michael loved to listen to you talk. He loved to see you get lost in a passionate rant about things that interested you. You were naturally curious and always researching, so it was only natural that you wanted to share your new knowledge with him. He’d sit patiently across from you and give soft ‘mhmms” to show that he was listening, and would even ask follow-up questions. He’d sit there with this sweet, love-struck look on his face as he watched the corners of your eyes crinkle as you spoke. It was always refreshing to hear you speak. 

Any other man would’ve been quick to point out your habit, but Michael had never given you an indication that he was irritated or annoyed with you. He just sat and listened. You could almost cry at the safe space that he had created for you to express yourself freely. 

As with the good, there always comes the bad. 

And your bad just happened to come on a random Wednesday of all the days. 

You often spent a lot of time at Michael’s house rather than your own rented apartment. It wasn’t anything intentional on your part, but you just naturally ended up at Michael’s house. He had practically moved half of your stuff into his house without you noticing. All of your favorite products had their own designated space within his bathroom. He had even unconsciously started to pick up your designated pads and tampons in case you ever started your period over the house. He knew that you preferred to have the thick pads with the wings. (Sorry to all the Thin Mint pads girlies–no shade). Even when he went grocery shopping, he found himself picking up certain products that he knew you liked to eat when you came over. Shoot, Michael had even bought your favorite bonnet that sat permanently in the drawer next to his durag. 

If that wasn’t love, then you didn’t know what was. 

It started on Wednesday, Michael and his homeboy, Jones, were sitting in the game room, playing Call of Duty. You were in the other room, running your mouth with your homegirl. Your laugh could be heard through the crack of the door. You maneuvered past the door and went to grab snacks for Michael and Jones. You did not doubt that they had run through their acquired snacks already. 

As you walked up the stairs, the crack in the door let you in on the conversation that was happening between your man and his friend. You stopped at the door as you heard Jones say your name. 

“Dang man, your girl know she can run her mouth. You don’t ever get tired of all that yapping,” Jones said, continuing to press the buttons of the control, as if he wasn’t insulting you.

It wasn’t Michael’s friend’s comment that bothered you. It was the fact that he didn’t immediately jump in to defend you. It was his response that opened Pandora’s box of your insecurities.

“I mean…yeah man, it can be a little too much at times. But that’s just her personality.” 

Too much.

A little too much.

You felt the tightness enter your chest, and the panic started to overcome your senses. Tears filled your eyes, but you took a deep breath and willed them away. You were not about to be caught crying with Doritos and Dr. Pepper in your hand. 

You composed your expression and knocked on the door. Michael and Jones both looked back at you as you entered the room. 

“Hey baby,” Michael said, leaning over and placing a kiss on your head as you passed him the snacks. 

“Thank you, I swear we ran through the snacks as soon as we started the game,” He said, continuing to press buttons on the controller. Jones quickly thanked you before locking back into the game.

Clearing your throat, you turned back to Michael, “Hey, imma head out. I’ll see you later.” 

Michael quickly turned and looked at you with a frown on his face, “I thought you were staying over tonight.” 

“Umm..I can’t. I forgot that I gotta go run some errands in the morning.” 

Michael frowned at you more, “I can just drive you there.” 

“Nah, it’s good. It’s with the girls anyway.” You lied. Truthfully, you had planned to spend the weekend with him, but the little conversation put a damper on those plans. 

Michael continued to eye you. He felt like there was something off, especially since you wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Okay, well, text me when you get home.” He pulled you down and pressed his lips against yours. Instead of the usual deep kiss that you would give him, you quickly ended the kiss. As you turned to leave, Michael gently grasped your wrist, “You good?” 

Quickly, you nodded. “Alright, I love you, Princess,” Michael said, looking into your eyes.

“Yep, love you too,” You said quickly before turning to leave.

As he turned back to the game, there was something in his intuition that told him that something was off with you. Jones cut his eyes at him, “You and your girl fightin’ or something?”

“Nah, man, she was all good when she came over here,” Michael said, racking his brain for the answer.

“She on her period or somethin'?” 

“Nah, her period won’t be here until next week.” 

Jones pressed the pause button and turned to him, “Nigga you keep track of her periods?”

Michael laughed and nodded his head, “Yeah, man, that’s my girl. I love her. And let’s backtrack on that earlier comment, don’t be talkin about my girl running her mouth. She can talk just as much as she wants to, especially around here. Sure, you may think it’s a lot, but I love that about her. She’s expressing what she’s passionate about, and the fact that she wants to share that with me means the world.” 

Jones nodded, “My bad, man. I didn’t mean it like that, but still, I’m sorry.”

With that, they both returned to their game while Michael’s mind was still preoccupied with figuring out what was wrong with you.

_____________________

After you left Michael’s house, you spiralled. 

Your mind became preoccupied with all of the times that you had rambled around Michael. Had he been pretending all of those times when he listened to you talk? Was he secretly thinking that it was too much the entire time, but just too polite to say it aloud? 

As the thoughts continued to go through your head, you felt the tears from before begin to surface. Before you knew it, sobs radiated through your empty apartment. You stood in the middle of your living room, all alone with your insecurities. 

You moved to your bedroom and picked out a simple, oversized T-Shirt to sleep in. You lay in the middle of the bed and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. You felt your phone buzz beside you and noted Michael’s name on the screen.

Kari

Hey, did you make it home? 

You looked at the screen and locked it again. You didn’t have the energy to pretend that everything was okay, so you turned over and went to sleep.

Your heart felt even heavier as you pondered if you would ever have a moment where you didn’t feel like this. Where you didn’t feel like you were too much.

______________________________

Saturday came and went without Michael hearing your voice. You had responded to his text messages, but even your replies were off. You weren’t texting with the same amount of excitement as before. It was a lot drier. Michael continued to rack his brain for a possible explanation of something that he did, and each time, he came back blank. 

When Sunday came, he made the executive decision to drive over to your apartment. He picked up your favorite flowers, along with your go-to order from the cafe that you liked. He knocked on the door and waited for you to answer.

You answered the door, and to the normal eye, you looked normal. You were still your usual beautiful self, but to Michael, you looked off. He could tell that there was something off in your demeanor, even as he leaned down to kiss you. Closing the door, you grabbed the flowers from his hand while thanking him. You quickly put distance between you and Michael and worked on putting the flowers in a vase. 

You continued to shape the stems to your liking and arranged them in the vase. Throughout this time, you had yet to meet Michael’s eyes. He reached across the island to touch your hand. Finally, you looked up at him, but continued to steel your expression.

“Is everything okay, Princess?” He asked, moving around the island to stand in front of him. 

You nodded stiffly, “Yeah, I’m just not feeling good.” 

Michael’s expression softened as he pulled you closer into his chest. A few tears escaped your eyes, and you were quick to wipe them away. 

“You need me to run out and get anything? Soup? Heating pads? Medicine?” Poor Michael, he just assumed that you not feeling good meant that your period had started earlier than expected. 

“No, can we just sit and watch TV?” You asked in a small voice. 

Michael nodded and guided you to sit down. He pulled you closer to his chest and handed you your coffee to sip. While you watched TV, your body relaxed into Michael’s arms, but your brain continued to run rampant with insecurity.

Michael looked down and noticed you staring off into space. Whatever you were dealing with, it wasn’t just simple menstrual cramps. It was something more, and he was determined to find out. 

In that moment, he wished that he had superpowers so that he could see inside your pretty head and make it all better. 

______________________________

In the following weeks, you and Michael returned somewhat to your normal routine, but there was still something off with your behavior. You spent less and less time at Michael’s house and more at your own apartment. It wouldn’t have been noticeable at first to any random person, but for Michael, he noticed everything.

He noticed how you had slowly started moving your items from his home. Graphic tees that sat next to his were removed one by one. That loud hair dryer that you had brought over 3 years ago was removed from the bathroom. The groceries that he had bought were untouched and unopened. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back and confirmed Michael’s suspicions of you removing your things was that your trusted bonnet no longer sat beside his durag. 

Yeah, something was definitely wrong here. 

His immediate thoughts went to the fact that you were planning to break up with him, but he questioned why. Things were going well between the two of you. Were you seeing something that he wasn’t? He had even been working up the nerve to ask you to move in with him. Had even gone to get an extra copy of his keys to put on a special keychain for you.

But if you were planning to break up with him, had he missed the signs leading up to this? 

He looked over at you sitting across from him on the other couch. You were multitasking between working on a project for work and watching the episodes of Mitchiko and Hatchin, even though you had seen them more than you could count. 

He called your name, and you looked at him in surprise, “Come here for a second.” 

Like a baby deer, you took hesitant footsteps toward him until you were standing in front of you. Sitting up, he ran his hands up your legs until they reached your thighs. He pulled you forward until you were straddling his thighs. He could feel your body begin to tense up, but he rubbed his hands across your body and felt you melt more into his touch.

“What’s going on, Princess? You’ve been quiet lately and more withdrawn. Was it something that I did?” Michael asked, searching your eyes and pleading for an answer. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him and stared deeply into his eyes. You could see concern paint the corners of his irises, yet you still couldn’t bring your lips to tell him. It was as if you said it–told him what you had heard, then it made it real. It made it concrete, and you were terrified of what it meant if you had the conversation. Would he finally tell you all of his true feelings about you and explain that he actually was exhausted at hearing you talk all the time? Would he do that thing where he hinted at wanting to break up, but danced around, actually saying the words?

You were afraid to journey down either of those paths. 

So you lied. Well, only partly.

“No, uh, I’ve just been having a couple of off weeks. You know, bad brain days and all that.” The way you said it, all constricted and stiff, let Michael know that you were only partially telling the truth. Over the course of your ten-month relationship, he had learned to read all of your tells. 

Clearly, there was something wrong that you didn’t want to talk about right now. Michael accepted that he would have to wait a little longer for you to come to him. But for now, he would make sure that you knew that he was there. Patient. Willing. “I know something’s wrong, but I can see that you’re not ready to talk about it. I just need you to know that I love you. Whatever you need, I’m right here for you. Always.”

With that, he pulled you further into his body. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and relaxed your head into his neck. You could smell the faint cologne that he liked to wear throughout the week, and it brought you more comfort than you could express. He clearly loved you–at least that’s what his mouth was saying. 

Maybe you could try to make this work. 

____________________________

A week later, Michael’s family had decided to have a big get-together that would be hosted at his parents’ house. Naturally, you were invited as Michael’s girlfriend. Your relationship with his family had progressed as your relationship with Michael grew. Any time that his family had an event, they naturally expected you to show up alongside Michael. 

Things between you and Michael were still tense, even though you craved for things to return to normal between the two of you. You knew that it was a bit childish for you to not communicate with Michael, but confrontation had never been one of your strong suits. You grew up in a home that treated confrontation or negative emotions as a battlefield. You had learned to suck up your feelings and hide them beneath a poorly painted facade to uphold peace. You always became anxious when it came to having hard conversations, thus you usually tended to avoid them. 

You and Michael were dancing on a delicate line within your relationship. 

Walking up the front door of his parents’ home, Michael opened the door and ushered you in with his hand on your back. The two of you walked in the kitchen and were greeted by his parents. You were all smiles as you hugged his mom and dad. Michael’s father asked him to come help him with grilling. You were left in the kitchen with Michael’s mom, sister, and aunts. 

As he exited the kitchen, Michael noted the natural ease that you had with the women in his family. Maybe you’d be more open to sharing with the women in his family as opposed to him. 

You listened intently to the conversations that were happening around you. Each of the women shared tea and updates from their own lives. Michael’s aunt was telling the story of how she suspected that her neighbor’s wife was cheating on him with their other neighbor. The conversation shifted at multiple points, yet you only added minimal feedback to the conversation. You were trying to be normal, you really were. But there was still the fear and conversation that rang through your mind. If Michael was thinking that you talked too much, then maybe his family felt the same way? 

Unbeknownst to you, Donna Jordan kept a watchful eye on you. 

You were a favorite of hers by far in terms of her son’s girlfriends. Similar to Michael, she liked how passionate you got when you were talking. She had noted your talking, but what she liked about it was that the words that you were saying weren’t empty. Each word always had an intention behind it. You both had bonded over your work as a nurse who specialized in Black women’s health. You were passionate about the overall well-being of black and brown women, especially in a world that treated black women like an afterthought.

It was through her own time of getting to know you that she could easily pick up on the fact that something was wrong with you. You weren’t your useful, lively self. You were quieter and withdrawn. A little too stiff for her liking. 

It just so happened that your eyes met hers, and you gave her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. 

She would definitely be pulling her son aside to see what was going on.

As the cookout progressed, the food was set out in the kitchen. Naturally, the women in the family, including you, had taken up the duty to fix plates for the children and men. Michael watched as you listened intently to one of his little cousins as they told you everything that they wanted on their plates. He watched the ease with which you naturally adapted to the child’s request and helped them. He imagined what that would look like one day when the two of you had kids of your own. 

After you had made his cousin’s plate, you worked meticulously on making his plate with everything that he liked. Donna watched you as you made her son’s plate and admired the obvious care that you were putting into making it. It was obvious that you loved Michael, but there was still something there.

Sitting next to Michael, you continued to listen to the conversations around you, still with limited feedback of your own. It wasn’t until you heard your own name being called that you looked at one of Michael’s aunts, who was addressing you. “Baby, you’re a nurse, what do you think about all of this that’s going on with the hospitals and women’s reproductive health?”

You placed your fork down, “It’s horrible. I mean, not only does it hurt women all over who are trying to have babies, but it especially affects a lot of black and brown women. So many black women already fight to have their voices heard in the labor and delivery room, but these recent changes just allow more negligent care to happen when black women are delivering their kids.”

You continued your talk, and every person there hung onto every word that you said. Michael seemed more entranced than anyone at the table. It was the most that he had heard you talk in weeks, and he realized that he missed hearing you go on your long rants. God, why had you been keeping your voice from him?

Michael’s uncle, who sat on his right, leaned over, “Aye, nephew, you got you a good one. You might wanna go ahead and marry her.”

‘That’s the plan.’ Michael thought to himself.

____________________

Later, everyone sat in the living room and continued to enjoy each other’s presence. Michael went into the kitchen to check on his mother, who was cutting up slices of pie for everyone. 

“Hey, ma, you need help with anything?” He asked, standing across from her.

Donna shook her head and continued to cut the pie, “Naw, baby, why don’t you sit down for a second? Is there something going on between you and that baby in there? She just seems a little off since she got here today.”

“I was meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t know, ma. It’s been weird between us for a couple of weeks. I asked her about it, but she just keeps saying that it’s nothing. I keep trying to see if it’s something that I did, but so far, I can’t come up with anything.” 

In the living room, you sat next to one of Michael’s cousins and casually talked about how she was doing in college. You could hear the sounds of the younger kids playing and talking with each other. One of the kids, Nala, talked animatedly. Her little hands gestured wildly around her, and it seemed like her words were going a mile a minute. You and a couple of the adults in the room were tuned into her little speech. 

“Lord, that lil girl know she can run her mouth. I hope she grow out of that cause don’t nobody find all of that talking attractive.” Michael’s uncle stated. There were a few sounds of agreement from the other adults in the room, and you felt yourself tense up.

The conversation shifted, but none of the adults noticed that Nala had heard her uncle’s statement. Immediately, you watched as she quieted down and saw her begin to withdraw within herself. She quickly got up, tears filling her tiny eyes, and walked quietly out of the room. None of the adults was aware of the turmoil that the little girl was going through. But you. You saw Nala, and you weren’t going to let her carry that burden alone. 

Standing up, you followed behind Nala and found her sitting in one of the spare rooms in the Jordan household. Slight sobs racked her tiny body, and you felt your heart break for her. Knocking lightly on the door, you stood in the doorframe, “Hi, do you mind if I sit here with you?”

Nala nodded, and you sat next to her on the floor.

She wiped her hands across her face, but tears continued to escape her eyes. “I’m sorry that you heard that. You know, you deserve to talk just as anyone else.”

Nala sniffled, “I’m not trying to be annoying. I just get excited when I’m talking. But everybody keeps saying that I talk too much.”

You nodded your head softly, “I know how you feel. When I was growing up, people used to always tell me that I talked too much. They would make me feel bad for expressing myself, but I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with you. Your voice is important. It’s a gift. And you know what, somebody out there needs your voice. I’m a nurse, which means I work with many people who are ill. I work with a lot of women who are having new babies, and sometimes they get so scared. But once I start talking to them, they feel better. You’re going to do that one day. Someone out there is going to thank you for speaking.”

Nala hung onto every word that you said. Right there, she made up her mind that she wanted to be just like you. She wanted to use her voice to help others in the world.

“Now, why don’t you tell me all about those Disney princesses that you were talking about earlier. And don’t leave out any details.” 

With that, Nala launched into an animated conversation with you about Disney princesses. That’s where Michael found you. Sitting on the bedroom floor beside Nala, engrossed in an intense conversation. He could tell that both of you were enjoying the conversation. His heart clenched in his chest, and he knew that even more, he wanted to marry you.

By the end of the night, everyone was leaving with their to-go plates in hand. Nala was exiting the house with her parents, but not before she turned back and ran towards you. You bent down so that you could be eye level with her, and immediately, the younger girl launched herself into your arms. She whispered something in your ear–a secret that was only meant for the two of you. 

She gave you one last smile and ran back to her parents. 

Michael placed his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, “So you and Nala best friends?” 

“What? You jealous?” You joked, poking him in his side. You and Michael continued to joke with each other, and his mother watched you two fondly.

She prayed that everything would be okay between the two of you.

__________________________

On Sunday, you were at Michael’s house. 

It was your normal routine between the two of you. You would casually lounge around the house together, enjoying your respective coffees and each other’s company. 

You were working on a creative project on your laptop.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back,” You said, standing and stretching. 

Michael continued to sit at the kitchen table and casually scrolled through his phone. Your laptop dinged, announcing that you had a message. A couple of seconds went by before another ding sounded throughout the kitchen. Michael moved to lock your laptop, but stopped once he noticed that your messages were open. 

Now, he wasn’t one to snoop, and it was all an accident, but he only looked at your computer because he saw his name pop up in your messages with your best friend.

Bestie

So you still haven’t told Mike that you heard him and his homeboy talking about u the other day??

You

No…i always start to say something, but then I stop.

You know how i feel about confrontation

Plus, I’m just scared of what he’s going to say

What if he just finally decides that I’m too much and this isn’t what he wants? 

Bestie

Girl, I promise you’re not too much. You’re perfect. 

Just talk to him and let him know how you’re feeling. If he decides that he can’t handle you, then forget him.You deserved to be loved for every single aspect of you . I’m here if you need me…..or if you want me ball his lips up.

You

Okay ima go talk to him now. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Michael heard the sounds of your footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly moved away from your laptop. You rounded the corner and looked at him, “Hey, baby, can I talk to you?” 

Michael nodded, and you sat across from him.

There was a quick beat of silence in the kitchen. You rubbed your hands around your designated mug that had a home in Michael’s cabinet. “I know that you’ve noticed that I’ve been acting weird lately. I only told you half of the truth when I said that I was having a bad brain week. I have been having a hard time mentally. But…it’s because..well, I heard you and Jones that day. The whole thing about me running my mouth. It wasn’t the fact that Jones said it–I mean I’m used to people commenting on that. But it was you, you said ‘yeah man, it can be too much at times.” 

Sighing, you looked down and felt the anxiety claw beneath your ribs, but you pushed it down. You had to stop being afraid of tip toeing around other peoples’ feelings and sacrificing yours. 

“Quite frankly, Michael, it hurt. Not only did you not correct him, but you agreed. You know how hard it’s been for me with hearing that statement throughout my life. I told you how much it hurt to hear that growing up! I thought that you liked it about me, but you said it was too much.”

You paused, tears of frustration stinging at your eyes, “I’m tired of making myself smaller so that you and everyone else can feel comfortable! Yes, I talk a lot! I like to run my mouth, but you know what? I don’t see that as a flaw. I thought that you didn’t either, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you aren’t my person at all.”

With that, you felt a huge weight lift off of your shoulders. You had been carrying this fear and pain around for weeks, and it felt nice to finally release it. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought. Your feelings were your only priority at this moment.

Michael watched as you let out a deep breath. Your shoulders visibly relaxed and he realized just how much you had been carrying these past weeks. All of that pain and he was the one that started it. Guilt bloomed at his chest. He should’ve been more careful with his words, especially when it came to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked over at Michael, who continued speaking, “I’m so sorry, Princess. You’re right, I should’ve corrected Jones in the moment, and I shouldn’t have said what I said. You have every right to feel that way that you do. I’m sorry that you’ve been having to carry this all alone, and that I’m the reason that you felt that you had to.” 

Michael rounded the table and kneeled in front of you. Your eyes were looking past him and Michael felt crushed at seeing the pain that was there. You had always been someone who wore their emotions on their face, so it was often hard to hide it. He noticed you playing with the rings on your hands–another nervous tick. He grabbed your hands and softly massaged it between his. 

“Can you look at me,” He asked, hoping to catch your gaze. Your eyes finally met and Michael made sure to keep your attention on him, “I love you. I love you so much that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Seeing you around my family made me think about our future together. Baby, I want all of that with you. You took time out to sit with Nala, talking about Disney princesses. I couldn’t imagine any other woman that I would want to my wife and the mother of my children. I love hearing you talk. Even if it’s about something small, like that day when you wanted to talk about different clouds and which one was your favorite. I’m not annoyed with hearing you talk. Actually, hearing you go on those lil rambles is the best part of my day. I’m constantly checking my phone to see when you’re coming over, so I can hear what new thing you learned. And, I’m so sorry for making you feel any other way.” 

You played the words over and over in your head. 

A sudden smile overtook your face, “You know that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you talk since we’ve been together.”

Michael laughed and pulled you closer to him, “Princess, you’re the only one that I would ever give monologues like that too. If you want me to spend the next days of our lives together showing you how much I love you, then I will. Hell, I’ll send you an-hour long voice note if you want me to baby.” 

The two of you broke into loud laughter. It was a running joke between the two of you because you often liked to send Michael long voice notes about something that was going on. Michael called them your little podcast episodes, and he always kept each one that you sent. He liked to hear your narration for each story and how you would change your voice, depending on who was apart of the story.

“You’d start a podcast for me, Kari?” 

“Princess, I’d start a whole production with 20-episode seasons if you wanted me to,” Michael said. He leaned forward and kissed you deeply. He wanted to convey his love to you, in every sense. He needed you to know how much he cherished you.

“Now can you catch me up on everything that I’ve been missing about you. And don’t leave out any details.” 

Your eyes lit up and with that, you went to yapping, and filling Michael on everything in your world. He sat and listened patiently. And you know what, he never got tired of it. 

He could listen to you for hours.

His little chatterbox. 

His future wife. 

Yeah, he couldn’t wait to spend forever with you.

end.

Nobody:

Everyone in the ton knew two things the moment Anthony Bridgerton married you: first, that you were the one woman capable of softening him in a way nobody had ever managed before, and second, that nothing on this earth, not God nor king nor country, could ever stop him from protecting you with his entire soul, which - unfortunately - only made certain men, desperate, jealous, or foolishly curious, even more determined to test the boundaries of the Viscount’s temper by seeking your attention, your smile, your presence, as though you were a prize rather than a person, as though they did not fear the consequences of stepping too close to the edge of the man who had already proven himself willing to burn for the ones he loved.

Tonight, at Lord Hawthorne’s spring ball, their hunger became a little more obvious, their gazes lingering too long, their whispers too bold, their nightly drinks loosening the caution they should have held close to their chests; and while Anthony was called away by his brothers for a brief discussion about some estate matter, you felt it - an unease settling under your ribs, a prickle up the back of your neck - until a man whose name you barely remembered but whose reputation was well-known for arrogance and indulgence stepped too close, his breath thick with drink, his smile sharp in a way that made you instinctively step back, only to find the ballroom too crowded to move freely.

“Lady Bridgerton,” he drawled, eyes flicking over you with a familiarity he had not earned. “Your husband… always leaves you unattended. A pity, truly.”

You stiffened, keeping your voice polite. “The Viscount will return shortly. If you will excuse me-”

But his hand shot out, fingers clamping around your wrist with a strength heightened by drink and entitlement, his nails digging in just enough to make your breath hitch as he tugged you forward with a force that left the floor tilting slightly beneath your feet.

“No need to scurry away,” he murmured, his grip tightening even as you attempted to twist free. “We are quite alone here, aren’t we?”

You swallowed. “This is highly inappropriate-”

“Oh, come now,” he whispered, leaning too close, his breath fanning over your cheek, “surely the Viscount cannot blame a man for admiring beauty when it is so very tempting.”

You jerked your arm back, but he only laughed, guiding you, step by step, toward the terrace doors - dark, half-open, unguarded - until the cool night air spilled over your skin and the room disappeared behind you, the sounds of violins muffled as he closed the door with a slow, deliberate click.

“Let go,” you said, your voice shaking despite your attempt to remain steady.

He did not.

Instead, he crowded you against the stone balustrade, the pressure of it pressing coldly into your lower back, his fingers sliding up your arm until they reached your jaw, tilting your face toward his with a horrifying gentleness that made your stomach drop. “You deserve someone who sees you,” he whispered, his thumb brushing the corner of your lip in a gesture that made revulsion crawl up your spine. “Someone who is not too busy being Viscount to remember he has a wife.”

You twisted your head away just as he dipped toward your mouth, his lips skimming the edge of your cheek, damp and unwanted, sending a jolt of panic straight through your chest as his other hand seized your waist, pulling you closer, closer-

And something inside you broke.

You reacted without thinking, teeth sinking sharply into the skin of his cheek, just below his lip, tasting copper, hearing the hiss of pain as he reared back, shock flashing across his face before it twisted into something dark, ugly, dangerous.

“You little-”

The slap came before you could brace for it, white-hot and stunning, snapping your head sideways, the world tilting violently as his hand shoved you, hard, sending you stumbling into the stone railing, pain blooming along your ribs as your breath punched out of your lungs in a strangled gasp.

You barely had time to catch yourself before he grabbed your shoulders, shaking you once, twice, his grip unforgiving as you tried to push him away, voice trembling: “Stop… please… stop-”

And then-

A sound you had never heard from Anthony before tore through the night.

It wasn’t a shout.

It wasn’t a call.

It was a roar.

Animal.

Raw.

Murderous.

“TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE.”

The man barely had time to turn before Anthony collided with him, the impact so violent you heard the air punched from his lungs as they hit the terrace floor, Anthony’s fists already swinging, relentless, punishing, each blow a horrific crack of knuckles against bone as he straddled the man’s chest, eyes wide and wild, breathing like a man who had been denied oxygen for too long.

“You touched her,” Anthony growled, voice low and shaking with rage so deep it bordered on madness. “You dared lay a filthy hand on her-”

Another punch.

“And you think you will breathe after that?”

Another.

Your voice scraped out of your throat. “Anthony-”

He didn’t hear you.

He couldn’t.

He was gone.

Lost.

You watched with trembling limbs as Anthony seized the man by the collar, dragging him upward only to slam him back down, the sickening thud echoing in the night as the man whimpered, blood already streaking down his chin.

Anthony’s hands moved to his throat.

“No-” you gasped, stumbling forward, “Anthony, please-”

But Anthony’s fingers tightened, squeezing, pushing the man’s head back into the stone, his jaw clenched so hard the veins in his neck stood out, his entire body shaking with the sheer force of his fury as he leaned over the man, voice low and lethal: “I should end you for touching her. I should end you right here.”

The man choked, struggling weakly.

Anthony pressed harder.

“ANTHONY!” Benedict’s voice cut through the night like a blade.

Suddenly there were hands grabbing Anthony’s shoulders, arms wrapping around his torso, pulling, tugging, fighting him; Benedict on one side, Colin on the other, both straining from the sheer strength of a man gone feral with fear and rage.

“Anthony! Stop! You’ll kill him-”

“Let go of him, brother- he cannot breathe-”

“He hurt her,” Anthony shouted, voice cracking with something guttural and shattered. “He hurt her, let me go… LET ME GO-”

But his brothers held him, panting, grunting with the effort, until at last his hands slipped from the man’s bruised throat, leaving him gasping and coughing on the ground.

And then Anthony saw you.

Finally saw you.

The bruises forming on your arm, the reddened handprint on your cheek, the tear tracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Anthony froze.

Everything inside him - rage, movement, breath - stilled.

He stumbled toward you, eyes wide, horrified, devastated in a way that made your heart twist because you had never seen him look like that, never seen him genuinely afraid.

“Sweetheart…” he breathed, voice breaking, “my love- what has he- what did he -”

He reached for you, then stopped, hands hovering inches from your skin as though he feared he might hurt you simply by touching, his chest rising and falling too fast, too sharply.

“Anthony,” you whispered.

He crumpled.

Quite literally - his knees hit the stone as he pulled you into his arms with a gentleness that contradicted every violent breath he’d taken moments before, his hand sliding behind your head, his other sweeping around your waist, holding you as though he feared you might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.

“I’m here,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking as tears slipped down onto your shoulder. “My darling girl, I am here, I am here, you’re safe, you’re safe now, I swear it-”

You trembled in his hold, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, breathing him in, grounding yourself in the scent of sandalwood and clove and the warmth of his chest pressed tightly against yours.

Benedict and Colin exchanged a look - relief, horror, pity - before stepping away to retrieve their mother, who emerged moments later with a gasp of horror, hands covering her mouth, her eyes shining with sympathy and devastation as she hurried to your side.

“My dear,” Lady Bridgerton whispered, cupping your uninjured cheek with a mother’s tenderness. “Come, let us get you home.”

But Anthony was already rising to his feet, scooping you into his arms without hesitation, his jaw set, his eyes burning, his voice firm and low as he addressed his mother:

“I am taking her home. No one else touches her. No one.”

His mother nodded softly, surprised by neither his protectiveness nor the terrifying certainty in his tone.

You buried your face in Anthony’s shoulder as he carried you through the house, ignoring the shocked gasps and murmurs that spread like wildfire through the guests. He did not slow. He did not explain. He did not acknowledge anyone.

He simply held you.

As though you were the only thing that existed.

————————

The carriage ride home felt strangely silent despite the pounding of hooves, the creak of wheels, the frantic rhythm of your own heart. Anthony had you gathered in his lap the entire time, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as though you were made of glass and he feared even the vibration of the road might cause you more pain. His chin rested against your temple, his breath shaky every few seconds - he tried to hide it, but he couldn’t, not like this, not when the adrenaline had faded and left nothing but fear and guilt in its wake.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he whispered into your hair, voice hoarse. “Tell me the moment you feel discomfort, and I will stop the carriage, I’ll carry you the rest of the way, I do not care how many miles remain.”

“I’m alright,” you murmured, your voice still trembling from what had happened. “You don’t need to-”

Anthony flinched. Actually flinched.

“Do not say I don’t need to,” he whispered, pulling you tighter, “because I do. I need to hold you. I need to touch you. I need to know you’re still here. I nearly-” His voice cracked, the words breaking apart. “I nearly lost myself entirely when I saw him shove you. If Benedict and Colin had not-”

You felt his throat move as he swallowed hard.

“…I don’t know what would remain of me,” he finished in a whisper.

You tightened your grip on his waist, and Anthony made a sound - low, raw, relieved - burying his face in your shoulder.

When the carriage finally stopped outside Bridgerton House, Anthony didn’t wait for the footman. He simply stood, lifting you into his arms with a strength that was gentler than anyone would have expected from a man who’d been moments away from killing someone with his bare hands.

The maids rushed toward the door the moment he crossed the threshold, but Anthony’s voice was firm, icy, brooking no argument.

“No one touches her,” he ordered. “No one enters our room. I will tend to her myself.”

They curtsied and disappeared quickly, wide-eyed and whispering - but none dared disobey.

Anthony carried you through the halls with steps that grew faster the closer he came to your room, as though the only place he trusted the world with you was behind that locked door. When he reached it, he nudged it open with his shoulder and set you down only when he had no other choice, his hands sliding slowly down your arms as though afraid you might dissolve the moment he let go.

“Sit, my love,” he whispered, guiding you to the edge of the bed. “Let me… let me take care of you.”

Your throat tightened at the way his hands trembled as he reached for the laces of your gown. Anthony Bridgerton - your husband, your steady, fierce, impossibly controlled husband - was shaking.

“Anthony,” you whispered.

“Please,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your bruised cheek like it physically hurt him to look at it. “Let me do this.”

So you let him.

He unlaced your gown with slow, reverent hands, peeling away the fabric inch by inch, murmuring apologies every time you winced, even when you insisted the pain was mild. His jaw flexed when he found the bruise forming on your shoulder from where you had been shoved. His breath hitched when he saw the angry red marks around your arm where you had been grabbed.

And then he dropped to his knees.

Just… dropped.

As though the sight of the damage had pulled the ground out from under him.

“Anthony-”

“I should have been there,” he whispered, his hands hovering just above your skin. “I should never have let you walk away alone. I will never - never - allow such a thing to happen again.”

“Anthony, it wasn’t your-”

“It was,” he said sharply - not angry at you, but angry at himself, furious in a way that trembled beneath the surface. “Your safety is my charge. Your wellbeing is my duty. Your happiness is-” He broke off, dragging a shaking hand through his hair. “I failed you tonight. I failed my wife.”

You lifted his chin gently.

His eyes were wet.

“Anthony,” you whispered, “I’m not afraid of you.”

He froze.

Actually froze.

You cupped his face more firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. “Look at me,” you whispered. “I’m not afraid of you. Not your anger. Not your temper. Not your fists. Not your voice. Not anything you did tonight. You were protecting me.”

He inhaled sharply, a wounded sound that split your heart in two.

“You cannot know how that comforts me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “You have no idea what a mercy that is to hear.”

You brushed your thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Come here.”

He climbed onto the bed slowly, almost cautiously, as though afraid he might break something by moving too quickly. You lay back, pulling him with you until his body was half draped over yours, his head on your chest, his hand pressed over your heart like he needed proof it was still beating.

For a long time, he didn’t speak.

He simply breathed you in, his fingers tracing your ribs, your waist, your thigh, as though reacquainting himself with every piece of you he had feared losing.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were soft, vulnerable, shattered in the way only a man deeply in love can be shattered.

“May I… kiss them?” he whispered, nodding to the bruises.

You nodded.

So he kissed them.

Every one.

Your cheek.

Your shoulder.

The marks on your arm.

The small bruise forming on your hip.

Each kiss was slow, reverent, full of apologies he didn’t have the words to say.

When he reached your lips, he paused, his forehead against yours.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered. “Name it, and I will give it to you.”

“I just need you,” you murmured, threading your fingers into his hair. “Stay with me. Lie with me. Hold me.”

Anthony exhaled shakily, the relief in his eyes almost painful to witness.

“Always,” he whispered.

He slid beneath the blankets with you, pulling your body against his chest, wrapping himself around you as though trying to form a shield with his own limbs. His hand splayed over your back, warm and steady. His lips brushed the crown of your head again and again, murmuring soft reassurances between breaths.

“You’re safe.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m here.”

“I won’t let anything hurt you again.”

“I love you. God, I love you.”

The room grew quiet.

Your breathing steadied.

His heartbeat settled.

And in the darkness, with his arms tight around you, with his breath warm against your skin, with the weight of his devotion pressing softly into your bones-

You felt safe.

You felt protected.

You felt loved.

And for the first time since the terrace, the terror finally melted away.

———————

When Chan first talked to you about keeping your relationship a secret, you had agreed right away. You were a pretty private person anyway and the fact that it wasn’t a complete secret - the members, your families, close friends, and management all knew - helped a lot too.

You know that Chan is mainly worried about crazy fans who might start targeting you, while you’re less concerned about your safety and more focused on how the news would negatively impact his reputation and career as an idol. Both of you know that it would make all the work that you’ve done as a producer for JYPE that has helped with Stray Kids songs seem less professional and more like favouritism.

Although you wish that you didn’t have to hide, pretending to be single has been something that the two of you have struggled with multiple times in the past, you know it's for the best. At least working for the same company has its own perks, such as being able to work together on songs without it being suspicious and the knowledge that most of the time, you're only a few floors away.

So on nights like tonight, when you've ended up working late and most of the other staff have gone home for the day, you can just text Chan to ask if he wants to meet up.

[Sent 8:02pm]

Hey are you still at the company?

[Received 8:04pm]

Yup

You too? It’s so late…

[Sent 8:04pm]

Says you

but yeah, I’m about to leave

[Received 8:06pm]

Come say hi?

I’m getting ready for a schedule

Chan sends you the number of the room that he’s in and you quickly finish packing your things so that you can make your way over. The door is closed when you arrive, but since Chan invited you, you knock and open it yourself.

But there’s still a bit of time

What you find inside makes you raise an eyebrow. 

Chan is sitting in a chair with headphones in and eyes closed, he likely didn’t hear you knock. But what surprises you is his makeup artist.

You’re no stranger to the way that the stylists and makeup artists have to be physically close with the idols and you’re pretty comfortable with it since you know it’s strictly professional. But the way that this makeup artist has positioned herself is a little suspicious.

She’s pressed herself as close to Chan as possible and has both hands touching his face as she applies eyeshadow. Her own face is unnecessarily close to Chan’s.

She must realise how questionable it must look because when you clear your throat to try and get their attention, she jumps away immediately, almost poking Chan in the eye with the eyeshadow brush in the process. It causes Chan to notice, and he pulls off his headphones, face brightening once he sees you.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Nope, all good,” Chan reassures you. “Have you two met before? Y/nnie, this is Harang-ssi, one of our makeup artists, she’s here to make me look presentable before my schedule. Harang-ssi, this is Y/n-ah.”

“Nice to meet you, Harang-ssi,” you say, bowing slightly.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Harang echoes politely. As she looks at you, she spots something that makes her eyes widen and her smile a bit more genuine. “Oh, are you also staff?”

“Yeah,” you say slowly, looking down at your lanyard that must have given you away. “I'm a producer with the company.”

For some reason that relaxes Harang even further. Instead of commenting, she steps closer to Chan again, reaching towards him to continue applying makeup. You stare, surprised by her boldness and how oblivious she seems to the way that Chan has started to angle his body away from her, trying to create distance between the two.

“Well?” Harang asks impatiently after you don't say anything else. “Go ahead with whatever you’re here for. Chan-ssi has a schedule soon.”

You stare at Chan, not sure how much he wants to share. To someone observant, he’s already given you away by using a nickname and speaking to you far more casually than he would if you were only a producer. The two of you dating isn’t exactly a secret, but the more people who know, the more likely it might get leaked to the public.

“Uhm,” Chan says, looking at you as if to gauge your expression as he speaks. At the sound of his voice, Harang pulls away from him slightly, clearly surprised that he’s speaking first. “Actually, I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but Y/nnie isn’t just a producer at JYPE. I asked her to come by because she’s my girlfriend.”

“What?” Harang’s face drops. She looks devastated, although by the time Chan looks away from you, she’s managed to school her face into one of polite surprise and let out a fake giggle. “Oh I didn’t- I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, Chan-ssi.”

“Yeah, that’s good actually! We’re trying to keep it quiet,” Chan explains. “You understand, right? You can’t be too careful these days.”

“Of course,” she agrees immediately. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great, thanks.” Chan smiles and Harang’s whole face lights up in response. Before she can say anything else though, Chan turns to where you’re still hovering by the door and reaches a hand out. “Y/nnie, why are you still so far away? Come over here.”

It’s hard to stop the blush that erupts on your face. You think that Chan is so cute when he’s clingy, but you haven’t had any opportunities to get used to PDA so it’s still a little embarrassing. From the corner of your eye, you can see that Harang’s face is puckered like she’s swallowed something really sour. When you get close enough to grab Chan’s hand, he pulls you into his arms. Since he still hasn’t gotten up from his chair, he’s practically buried his face into your stomach.

“Yah!” you laugh. “You’re going to get makeup all over my shirt!”

“Oh sorry.” Chan pops his head back up, blinking at you owlishly. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you reply, using your free hand to comb through his hair, smiling as Chan leans into your touch. “But I’m not sure if I can say the same for Harang-ssi, you’re ruining her hard work!”

Chan turns away from you, looking surprised when he sees Harang hovering awkwardly at the table where all the makeup is spread out. 

“Ah, you’re still here?” he asks innocently. You wince inwardly, knowing that even though Chan didn’t mean anything by asking, but even to you it sounds passive aggressive.

"Oh sorry, I wouldn’t want to get in the way, I'll just take a quick break and come back in a second!" she says, smiling sickly sweet when Chan thanks her even though it’s obvious that she doesn’t really want to leave.

"That was kind of… awkward," you comment as soon as the door closes behind her, not quite sure what to make of her conflicting behaviour.

"What do you mean?"

"Were you not there? She basically glared at me when you told her that we were together, she clearly did not like me."

"It could be that she was just caught off guard, I mean, I haven't exactly been broadcasting to all of JYPE that I have a girlfriend."

“Yeah and she probably imagined herself as being able to fill that role. She was so touchy!” You don’t want to be a whiny girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean you can’t complain when somebody is showing obvious interests in your boyfriend and he’s doing nothing to stop them.

“Oh, that’s just how she always is.” Chan shrugs. “With the rest of the guys too, we’ve all gotten used to it. Really, she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“So since she does that to everyone, it’s okay?”

“Y/n-ah, just leave it!” Chan groans. “I didn’t ask you to come by so that we could argue about something stupid.”

“Fine,” you say, a little hurt and uneasy that Chan’s just brushing you off. “If you say so. I guess I just don’t know her that well.”

“I promise she’s a good person. I don't want you wasting your time worrying about her. Now, how was your day?”

“It was good, busy. I didn't mean to stay so long, but I got caught up with something and didn't realise how much time had passed. Actually, I should probably go now,” you say.

“What? But you just got here,” Chan whines. 

“You have a schedule soon,” you remind him gently. “And as you said, it's late. I'm going to head home and eat something.”

“You didn’t eat yet? Y/nnie, you shouldn’t skip meals! Here, I can order you something, what do you want?”

“It’s fine, I’ll just grab something on my way home,” you say. “And you’re one to talk, did you eat dinner yet?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. I tried a new place and it was good!” Chan pauses for a second to take out his phone. “Actually, I think you’d like it, I’ll just get you what I got and you can tell me what you think.”

“Oppa, it’s fine-”

“Too late!” Chan proudly shows you his screen which shows that in just a few seconds, he’s finished placing an order. “It’ll arrive around the time that you get home.”

“Thanks oppa,” you say fondly, kissing the top of his head, then the dimple that forms on his cheek as he smiles. “I hope your schedule goes well and that you don’t have to stay for too long.”

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay. I'll let you know how the food is.”

You don't stay long after that, quickly saying goodbye before leaving the room. You find Harang waiting in the hallway, typing on her phone. When you let her know that she can go back and apologise for interrupting, she barely acknowledges you, just rolls her eyes and walks past.

You try to not let it bother you, but her two-faced attitude rubs you the wrong way. At least you likely won't have to deal with her again, you only met now after working at the same company for a few years and you're in no hurry to change that.

—

A few days later, you get an instagram notification that someone has requested to follow you. It's unusual because you’re not the type to post much and your account is private, even though you're still careful to avoid any pictures or mentions of Chan or the rest of Stray Kids.

It’s Harang.

Odd, since she definitely gave off the impression that she didn’t like you.

Curious, you click on her profile. It's fairly generic at first glance, a majority of the photos feature her which isn’t much of a surprise. However, one of the most recent pictures catches your eye.

It's a mirror selfie taken in one of the company rooms that the stylists and makeup artists typically use. There's someone in the background and although their face isn't showing, you can tell it's Chan. The picture itself is harmless, Harang could have been a bit more vigilant before posting it, but it could easily be explained away as a mistake. It’s when you see the number of likes and comments compared to her normal posts that has you concerned. 

Opening up the comments just proves that your wariness of Harang wasn’t entirely unfounded. One of the top posts is a comment that says ‘Is that your boyfriend?? you look so cute togetherrr’ to which Harang just replied ‘🤭’. There's another reply that makes your stomach drop ‘isn't that Chan?? he's dating someone????’ 

A number of comments argue about whether or not it’s Chan, if the photo has been edited, and questioning who Harang is. They talk about the clothes the man in the picture is wearing, his posture, height, hair, and compare it to other pictures of Chan.

Scrolling through some older posts, you start to find a pattern of pictures that are similarly suspicious. None of them are completely obvious, the man’s face is always turned away or cropped out, but there’s enough showing for you to recognize it to be Chan and you know that his fans are observant enough to do the same.

"Hey," you say, pulling Chan’s attention away from where he’s playing a game on his phone. "You know that makeup artist I interrupted the other day?"

"Yeah, Harang? What about her?"

"She requested to follow me on Instagram," you say slowly, still trying to figure out how best to word everything. "Did you know?"

"Did I know she sent you a follow request? How would I know that?" he asks incredulously.

"No, more like, did you know about her account."

"Well I'm certainly not surprised that she has one, but no, I haven't looked at it before. Why? What's with the sudden interrogation?"

“I think that she’s been posting photos with you in them,” you say, putting it bluntly.

“With me? Are you sure?”

“Not directly you, but just. It’s like, the side of you or your back or something. But I can tell.”

“All the staff have contracts that prohibit taking pictures with or of us. Y/n, I get that she made you feel a bit uncomfortable that time you met her and I’m sorry, but do you really think she would risk her job like that?”

“Well when you put it like that-” you start to say.

"I know you two maybe got off on the wrong foot, but Harang is really sweet," Chan interrupts. “We’ve worked with her for years and she’s been nothing but nice. Maybe she’s a bit more touchy than others, but she’s never crossed any boundaries.”

"Something about her feels weird, like there’s something more going on. These posts-”

“Just drop it, there’s nothing to be concerned about. She’s harmless.”

“You keep saying that but I’m telling you-”

"Why, are you jealous?" he asks, adopting a teasing voice. He pulls you into his arms. "You know that you're my girl, right?" 

“Chan, I’m not jealous!” you snap, pushing him away. Chan looks at you, startled by your seriousness. “I really don’t like her. And you keep defending her and I don’t know how to feel when you’re taking her side and not mine.”

“Okay fine,” Chan says, finally backing off although he seems a bit annoyed. “I can’t avoid her at schedules, but I’ll be careful when she’s around, okay?”

“Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence and you think the conversation is over, but Chan speaks again.

“I just wish that you’d trust me a little more. You know that I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“Of course I trust you,” you say. “I just don’t trust her, she’s- I can tell she’s up to something.”

“Well she can be up to whatever she wants, it’s not going to change the fact that you’re the one I love. She can have feelings for me, but I’m never going to reciprocate them.”

“Fine, I won’t bring it up again,” you say, feeling exhausted. 

Dropping the issue without getting Chan to fully understand your concerns feels like defeat, but you can tell that pushing more won’t get you anywhere. You haven’t even broached the part that bothered you most about the posts - the fact that Harang has been seemingly pretending that Chan was her partner - but if Chan already doesn’t care, this detail isn’t going to change his mind.

You don't want to make too much of a fuss about it, maybe it really is a non-issue and you're overreacting, but something about this whole situation just doesn't sit right with you. 

—

You're a bit surprised when a few weeks later, Chan asks you to go on a date, even more so when he mentions that he was able to book a private room at a fancy restaurant the two of you had talked about trying before. It wasn't that he never treated you or made time for you, it was just that his busy schedule and caution around fans finding out about you meant that the two of you stayed in more often than not.

The last time you had done something like this was on your anniversary a few months ago and while you enjoy the comfortable and quiet dates at home that you usually have, you're touched by Chan's initiative to do something more special.

The night of the date, you're still in the process of getting ready when Chan texts.

[5:47 pm - received]

Have some things that I need to finish up

Sorry baby, I'm going to be staying late tonight

You know how much Chan tries to prioritise spending time with you, so you figure that it must be something really important that came up. You understand that he doesn't have much of a choice when the higher ups ask something of him, but it's hard to stop the disappointment that crashes over you. Still, you want to support him and cheer him up, guessing that he already feels bad about having to bail.

[5:52 pm - sent]

It's fine! Don’t work too hard ^.^

[5:55 pm - received]

Thanks

Miss you

[5:56 pm - sent]

It had been so long since you had been on a proper date with Chan that you had started getting more and more excited as the day had approached. You had even bought a new dress that you'd been eyeing for a while and had left work a little bit earlier than usual to get ready. Now it feels like it was all for nothing. At least he told you before you left the house, but you've already finished your makeup.

Miss you toooo

Not wanting to waste the evening, you message a couple friends and make plans to grab dinner. It’s been a couple months since the three of you have been able to get together and you have fun catching up at a pocha eating street food.

When you finish your meal, the three of you discuss going to a noraebang next and you take out your phone to help search for the nearest one.

You get a notification that one of your friends has posted a story of you and your dinner, so you open up Instagram to like it. You’re about to switch to Naver Map when the screen changes to a story that Harang has posted. The second that you see it, there's this horrible, heavy feeling that starts to grow in your chest, making it harder to breathe.

The picture is focused on the food that’s on the table, but even a short glance is enough for you to recognize that the hands of the person sitting across from Harang belong to Chan. If you weren’t sure from just the hands, his signature bracelets and the bunched up sleeves of his hoodie confirm your suspicions. Even the food that has been ordered matches Chan’s preferences.

Oh.

So Chan wasn't working late.

He was out. 

Having dinner.

With Harang. 

The girl that you had warned him about. 

The one that he had promised to stay away from.

Instagram moves to another story, but you navigate back to Harang’s page to look at the picture again. This time, you notice that there’s a caption at the bottom of the screen that says ‘late night meals with him <3’.

You want to throw up.

Instead, you lock your phone with shaky hands and take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears that have begun to sting your eyes. You don’t want to be the crazy, jealous, and possessive girlfriend that overreacts or jumps to conclusions every time they see their partner spending time with others. 

But this isn’t you randomly accusing him without any cause. It’s reasonable for you, his girlfriend, to be upset when he’s spending time one-on-one with another woman, even more so because that other woman is pretending online that she's dating him.

No matter what you think, there is no good reason that would explain why Chan would have dinner with Harang tonight. If it was just the picture, you could have accepted it as Harang being her usual, delusional self, but the fact that Chan would cancel plans and deliberately lie to you about it…

“-okay, Y/n?”

You just manage to catch the end of your friend's question and you look up to find both your friends staring at you with identical concerned expressions.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off by laughing but even you can tell it doesn't sound convincing. “Sorry, I think I zoned out.”

“Are you okay?” one of them repeats gently. “Did you get some bad news?”

“No, not that, it's just I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. I think I should go home,” you say to your friends. You must look just as horrible as you feel because as soon as they see your face, they immediately stop what they’re doing to fuss over you.

“What do you think it was?” one of them asks.

“I think something just didn’t agree with me,” you say weakly.

“But we shared all our food, were you feeling sick earlier?”

“No, it's fine, I think I just need to rest a bit.”

As much as you want to spill everything to them, to yell and scream and cry. To shake them and ask what you've done to deserve this. To make them check and see if you're actually going crazy. You can't.

They don't know Chan, they wouldn't understand how complicated your secret relationship is. But mostly, you don't want them to know. You want to keep the shame and embarrassment that's clawing in your chest to yourself.

You don't think you could handle it, watching their expressions turn to one of pity. You know there's nothing they could say to make you feel better anyway.

Your friends order you a taxi to take you home, making you promise to message them when you make it back safely. You manage to do that, sending a couple words to your group chat the second you stumble out of the vehicle.

Somehow you make it back to your apartment. You didn't drink tonight, but the way that the ground seems to be moving from under you, the unsteadiness of your hands as you try to unlock your door, and the roiling nausea that you've barely kept at bay, it feels like you've finished a couple bottles of soju by yourself.

You had suspected something was going on and this was just confirmation that you were right. Maybe it had been dumb of you to just believe Chan when he said there was nothing to worry about - of course he would say that. You had chosen to trust Chan and he had let you fall.

The worst part is, you don't even feel mad.

In fact, you don't feel anything at all. The gross and sick feeling that had taken over your body has been replaced with a heavy numbness. It fills your limbs and dulls the pain that you know is simmering just underneath your skin so that all that's left is this deep ache.

You don't sleep at all that night.

Parts:

Profiles & extras: Delulu House | Stray Kids | Playlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Bonus Content Unlocked: Mystery Trip with Y/n playlist

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20 (fin)

Bonus Content Unlocked: Memes

—

Buy me a coffee?