#ANYWAY.. uh oh. boy in danger! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonycries · 5 hours

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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What?

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.

“Alright. Plan B, then.”

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least.

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking.

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.

Gathered here - for you.

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod.

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip!

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be.

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.

“Close?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

930 notes · View notes

midnightwriter21 · 1 year

Text

demon slayer hcs: hashira men w/ a tiny SO

characters: fem!reader x tengen, sanemi, rengoku

warning: suggestive content

AN: i’m writing this from the pov of someone that’s short af. like 4’11 (cause that’s how tall i am lol) enjoy~

TENGEN

god he’s so hot

let’s get straight into the gross shit huh?

i just KNOW

that this man is NASTY

size kink size kink size kinkkkkkkk

dawg is huge

his one hand can almost wrap around ur entire waist

manhandles u all over the place

yes please

anyways now that we’re done with that-

he will make fun of u

juuuusssstttt a little bit

but its all fun and games

will never take it too far

takes things out of your hands just to hold them over his head

likes to see u jump to reach it

high five?

his hand is all the way up

arm straight

high five him in the face if u get fed up

won't hurt him anyways

he'll prob think its funny

will also do that shit where he looks right over ur head and is like "has any one seen y/n?"

carries u around

u don't remember what it feels like to have ur feet on the ground at this point

he’s doing push-ups?

sit on his back

100% will bench press you for fun

you’ll be walking past him

you blink and all of a sudden ur in the air

calls u stupid corny nicknames like “short stack”

SANEMI

now this man

his ego is through the roof

size kink?

uh yeah

will tease the hell out of u

putting stuff on the top shelves so u can't reach

and don't think he's gonna give in and help u

oh no he likes to watch u struggle

now i think sanemi LOVES a fiery woman

but give him a lil too much attitude?

he's throwing u over his shoulder and walking off

and he's gonna remedy that situation dw

remember i said size kink?

he's about to remind you just how much bigger than you he really is

will RUIN u

protective!!

doesn't matter if ur a slayer or not

still not as strong as him

and to sanemi

smaller=more breakable

now don't get it twisted

dude does NOT think ur weak

cmon you really think the mf Wind Pillar would be with someone totally weak?

absolutely not

again. u don’t have to be a slayer

there are different types of strength bae

he's just gonna keep an extra close eye on you thats all

RENGOKU

i am so soft for him

literal sweetheart

can't reach something?

kyojuro is already handing it to you

or picking u up so u can reach it

he's not gonna tease you about your height

he's the one showering you in complements

telling you how you're perfect the way you are

never wants you to feel annoyed or insecure about your size

he's a lil more protective too

don't get caught climbing the countertops to reach something

cause he's pulling u down with a

"honey that's dangerous! what if you fell and hit your head?"

like kyo

baby boy

u realize i had a life before i met you right?

ur a professional countertop climber at this point but he does not care

don't do it again

also he's teaching you to fight if u don't alrdy know how

just in case he's not there to protect you one day

best teacher 10/10

won't bend down to kiss u tho

he likes that you have to get on ur tiptoes and balance urself against him to reach his lips

thinks its cute

he's so boyfriend

#anime #demon slayer #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #shinazugawa sanemi #tengen #rengoku #sanemi #hashira #hashira x reader

4K notes · View notes

redcoralpot · 6 months

Text

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam.

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home.

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered.

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself.

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his.

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath.

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

#x male reader #male reader #male y/n #gay #fnaf movie #fnaf #michael afton #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x male reader #bottom character #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader

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deadsetobsessions · 18 days

Text

This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.

——

Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.

He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.

To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.

Or to Jason’s grave, at least.

Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.

——

Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.

“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”

Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!

“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.

Not that dumb!

Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.

Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!

“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.

“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.

“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.

“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.

“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.

“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.

….

Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.

——

“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.

It did not reply.

——

The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?

Reinforcements were called in.

Meaning, Batgirl.

“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”

“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.

“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”

“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”

Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.

“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.

“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.

That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.

“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.

“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”

“What?”

Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.

“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.

——

“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.

“Hey, wait-”

“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.

When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.

“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”

“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.

“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.

“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”

Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”

Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.

“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”

Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.

“Fix it.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.

“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”

Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.

“Robin, get down from there!”

“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.

Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.

“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”

“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.

Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.

——

“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”

Dick patted the headstone.

“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”

#y’all is the Romani language spelled Romany #idk if im reading that wrong but did you know the Vlad dialect is the most widespread?#nightwing #dick grayson robin #dick grayson #dick grayson’s gaslight gatekeeper girl boss moment #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Batman and the trials of parenthood #google what to do when your vigilante child seems to have forgotten that he’s a vigilante #Batman using the magic Justice League like a wiki how #minors angst disguised as crack #also my favorite thing to write is brice and dick coping by talking to graves #but not actually talking to the grave’s owner who is actually alive #dick gets better about it #Bruce? not really #English is the fucking worst #Jason Todd #jason Todd’s grave

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whois-miki · 4 months

Text

—- a tour

Luke Castellan x Persephone!genderneutral!reader

warning - persassy, mention about danger in the forest, mentions of couples making out in the forest, percy : 🧍🏼, soft Luke

plot -

Luke gives a tour to Percy and they come across a certain someone.

The child or Persephone babysits her younger half sibling when two boys see her.

”and that’s the entrance to the forest, i’d advise you to stay away from it though. it gets pretty dangerous at night and in the day time couples just go there to hang out.” Luke said mumbling that last bit.

Percy shot him a look of confusion and disgust, and Luke responded by just saying ‘yeah i know.’

The two boys then come to the strawberry farm where they see you playing with your eight year old half sibling.

At the sight of you, Luke’s eyes softened and his lips curled into a slight smile.

Meanwhile, you were using your powers to make a small flower for the younger girl, your half sibling smiled a toothy smile and fidgeted with the flower you’d given her.

Feeling the boys’ presence, you turn around to see the two and smile at them and wave.

Luke’s hand uncurled slightly giving you a small wave and Percy just stood there confused.

“who’s that?” Percy asked the older boy. Luke quickly snapped out of his trance to hum in confusion. “i mean who are they?”

“[ name ] [ last name ],” Luke said snapping his gaze over to you again watching you weave together flowers to make a crown for the girl.

“so you and them, huh?”

“what do you mean?” he said looking now back at Percy

“i mean you and them, forest?” Percy looked at him in genuine curiosity

“what? gods no!” he said a little too quickly, his face was flustered as he thought of you and him dating.

“i mean, they’re pretty. and everything just gets better when they’re around. and everything just blooms in a flourishing way.” he muttered to the younger boy his mind still fixated on you.

“mhm.” Percy hummed and before he could say anything, a certain child of Persephone showed up.

“whatcha guys talking about?” They both looked up to see you holding the hand of an eight year old girl.

“gods [ nick name ], don’t scare us like that.” Luke muttered teasingly and you fake laughed before a smile tugged at your lips.

Luke was right, Percy could see that everything just got brighter around you. You gave off a welcoming and kind aura and it made it 10x better with your kind smile. the flowers the wilted from dehydration looked crisp and clean around you.

you smiled at Luke but only glanced at Percy for a split moment with a confused glint in your eyes.

the eight year old girl tugged at your sleeve to go to the Persephone Cabin.

as soon as you left, the crisp and clean flowers now wilted again and looked sad. Percy remembered that your mother was Persephone, goddess of the Spring but also the Underworld as in death.

Luke watched you run back to the Persephone Cabin hand and hand with the eight year old girl.

“uh huh sure you don’t like her.” Percy said with sarcasm and sass mixing in his voice

“oh shut it.” Luke said with a flustered face.

a/n

AAUUUGGHHH

ahem

anyways this is shit sorry for wasting your time also none of this makes sense and i will make a Clarisse Fic soon!! also thank you so much for all the likes and support!!

<3 miki!!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #pjo x reader #pjo show #NO BECAUSE I WANT THIS IRL #HELP THIS IS LIKE MY DREAAAMM

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popponn · 4 months

Text

so what if mikage reo is running late and crashes to you—a culinary student, also late—on his rush. predictably, the coffee in his hand got spilled all over his expensive coat. unpredictably, you—a scholarship student too busy trying to survive—don't know how rich he actually is and automatically offer to compensate him somehow.

since washing his coat somehow will cost you ten times your rent while buying one is simply asking for a lifelong debt, you offer to him what you do best—your cooking for a full month. at first, reo really doesn't want it as he doesn't mind. also, stranger danger? but since you are adamant enough to even offer him "i will make it in front of you!" he ends up accepting it.

and somehow, as people say, a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. reo kind of falls in love a bit too hard and a bit too clumsily before he knows it. but hey, if the love of his life is offering him lunch with a full-blown smile maybe learning to be a proper domestic husband while juggling soccer and business is worth it.

#1:

"so, is it good?" you asked in the manner of a true excited cook.

reo wanted to say that he knew it would be good even before he put your food in his mouth. or say that even if you offer him to eat a marshmallow that is one fire he will still do it for you at this point. or maybe he really should just blurt out, "it is. please marry me and let me have your cooking for the rest of my life. i love you."

but, reo has his pride as your trusted food tester—so, with a wide grin that was objectively handsome if not a bit too full of love, reo answered, "very! guess, studying and testing all those spices really paid off, huh?"

#2:

"can you guys—" nagi paused, making a face as if he was tasting the words on his tongue, "—just get it together?"

you blinked. "uh? pardon?"

nagi didn't raise his head from his phone. "reo keeps looking at you like he wants to—"

"dude," chigiri interrupted, kicking nagi's leg visibly. nagi grunted, which chigiri ignored him in favor of offering you a nervous laugh instead. "sorry, reo kind of ruined his game yesterday. he kept grudges—"

"hey, reo kicked my head—"

chigiri immediately kicked nagi's shin hard enough that the table shook. you spared the white-haired male a pitying squint as you tried to not wince too much. you really should have gone to pick up the food with reo.

note: aka a post canon romcom au no plot no braincell just vibe of supportive x supportive. it's reo just falling in love with you who offer good food and good mental support. and hey this au entails classic "rich guy tries domestic mundane things he never even touch once" which of course would let to reo getting your guidance (while staring longing at you like a boy in love). at least this is reo, so through sheer power of natural learning capability and also love, he will do it right at the second or third time. oh, of course nagi and chigiri is there. chigiri wishes reo would stop bragging about your food and you if he isn't going to grow a bone and confess. nagi wishes reo would stop hitting him each time you send him an emoji or a praise—reo you are ruining his full combo. aka do you see idiot 1 & idiot 2? there is never too many idiots to lovers. might have went way too self indulgence thinking about this—"after bllk they still go to uni" this kind of thinking should tell you enough how many braincel is present here. but. uh yeah. "i want to support and comfort reo" is a feeling. anyway ok. thanks for reading this blurb i should be doing something else rn but 🫶 yeah have this. take this. love u.

#bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #reo fluff #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #ngl im also manifesting a culinary cutie rn so there is that. but im also manifesting actual mikage reo #but all in all the thought of two kind supportive people finding each other is a nice thought like “you deserves good things”#drabbles #drabble #maybe one day soon #blurbs

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ln444 · 4 months

Text

spider-man!lando

cw: strangers to friends to lovers, uni au, idiots in love, fluff fluff fluff, slight angst; comfort/hurt (reader comforting lando), sad and tired lando:::(((((, mention of blood/wounds/bruises.

words: ~1,5k

notes: hii i'm finally back:D, i've been thinking about abt spiderman lando for weeks now omg!!! anyway it took me so long to write this pls don't hesitate to leave feedbacks😭 enjoy<3

playlist (to listen to for a better experience !!!): daylight by harry styles, yellow by coldplay, sparks by coldplay (my fav song in the whole world)

______________________________________________

lando norris. the adorable, clumsy guy you spot every day in class. he's always in his own world, snoozing on his desk and consistently late –somehow managing to still have good grades. you've been watching him for a few weeks now, totally fascinated by the curly boy. a goofy smile always creeps onto your face when he does something silly like accidentally bumping into people and mumbling apologies or drooling on his notes while falling asleep in class.

oh, you definitely have a small crush on lando norris — or maybe even a big one. your mind has been filled with all sorts of ideas on how to approach him –daydreaming about it during class or as you're trying to fall asleep at night, finding yourself staring at your ceiling with a stupid grin, lost in thoughts of that adorable guy you've been keeping an eye on.

today, you stayed a bit longer in class, diligently recopying your notes from the previous lecture. however, you weren't alone; a dozing lando occupied a nearby table, blissfully drooling on his notes. concentration became a struggle as you wrapped up quickly, sighing as you stole glances at the dreamy boy. rapidly packing your bag without a sound, you approach him, taking a moment to admire the sleepy boy, a smile instantly gracing your lips as your heart melts. inhaling deeply, you find the courage to gently tap his shoulder.

"hey," you softly whisper, lando whimpering and stirring slightly. patiently, you wait, hoping his eyes will finally open. when they don't, a suppressed giggle will finally open, and you tap his shoulder again, a bit more insistently this time.

"wake up!" you whisper-scream, a blush coloring your cheeks as a hint of regret surfaces –maybe it was too much, maybe you should have let him sleep, uncertain if he'd appreciate your wake-up call. his eyes eventually flutter open, struggling to grasp the situation. once he does, he clears his throat, quickly fixing his posture and adjusting his glasses. the sight makes your heart feel like it might burst out of your chest.

"class is over," you say sofly, standing in front of him, resisting the urge to run your hand through his messy hair.

"what?" he groans, still attempting to shake off his sleepy state. "already?" he glances around in confusion, seeing the empty room before turning to you, finally becoming aware of the one who put him out of his sleep and his cheeks slightly turns red.

"do you need notes?" you ask, eager to have a conversation with him. the pink on your cheeks persists since he opened his eyes, intensifying as he looks at you with big, confused and sleepy eyes. his gaze shifts down to his notes, damp with drool, and suddenly his cheeks burns. clearing his throat once more, he nervously scratches the back of his head.

"oh... right... uh," his eyes return to you, hesitantly meeting yours, and you stand there, fighting the smile on your face. "i guess i could use some of your notes," he chuckles nervously, "if that's okay for you, of course!" he quickly adds, causing your heart to race dangerously close to exploding because of how cute he is.

"of course, you can give it back to me tomorrow," you smile, your stomach tightening with the anticipation of talking to him again.

"thank you," he softly says, still clearly in a sleep state and a bit lost, but he manages to offer you a shy smile that almost brings tears to your eyes.

"see you tomorrow, then," after giving him a final smile, you turn around, hearing a small "see ya!" behind you before leaving the class, feeling happier than ever.

lando runs a hand through his hair, attempting to process what just happened. conversations with people at uni is rare for him, making it a surprise when someone approaches. he gazes at the notes you handed him, lost in his thoughts for a few more minutes before reality hits him—he just embarrassed himself in front of a pretty girl.

"fuck..." a groan filled with frustration and embarrassment escapes his lips as he buries his face in his hands, his cheeks bruning.

______________________________

since that day, you and lando start having study sessions, usually at the library or in relaxed coffee shops. the transition is a bit of a mystery; lando returned your notes, and somehow, conversations about the lecture led you to offering help, which he accepted without hesitation.

your study sessions became more and more friendly, both of you getting comfortable in each other's company. you couldn't be happier, realizing that you get the chance to see him every day and appreciate the subtle details, like the way he crunches his nose when he is thinking or how his glasses slide down when he attentively listens to your explanations.

it's the way lando consistently gives you his full attention, not just during study sessions, but also when you share bits about yourself, your interests, or even random stuff you've seen on the internet or the way he never forgets to bring two snacks, always excited to share it with you and making sure you're eating and drinking well. despite his lateness, he puts effort to be present, sincerely apologizing and making it up to you everytime.

you somehow got used to his habit of arriving late, accepting that it's a part of who he is. even though frustration and questions nag at you occasionally, you never found the courage to ask and feel like you don't have the right to say anything. of course, there have been moments when you were mad, waiting for over an hour, but you're way too whipped for him to stay mad forever.

just like that, you find yourself slowly falling for lando. what started as a silly crush turned into something more profound; it's evident when butterflies go wild in your stomach at the sight of him, and your heart races unusually fast whenever he smiles at you.

lando can't quite understand how you've become a constant presence in his thoughts. the frequency of your hangouts has become unexpectedly high, something unusual for him. being spider-man and a student was already challenging enough; adding a social life seems nearly impossible. he tried before –having friends, attending parties, socializing –but it never lasted, the fatigue and busyness making it hard to keep up.

with you, everything feels different for lando. falling this hard was unexpected from the moment he first asked you to study with him. slowly, he starts making time for you, always finding a way to see you, even if study sessions became an excuse. you became a ray of sunshine in his life, bringing light to his otherwise tiring days. whenever he feels miserable, a glance at you makes everything feels right.

beyond study sessions, you both start having dates –that's how you secretly both call your hangouts. lando takes you to the arcade, introducing you to his favorite games, while you share cherished spots in your favorite park; sitting there, watching swans, you engage in lighthearted conversations, while your hearts secretly beat for each other, missing the subtle starstruck gazes and the way your cheeks burn when your hands accidentally brush against each other.

the worst part for lando is finding himself thinking about you even in the midst of fighting villains, getting distracted more than he should. it frustrates him how he can't shake you from his mind, even when he's spider-man. at first, he hated himself for it, attempting to ignore his growing feelings. but it become undeniable the day you smiled at him with the most sincere and loving expression. in that moment, he realized he was already too deep into it and let himself drown deeper into the feeling.

________________________________

letting out a frustrated whimper, you bury your head in your hands. you've been attempting to finish this essay for hours now, but thoughts of the curly-haired boy persistently invade your mind. you've tried to push him out, if only for a moment, to focus on this stupid homework, but he always finds a way back into your thoughts. being stuck in your small apartment due to villains doesn't make the situation any easier.

sighing for the umpteenth time tonight, you stare at the almost white screen of your pc, hoping that motivation will miraculously appear. amidst your frustration, a subtle noise catch your attention. you turn around, your eyes scanning outside. you notice nothing out of the ordinary, brushing it away and convincing yourself it was just a passing bird. you had bigger problems anyway.

as you try to refocus on your work, the persistent noise grows louder, intensifying your unease. determined to dismiss it, you turn around for a second time, only to be shocked by the unexpected sight of lando. his face is covered with bruises, and he's struggling to climb the last steps of the fire escape stairs. reacting quickly, you jump from your chair, urgently guiding your steps as you open the window to lend him a hand.

"oh my god lando!" you choke on your own split, and lando lets out a pained groan, fighting to maintain his balance as he relies on you. with careful effort, he makes it to the sofa, collapsing upon it. you rush to his side, cupping his bruised face, your heart sinking as you take a look at the injuries. the sight nearly brings you to tears, a mix of concern and distress filling your stomach.

lando looks drained, the effort to keep his eyes open visible on his face. despite the weakness, he manages to maintain an unwavering gaze locked onto yours. the pain you're reading in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart heavy.

"lando... what happened?" you say softly, your voice betraying the dryness in your throat. his response is delayed, taking a minute for lando to found the strength to answer. throughout this time, his hands grip your shirt, and his eyes remain fixed on yours, unbroken since he arrived.

"just a stupid fight... i'm fine," his voice is deep and weak, feeding your concern. despite the fatigue, he manages a small, gentle smile.

"what do you mean you're fine? are you kidding me?" you try to keep your voice soft, not wanting to add tension. "let me take care of you first, then you're going to tell me everything," with a sigh, you stand up, but lando's hands on your wrist stops you. you can't miss the painful groan that escapes him.

"i'm fine... i promise," he says weakly, his words carrying a weariness that tugs at your concern. "you're not fine, lando!" you voice unintentionally rises, a reflection of your worry, but you regret it the moment you lock your eyes with lando's softened gaze.

your hand instinctively reaches for his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the lines of his bruised skin. "it's okay, let me take care of you, please?" you implore, your voice adopting a softer tone. lando's heart seems to respond, warmth spreading as he relaxes, gently releasing your wrist.

"okay," he mumbles, too tired to resist, and you hurry to the bathroom to get your aid kit. returning swiftly, you find an exhausted lando, battling fatigue. your heart tightens, and you take a deep breath, holding back tears. lando starts regretting coming to you, the worry on your face making him feel guilty. as you come back, without a warning, you put an arm around him –and he's surprised that even in this awful state, you manage to make his heart beat faster. "let's get you on the floor," you gently suggest, doing your best to avoid hurting him. with a few soft whimpers, lando makes it to the ground, and you sit in front of him, getting the closer you can.

you gently take his chin between your fingers, inspecting the wounds again, unable to get over the extent of his injuries. lando feels his cheeks burn from the closeness and attention, his heart racing. without wasting any time, you start cleaning the bruises, handling him carefully.

your eyes shift to his white shirt, now stained with fresh blood, revealing notable marks underneath. a gasp escapes you, and you look at lando, your hands gripping the bottom of his shirt. "can i?" you timidly ask in a quiet voice, and lando don't hesitate to nod, trusting you more than anyone. you proceed to gently take off his shirt, ensuring not to cause him more pain. he winces, and your eyes fall on his wounded body, your hand instinctively covering your mouth. "oh my god..." you fingers trace the big and deep wounds, and lando watches you with remorseful eyes.

you don't add anything, wanting to take care of everything as soon as possible so he can finally rest. a comfortable silence fills the room as you begin with his face, gently cleaning and bandaging the wounds.

on the other hand, lando can't tear his eyes from you, enjoying your pouty expression because of your concentration. occasionally, he closes his eyes when you touch a sensitive area, his lips parting to release small groans. you find yourself apologizing each time, looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

you take a second look at his blood-covered body, and a million of questions race through your mind. this can't be a simple fight. lost in your thoughts, you don't notice lando's gaze or the flush on his cheeks due to your intense staring of his chest. he's about to call your name, but you're quicker than him.

"are you hiding something, lando?" you gently speak, your hands cupping his face with tenderness. you give him a soft look that seeks not just the truth but a shared vulnerability. lando opens his mouth to respond, but the words gets stuck in his throat, caught between the desire to tell you everything and the fear of exposing too much.

"i..." he starts, the weight of unspoken words evident in his eyes. sensing his struggle, you lean in closer, a soft and reassuring forming on your lips. your fingertips dance gently over his cheek. "you know you can tell me everything, right ?" you whisper, your voice filled with understanding. lando don't even dare to blink, drawn into the sincerity in your gaze.

without hesitation, he closes the gap with a tender kiss. your mind momentarily pauses, trying to process the situation. slowly, you kiss him back, feeling the heaviness of his heart in the softness of the kiss.

pulling back slowly, your eyes meet again, and there is a change in lando's expression. the warmth is replaced by a hint of concern, even sadness, making you rise an eyebrow curiously; "wh-"

"i'm spider-man."

his words hang in the air, and it takes a moment for you to process, leaving lando feeling like he's on the verge of a breakdown. completely petrified, he continues, "i understand if you don't want to see me anymore... i-"

"lando," you try to cut him off, but he's panicking, his eyes welling up, and it tugs your heart. "god, i'm so stupid," the instant regret hits him, he keeps mumbling, expressing his fear of messing everything up. it becomes too much for him, and he bursts into tears. without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as tight as you can.

"hey, you're okay. it's okay, i'm here," you softly whisper in his ear, your hand gently rubbing his back. the sound of his sobs makes your heart ache, as if it's breaking into pieces. "i'm so tired," his voice is muffled, but you can hear all the pain and exhaustion in it. your stomach tightens, feeling your own eyes burn as you try to hold back the tears.

you let him cry in your arms for a moment, letting him take it all out, whispering sweet and reassuring words in his ears. your hand hasn't left his hair, stroking it gently. you feel him finally calm down, his sobs getting quieter.

he finally decide to look up, meeting your eyes and the sight breaks your heart; his eyes are puffed and red, accentuated by his bandaged bruises. you immediately grab his face, overwhelmed by a sudden rush of empathy and affection.

"do you still want me? even if i'm spider-man," his voice is soft, and you could feel all the exhaustion in it.

"of course, lando, why wouldn't i?" you reply without any second thought, sincerity evident in your eyes, softening lando's heart.

"i don't know... i'm always late and... tired," his voice is weak and hesitant, and you wish he'd stop talking and just rest.

"you're always late, but you're always here. you always do your best to make it." you reassure him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer with a soft smile. "it's okay to be tired, especially with your life, you should never apologize for that." your hand finds its way to his hair, "even when you're tired, you find the strength to take care of me and spend time with me. and for me, that means a lot," you gently stroke his hair, comforting him.

lando's eyes remain locked onto yours, caught in the sincerity they hold, and he swears his heart could explode at any moment just from hearing your words.

"you're so good to me..." he says in a whisper, pulling you into a quick but sweet kiss that makes both of your hearts melt. "of course, you deserve it," you whisper back, stealing a other kiss. "let me finish taking care of you, and then you can finally rest." you don't give him the time to complain, pulling back to resume cleaning his wounds.

after what felt like an eternity, you finish bandaging the last wound, looking up to find an exhausted lando. he fell asleep multiple times but insisted on staying awake until you finish. without wasting a minute, you put your arm around him to help him up, struggling to guide him to the bed where he manages to use his last drops of strength to remove his pants. once he's laid on the bed, you turn around to clean up the bandages on the floor, but lando immediately stops you, pulling you down.

"don't go," he whispers, and you smile, laying beside him without any hesitation, welcomed by his warm embraced.

you gaze at the sleepy boy beside you, your fingers gently ghosting his cheek.

"thank you," he says softly, and the sincerity in his words resonates. you offer him a loving smile, putting your lips on his for a passionate kiss. you manage to pull away just in time before lando succumbs to the sandman.

in that moment, it hits you—the boy you've fallen in love with is spider-man. a proud smile spreads across your face as you look at the peacefully sleeping lando beside you.

"i'm so proud of you," you whisper, determined to repeat those words to him tomorrow and every single day after that.

_________________________________________________

tysm for reading! don't hesitate to leave a feedback if you liked it<3

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris drabble #lando norris angst #lando norris f1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 fluff #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 angst

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wonwayne · 4 months

Text

whatever you say ☁️ park jongseong

pairing : bf!jay x fem!reader genre : tooth-rotting fluff warnings : none! word count : 0.85k

a/n : i don't really know what this is. but it's cute. (just HAD to write on this thought [creds to @atrirose] because husband material jay !!)

home. nothing felt better than coming back from an achingly long work day to the smell of you. closing the door softly behind him, jay let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. comfort always seemed to creep up on him like this, with subtle reminders in the air that you would always be there for him, ready to—

“help me build the titanic?”

you beamed up at your boyfriend, legs crossed on the living room carpet, encircled by seemingly infinite lego pieces in red, white, yellow, and black.

not quite what jay was expecting to come home to. but he approached your little recreation ground anyway, lunging carefully towards the box packaging. “another 2000+ piece lego set?”

“9000!”

“oh—”

“9090, to be exact.”

jay nodded, kneeling down by the carpet to match your eye level. “... that’s really—”

“wait no, 9092! sorry i keep correcting myself, it’s just that i forgot to add the jack and rose minifigures.” you pointed proudly at the thumb-sized people. “once i’m done with the ship, i’m going to have them at the bow like that iconic scene. and then maybe every few days i’ll move them to the floor and put rose on a little door.” you held lego jack up to your boyfriend’s face. “you look just like him.”

he glanced to the side before mirroring its boxy grin. “do i?” you nodded vigorously. “well that’s very flattering, y/n, but i should say,” and he looked emphatically at the heap of legos strewn between him and you, “you’re making it very hard for me to hug you. any closer, and i’m bound to step on a lego here.”

your expression morphed instantly from disquiet to delight. god, you could never get over how adorable he was when he said the sweetest things in the sternest voice. “i’m sorry!” you burst out, sweeping the pieces to the side and jumping into your boyfriend’s arms. “i’ll be right at the door to hug you next time.”

“thank you, love,” he murmured as he kissed the top of your head, “keep working, i’ll make dinner and help build as soon as i can.”

even more adorable, you thought, for calling your lego-building “work.”

tragically, jay found you breaking your promise just a few evenings following. anticipating your pretty face peeking out of the doorway, he practically raced out of the apartment elevator. but instead of anything to look for, he was met by faint screams and hearty laughs — your laugh among them, and panic consumed him. who would she be laughing with in OUR apartment besides me? why the screams?? what if she’s—

bursting the door open, he was yet again unable to make sense of… you. you, belting taylor swift at the top of your lungs, dappled with rainbow light under the mini disco ball you’d set up in the far corner, mid-cartwheel with a wireless mic in one hand, dangerously close to crashing into both your partners in crime, jake and sunghoon.

they steered clear of you swiftly before freezing at the sight of a narrow-eyed jay.

“uh, y/n,” sunghoon began (poor boy), “i think—”

“—BUT THIS LOVE IS BRAVE AND WIIIIIIIILLLLLDDDDDD,” you persisted, thoroughly unaware of your boyfriend’s presence, and nearly assaulting the sofa as you landed from the cartwheel.

it took you till the end of the song’s bridge to notice your friends’ conspicuous silence. following their uneasy gaze, you saw jay maintaining the hardest poker face you’d ever seen him wear before.

but forget the “oh hi”s, skip the “let me explain”s — you glided over to where jay stood by the entrance and, offering the mic to him, sang quietly: “and i neverrrrrr saw you comiiiiiiiiiiing.” you sounded impossibly good.

“you should’ve,” he said, voice low, and with the hint of a pout, “seen me coming.” at a louder volume, he addressed the boys while his arms wrapped around your waist, “why do i have to come home to these two losers making a mess on a respectable thursday evening?”

jake opened his mouth to protest, but jay’s attention was already back to you. “you invited them?” he asked casually, pulling you closer in.

“i was getting bored without you,” and it was your time to pout, “had to unwind somehow.” you conveniently left out the detail that you had organized the whole “mess” in the house, and that the other two had played absolutely no part.

“with karaoke at the ungodly hour?”

“well, only because you arrived at an ungodly hour.”

he paused for a moment, then conceded, “right. of course, love, i’m sorry.”

you missed jake’s priceless expression as he made eye contact with jay across the room.

“P A R T N E R P R I V I L E G E,” he mouthed as aggressively as he could.

jay scoffed, and buried his chin deeper into the crook of your neck.

the only privilege, he would tell the boys later, was that of him having you in his life.

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bruciemilf · 1 year

Text

“This reminds me of playtime back home,” Diana’s smile is pearly and smudged with blood, and Bruce struggles not to stare.

He won’t point out that she just ripped an alien apart with her bare hands and way too little effort.

He wants to. Anyone would have words faced with gods, but he doesn’t trust his conversation skills.

“Hn.”

“Boy, you’re a chatty one,” Green Lantern is positively insufferable.

He’s whip-smart, dangerously brave, selfless and tactical when needs be, but insufferable all the same, “ Also, cool boomerang.”

Defensive, Bruce grips the gadget a little closer to his hip, “It’s a batarang.” And it was my son’s idea. Of course it’s impressive.

The brunette snorts, Diana chuckling alongside him, both entirely too bright for the gore on their clothes, “Oh yeah, that sounds so much better. But you obviously know how to handle it, I’ll tell you that much,”

inwardly, Bruce frowns. Why would he design a weapon he couldn’t use?

“Yes, your combat skills are impressive! You must do your tribe proud,”

Involuntarily, his head lowers in embarrassment. The cowl feels ten times hotter now, and he wants to snarl at Superman for tugging at the pointy ears. His smile just blinds him too much, that’s all.

Aquaman picks body matter out of his hair, beach sand blonde, sending The Flash a smirk Bruce assumes is teasing.

He can’t quite tell. They’ve known each other for 10 hours, 20 minutes, and 32 seconds, and an odd, familiar energy had settled. “At least you’re not the only nerd in class.”

The Flash is young; Bruce notes the eagerness in his footsteps, the reckless courage, the perseverance to fight for the world and against it;

More than anything, he notices pride sparking a light in his chest.

“Not a nerd!"

"Whatever, speedy,"

"This nerd saved your well-conditioned ass! But anyway, DUDE, – I mean, can we talk about the tech? Just, – I need to know how you designed that utility belt, because holy FUCK, -,”

There’s a full minute of just animated hand gestures, plentiful explanations, queries, and Bruce of course pays attention to all of it.

The Flash, – Barry, as he accidentally revealed five minutes in, too lost in excitable rambling to notice, – stops, frowns,

“Uh, dude? I mean, obviously, the whole,” he gestures to the entirety of Bruce, “Man Bat thing, that rocks, but isn’t it easier to just use your powers?”

Superman’s fingers snap, “I was wondering about that! Why didn’t you?”

But there’s an underlying hint that the man already suspects it; It makes Bruce’s teeth grind anxiously, looking around expectant, curious eyes,

“I don’t have superpowers,” the truth spills in a rush, and Bruce doesn’t take it back in time.

They share stunned looks between them, but sky-blue eyes, peppered with a ring of brown in the left one, those stay on him. He’s uncomfortable with the appreciative gleam.

Superman smirks, “We should do this again!”

#do you ever go crazy insane over bruce being the only human - mortal - member of the JL and not only keeping up with LITERAL OTHERWORDLY #super beings. and demi gods. and metahumans that bend and break the law of physics #but actively shocking them with how capable and resistant and enduring he is #cause i do. i am INSANE abt him actually. but also!! your honor they are FRIENDS #the justice league #dc #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #barry allen #arthur curry #hal jordan #diana prince #wonder woman #clark kent #superbat #text

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libraryofgage · 3 months

Text

Addams Family B-Side Four

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four (you’re here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One

Here it is boys!

Actually, this part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned lol

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Anyway, we have more developments in this chapter! I hope you enjoy them 👀

A meme is at the end for your entertainment too!

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

-------

Eddie has plans for the walk to Steve's house. He's going to compliment the bats on Steve's cropped hoodie. He's going to ask if Steve is aware he's allergic to raspberries. He's going to gently broach the subject of how Steve knows Pubert Addams.

And then, in a moment of cosmic injustice, Pubert fucking Addams is waiting with Steve at the end of the day. Eddie slows some when he sees them, his gaze lingering on Pubert as Steve offers him a thermos to drink from. He passes it back, and Steve looks like he's going to take a sip as well when Eddie calls out, "Stevie!"

Something gratifying and warm floods through him when Steve stops and looks his way. A smile tugs at his lips as Eddie hurries over, relieved to see the thermos being capped and put away. "Hope you didn't wait too long on me," Eddie says.

"We did," Pubert replies, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him away.

Eddie frowns and catches up. "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Pubert and I walk together," Steve says, easily slipping his hand from Pubert's grip and moving to walk closer to Eddie. Their shoulders brush, Eddie gets another whiff of that cookies and cream scent, and Pubert glares. It's perfect. "Because we live next door to each other."

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly. Before he can say anything, Pubert smirks. "That's right," he says, pulling a cigar from his pocket. "We've known each other all our lives."

He strikes a match against his palm and lights the cigar, passing the match to Steve. When he takes it, Steve just lets the flame burn. Eddie watches as it gets dangerously close to Steve's fingertips, and without thinking, he licks his thumb and forefinger and pinches the flame to put it out.

Steve glances at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Our parents are r--"

"Rather close," Pubert says, cutting Steve off and making Eddie's eye twitch at how rude it was. "In fact, Steve's parents specially requested I look after him at school."

"Oh," Eddie says, "you're the babysitter."

Pubert blinks and then frowns, looking upset that Eddie isn't more visibly jealous. That's good. That means Eddie is managing to hide his seething anger and envy well.

"So," Eddie says, deciding to steer the conversation away from Pubert. If he does it right, he can even ice him out entirely. "Why'd you transfer here, Stevie?"

"I caused irreparable emotional, psychological, and physical damage to students at my old school," Steve replies, finally passing the burnt match back to Pubert. He smiles lightly and adds, "That's what the police report says, anyway."

Eddie hums softly. "And, uh, why did you do that?"

"They wouldn't go to a museum with me."

"Sounds like they were just dumb, then."

That earns him a bright smile as Steve and Pubert stop outside a two-story home with fountains and cherub statues and an immaculate green lawn. It's surrounded by a white picket fence, the kind Eddie thought only existed in movies and 1950s nuclear family propaganda. Next to this house is a Gothic manor, for lack of a better description. It's dark, jagged, and seems to have clouds hanging over its rusted wrought iron fence.

"This is us," Steve says, gesturing to the Barbie Dreamhouse. "I'll see you tomorrow, Pubert."

With that, Steve grabs Eddie's hand and quickly pulls him through the fence's gate like they can't get inside fast enough. By the time Eddie has blinked, a large door is shutting behind him and he's standing in a foyer. "I'm home!" Steve calls, pulling off his shoes and gesturing for Eddie to do the same.

As he's wobbling to stay balanced while tugging one of his boots off, footsteps echo from the kitchen and a man's voice replies, "Welcome home, Steve!"

Eddie gets his first boot off and looks up as the owner of the voice steps into the foyer. The only thing that keeps him from dropping his shoe at the sight of the man is the unwavering desire to make a good impression on Steve and his parents.

"Father," Steve says, waving the man closer. "This is Eddie. We're going to be working on a project together. Eddie, this is my father, Fester."

Eddie sets his boot down and nods, taking the hand Fester offers. His skin is cold and clammy, probably corpse-like if Eddie had to guess, but he shakes with enthusiasm. Literally. The man's body is practically buzzing. "Great to finally meet you! Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable. We'd love to have you for dinner."

"I thought we were having pot roast," Steve says.

"The oven is big enough for both."

It's a normal enough greeting and joking exchange that Eddie relaxes. He can see some of Steve's energy in Fester, the same wild glint in his eyes, and a similarly overwhelming gaze. Though, it puts him a little on edge when it's coming from Fester. Still. The same.

"Thanks. I, uh, I'll have to check about dinner, I guess, but I'll let you know." Fester drops his hand as he speaks, and Eddie hurries to take off his other boot.

"Of course," Fester says, nodding once. "You two go work. Just scream if you need anything."

"We will," Steve replies, waving for Eddie to follow him up a grand staircase. Literally. Eddie can't think of any other way to describe the marble steps with a polished railing and gilded edges. The whole thing looks like someone from HGTV should be waltzing through a doorway to describe the exact shade of paint they used.

He takes as much of it in as he can, eyes wide as Steve leads him to a balcony that overlooks the foyer. There are only two doors here, both of them across from each other, and Steve leads him to the one on the right. It's painted a soft yellow that reminds Eddie of ducklings.

"Oh," Eddie says, his voice soft and his eyes wide as he realizes just how rich Steve's family is.

The room is practically the size of Eddie's home and sectioned off into different areas. Against the back wall is a dramatic four-poster king-sized bed with one of those gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling above it. The wall behind it is covered with flowering vines that crawl up and reach outward from behind the bed. A tiny three-step staircase to the left of it leads to what Eddie assumes is the bathroom, considering the edge of a sink that he can see through the crack in the door. To the right is a doorway that leads to a balcony, and Eddie can see a small set of porch furniture through the glass.

To Eddie's immediate left is a whole corner dedicated to a grand piano. Not a mini one, but a full-sized grand piano and its bench. A bookcase pushed against the wall next to it is filled with books of sheet music. To his immediate right is a large work table. Papers are scattered across it, and Eddie wouldn't think anything was wrong if not for the wall of weaponry directly above it. Swords, maces, a few tasers, two spears, and one trident, among others, are carefully arranged on hooks and display pins.

Suddenly, Eddie thinks about that mace Steve pulled out when they first met. He'd told himself that Steve couldn't possibly have been serious about using it, but now he's starting to second guess that assumption.

"Where do you work best?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie from his thoughts about the weaponry wall.

"Oh, uh, on the floor," he says.

Steve smiles and leads Eddie over to the glass balcony doors, sitting directly in a ray of sunshine that makes his hair glow and creates a halo effect. Eddie nervously wipes his palms on his jeans before sitting across from Steve, marveling at how plush the carpet is.

"What did you think of my idea in class?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie before pulling notebooks and pens out of his bag.

It takes a few seconds for Eddie's brain to catch up. "I like it," he says, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Do you actually find it interesting, though? I mean...you don't really..."

"Look like I know anything about heavy metal?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think the genre is given a little too much credit for converting people to Satanism. I mean, it's just discounting the work put in by others, you know? As a genre, though, it's pretty revolutionary, right? Like, it was doing and saying stuff nobody had heard before when it first made an appearance."

The more Eddie listens, the more excited he gets. Not only is Steve gorgeous and wild and unpredictable, he also knows a little about heavy metal and doesn't just write it off as unintelligible noise.

"How much of a history lesson are you prepared for, big boy?" Eddie asks, unable to help his grin as he leans forward.

Steve imitates his lean, his own smile a little softer. Eddie misses the way it becomes just a tiny bit smug when he glances down to see Steve's top hanging forward enough to see his chest. He's just about to do something incredibly stupid when Steve says, "As much as you're willing to give me."

Eddie blinks and looks back up, searching Steve's eyes for a few seconds. He doesn't seem sarcastic. In fact, he seems happy to listen to Eddie describe the genre, which only makes his already monumental crush grow three sizes.

--------

Eddie's heavy metal history lesson takes the better part of an hour to get through, and Steve spends the entire time slowly inching his way closer. He crosses the space between them as Eddie describes foundational bands and concept albums and the branching off of heavy metal from the rock 'n' roll genre tree.

By the time Eddie starts to lose steam, his eyes still bright and his face red from barely breathing the entire time, their knees are pressed together, Steve is happily leaning closer to occupy more of his space, and Eddie's hand had gravitated to Steve's calf without permission.

Steve smiles, happily filing away for later the bands Eddie mentioned and the albums he particularly liked. "So," he says, his voice soft but easily getting Eddie's attention, "sounds like we know everything for our presentation."

"You got the perfect partner for this project, sweetheart."

His grin widens, and Steve hums softly, leaning a little closer. This seems like a perfect chance to put one of his mother's lessons into action: ambiguously hint at more but don't follow through. "I'm not doing much work, though," he says, placing his hand on Eddie's knee.

Eddie squirms slightly, glancing down at Steve's hand before looking back up, a blush crawling along his cheeks and reaching for his ears. "You can, uh, design it. Yeah. Design the presentation."

"Is that really all I could do?"

Steve can see the moment Eddie registers his meaning, his eyes widening and the blush officially spreading to his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth, glances away, and seems to blurt out the first thing he can think of to change the subject. "So, uh, w-what's with the weapons?"

"Doesn't everyone have a weapons wall?"

"Yeah, no. Uh, that might just be you, Stevie."

Steve tilts his head, humming softly as he glances at his weapons. "They're weapons I've won fights with," he says, looking back at Eddie with a bright smile. "I'm the best fighter in the family."

"Oh. Cool. And, who were you...fighting?"

"My cousins. Wednesday is the best opponent. She fights dirty. Pugsley isn't much of a fighter, really. What is much faster than me, but they always trip over their hair. I haven't won against Uncle Gomez just yet, but he has years of practice on me. Aunt Tish says it's just a matter of time, anyway. The trident, though, that was a bar mitzvah gift."

"You're Jewish?"

"On my mother's side."

"Oh," Eddie says, glancing at the wall again. His eyes linger on the trident for a moment before he asks, "And what about your dad's side?"

"I'm an Addams."

"An....Addams?"

Steve knows he's just killed Pubert's fun, but he doesn't care. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry for and about Steve. "Fester Addams," he says, "Harrington is just a name of a family friend on my mom's side. She thought it sounded nicer."

Eddie's brain is visibly chugging along, turning this information over until his eyes spark with anger and frustration, his hand on Steve's calf tightening without him realizing. "And Pubert?" he asks, his voice low and more of a growl than anything else.

It sends an excited shiver down Steve's spine, and he suddenly knows Eddie can be mean and vicious and merciless if Steve only nurtured those tendencies with very positive reinforcement. "Pubert's great with explosives, but he's not good at close range fights. He doesn't even protect his kidneys. They're so easy to stab," Steve replies.

"Well, if it's that easy," Eddie mutters.

His words send a thrill down Steve's spine, and he can't help leaning into his space. He places his hands on Eddie's thighs for balance, far above the knee, and only stops when their noses are almost brushing. "I could hold him down for you," he offers, hearing Eddie gulp at their proximity.

"I, uh, might take you up on that," Eddie whispers, glancing down at Steve's mouth and staring at it.

Steve waits a few seconds, but Eddie doesn't do anything more. He internally sighs, lamenting the lack of initiative but happy that he gets to keep teasing, and leans back. "Well, just let me know," he says, his voice light as he shifts out of Eddie's reach.

He picks up his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page, and looks up. Eddie is staring at him like he's just seen Heaven only for the gates to close on him. He looks desperate but confused, and Steve decides it's a very cute look on him. "So, do you want to hear my ideas for the presentation?" he asks, flashing an innocent smile that pulls Eddie back to the present.

"Yeah. Sure. Explain away," Eddie says, his voice a little strained. Pride swells in Steve's chest at having caused the strain, and he pretends not to notice Eddie's attempts to subtly inch closer as he outlines design ideas.

When Eddie is finally close enough for their shoulders to touch, Steve rewards his initiative by leaning against him.

-------

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

And now, two more memes because they're both funny

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #addams steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #addams family crossover #my writing

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kilistina · 1 year

Text

what happens here, stays here

word count: 9k-ish

disc. nsfw content ahead. mdni. includes fem!reader n eddie munson, a lot of angst, lowkey slow burn, smuuut n just hot shit tbh.

•••

You’re not sure exactly how you ended up here, but you did. Your friends had told you that there was a strange clock in the middle of the woods that made the birds flock together and the sky turn dark. You were curious, sure, but you didn’t intend on coming to see it all for yourself. But like always, you were forced convinced.

“So there’s this clock, right,” Your friend Sophie had the biggest smile on her face as she spoke about it, “Apparently Chrissy said it made weird noises the last time she was in the woods. Made the birds go crazy and everything.”

“We should go check it out.” Maise, one of your other friends chimed in. Everyone nodded in agreement and stood from their chairs, making their way out of the cafeteria.

“You coming, Y/N?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” You shrugged and tightened your grip on your bag, “I’m kinda tired and—”

Sophie held her hand up and you immediately stopped talking, knowing that she wasn’t going to listen to you if you kept going anyway. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards her.

“All I’m hearing right now is a yes.”

You sighed and ended up giving in, walking with Sophie, Maise and your other friends towards the woods. One thing led to another and you were misdirected somewhere, and they all bailed on you to spend time with some of the boys on the basketball team.

The clock didn’t chime, the birds didn’t flock, the sky didn’t go dark. So it was safe for you to be left alone..right?

So here you are, abandoned in the woods with no clue where to go. You can’t even remember where you left your bag. All you can think about is how much you wish Steve and Robin were here with you right now. They’d know what to do.

“Stupid fucking family video.” You murmur to yourself as you trek through the woods, cursing at the fact that your only real friends are currently hung up with their jobs.

You knew you shouldn’t have come here. You knew that there was no point. You knew you couldn’t trust those girls. Yet here. You. Are.

The sound of the clock finally striking makes you jump, and you notice that the sky is starting to darken. Chrissy was right.

Wait—Chrissy was right??

You notice the birds all flying down from the sky, quickly getting lower and lower until they’re—

“Shit!” You duck your head down as they all fly past you. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest.

Once they’ve all flown away, you stand back up and begin speedwalking down the woods. You don’t know where you’re going, but what you do know is that you won’t be staying here for a second longer. Not willingly, anyway. You cross your arms over your chest and keep your eyes on the ground as you make your way. You’re stranded.

Your mind begins to wander to the most worrying outcomes imaginable. You start to picture all the different ways you could die out here. And there’s so many fucking ways.

A second bell toll makes you jump. You turn your head as you walk, checking if there are any more birds making their way to you dangerously quickly. Nothing.

Nothing behind you at least.

“Fuck!” You gasp and step back after bumping into someone. Your fear quickly dissipates into anger when you notice who it is that you bumped into.

“Woah, hey, sorry. Easy there,” Eddie holds his hands up, chuckling as he eyes you up and down. “Oh, it’s you,” His smile drops once he notices your face, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You hold your hand up to your chest, trying to catch your breath, “I could ask you the same thing, freak.”

“So original,” He rolls his eyes, taking a cigarette out from his back pocket, “I’m always around here. It’s where I handle business.”

You scoff, “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

He lights his cigarette and takes a drag, not bothering to answer you yet.

You two have been at each other’s throats for years now. It’s as if no matter what either of you do, no matter what you say, it always ends in someone getting hurt or annoyed. There’s always an argument that leads to irreversible disrespect. You despise each other, and there hasn’t been a single moment between the two of you where you haven’t made that clear.

“It’s what I’ve always called it,” Eddie finally answers you, giving you a dirty look, “Sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? That’s new.”’ You shoot back a reply, making sure to keep your distance as you continue to walk. The last thing either of you want is to be close to each other.

Eddie stops walking for a moment to turn and face you.

“Yeah well annoying bitch kinda got old and lost its spark,” He shrugs, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it, “So sweetheart it is. You probably hate it more because it’s actually nice.” He’s right.

“I do,” You nod, unable to stop the humoured smile from showing on your face. Eddie smiles back at you.

You both smile for a second, laughing softly and almost enjoying each other’s company for once. You don’t know why, but it’s nice. It’s a strange new feeling—neither of you like it.

The laughter slowly fades and there’s a silence between the two of you again. An uncomfortable silence. Not the type of silence that you’d hope for, where you don’t have to listen to his annoying voice and he doesn’t have to listen to yours. The type where you both don’t know what to say.

The type of silence you’ve never had before.

“So,” You clear your throat, finally speaking up, “Where are your friends, freak?”

“I don’t have friends,” He murmurs with a low chuckle, laughing at his own joke, “Even if I did, I wouldn’t bring them out here.”

You smirk at him, “Why not? Worried they’ll get scared like you do?”

“I don’t like to mix my friends and my business. I came out here to do a deal and lost track of time,” He rolls his eyes and stays serious, not engaging in your attempts to piss him off, “Tend to do that a lot now.”

You purse your lips together to stop yourself from making another smartass remark as you both walk further. You have no idea where you are, and truthfully you hate the idea of Eddie being the only person who you can rely on to get you home safely.

“Where did you come from?” He asks, keeping his eyes in front of him. It’s typical for you both to take every possible chance not to look at each other.

“I don’t know, it all looks the same.” You murmur, feeling the fear start to creep back in. You’re stuck in the woods with someone you despise—who despises you right back—you have no idea how you’re going to get home, and shit is getting real.

“Do you remember something? A log? A tree? Something distinguishable? Anything?” Eddie’s voice breaks you out of your overthinking for a moment.

“There was a table,” You narrow your eyes in thought, “Big and circle. Had a black, uneven guitar drawn on the side of it.”

Eddie nods, seeming to know what you’re talking about, “Fucking love that dumb black guitar. It’s so metal.”

His words make you scoff and you stop walking. He stops as well, turning to face you and you finally share some eye contact.

“You drew it yourself, didn’t you?” You guess, pretending to sound serious.

His face scrunches up in defence, “So what if I did?”

“Brilliant..” You exhale, holding your hand up to your forehead, “Let’s go. I don’t think I can stand to be near you for another minute.”

“Touche,” He eyes you up and down with narrowed eyes, holding his arm out in front of him, “Anyway, ladies first right? After you, milady.”

You roll your eyes and quickly walk past him, knowing that he’s only going to overtake you and guide you to wherever you need to go. He just wants to wind you up as much as possible before that, first.

After ten minutes of silent walking, you both end up at the circle table, and for a moment you smile to yourself knowing that you can finally go home. Eddie helped you, who woulda thunk it?

“Circle table, metal guitar drawing, middle of nowhere. This is what you were looking for, right?” Eddie smirks at you, proud of himself for helping you. It takes every muscle in your body to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him, but you don’t, knowing that if it wasn’t for him you’d still be lost in the middle of nowhere.

Instead of thanking him, you stay silent. He enjoys it.

You’re happy and relieved for a split second, before you realise something.

“Right well, if we’re done here then..” Eddie begins to step away, stopping once he notices the worried expression on your face, “You okay?”

“My bag, it’s—it’s gone.” You bend over and begin to look under the table for any sign of it.

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” He kneels, helping you look under and around the table for your bag.

“I mean I left it here and it’s not fucking here anymore, Eddie!” You raise your voice, running your hand through your hair as you stand up.

“Well,” Eddie slaps his hands on his knees, standing back up, “You’re fucked.”

You scoff, “Brilliant.”

He takes a step towards you, looking like he might say something. You mentally prepare yourself for an argument and keep your gaze firm on him, refusing to back down. He notices, and sighs, deciding against speaking yet. Instead, he turns around and begins to walk again. You follow him.

“Where are you going?” You sound annoyed, but not as annoyed as you actually are. You know you’ve been pushing your luck with him and you don’t want to risk him leaving you out here on your own. You need his help. More of it.

“Did you have anything valuable in your bag?” He ignores your question and asks his own.

You shrug, “Just books from school and—” Your eyes widen, “—my keys..”

He stops walking and turns to face you, “Keys for what?”

You stay silent out of shock.

“Y/N..keys for what?”

You groan, “My house.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, grinding his teeth together, “Shit.”

You can’t believe what’s happening. Not only were you left here by people who forced you to come with them—people who you considered friends—but now you’re don’t know where you are and you’ve lost your bag. You’ve lost your only way home with it.

And now you’re stuck here with Eddie fucking Munson.

“Yeah,” You scoff quietly to yourself at how easily you’ve ended up in such a horrendous situation, “Shit.”

“Okay, what about your parents?” He points at you, trying to spit ball some suggestions.

“I don’t have parents.” Your comment is crude but Eddie doesn’t seem fazed.

“Fuck me, same,” He replies quickly and moves on to thinking about what to do, “Uh..we’ll just have to—”

“Where are we?” You cut him off and look around where you are, trying to see if there’s any trace of the school or the rest of the town.

Nothing.

Eddie sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, “Y/N, please, one issue at a time.”

You cross your arms over your chest, making him sigh, “It’s too dark to tell. We’ll just have to walk far enough to see something in the distance. A car, a house, anything really. That’ll let us know where we are.”

“Don’t you have a flashlight?” You let out an aggravated breath.

“A flashl—“ Eddie scoffs, “Do I look like I have a—no seriously, what part of me screams I carry a flashlight with me everywhere I go to you?” He swings his arms around theatrically and you roll your eyes at him. He’s always so fucking dramatic.

“It’s dark, Y/N,” Eddie gives you a fake exaggerated smile, dropping it in a second, “But it’s not that dark. I can still fucking see you and those eyes.”

“You know what, why don’t you fucking bite me Eddie? How about that? How about you—“

Before you can start going off at Eddie for how excrutiatingly annoying he is, he yells to “Watch out!” and grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you down to the ground and falling on top of you.

Everything happens so quickly and you’re taken by surprise, too much to even react. All you do is gasp and look up ahead of you, noticing two bats flying past the two of you.

You figure that Eddie was trying to help you again somehow, even though those two bats couldn’t have done a single thing to harm you. They weren’t swarming you, they weren’t even flying at that fast of a pace like the other birds were from earlier. They were just..there. Just existing.

You shift your gaze back to Eddie, who’s looking down at you. Your faces are close..too close. For some reason, neither of you are moving.

You feel his hands right where they were before, on your waist holding you in place. Your eyes move down to where he’s holding you, and that’s when he snaps out of his daze. He quickly moves his hands off of you, standing up and clearing his throat.

“S—sorry, there were just—the bats were uh—“ Eddie scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, struggling to get his words out.

“There were two bats, Eddie. Two. It was nothing.” You chuckle, patting your shirt down as you stand back up, “What, are you scared of them or something?” You don’t put much thought into your comment—you just want to make fun of him for something stupid.

But his reaction to you—the way his entire body stiffens and his jaw tenses, the way his eyes narrow, the way he grits his teeth together for a moment—you can tell that this hits a little too close to home. Even for him.

“Just feel weird,” He shrugs, clearly playing down his fear and deflecting, “Always feel weird when I see bats.”

You might not be the smartest person, but you’re smart enough to realise that there’s something about this that Eddie isn’t telling you. You’re not friends though, so he doesn’t owe you anything—including an explanation.

You decide against pestering him over it further, and you both continue to walk down the woods in silence, in search of a smoking gun.

•••

You’re not sure how long it’s been, but you’re exhausted. You’re cold, your feet hurt, your minds an absolute mess and you have no idea where you’re going to sleep tonight.

You pretend to be distracted by the trees around you, looking around as you walk to avoid looking in Eddie’s direction. He notices but he doesn’t say anything.

You take a deep breath to compose yourself before speaking up, “How much longer till we’re out of here?”

“When I’m lost? Normally takes an hour, give or take.”

You nod and cross your arms over your chest, accepting it. Eddie notices your demeanour before he turns his back to you.

“You okay?” He asks, almost sounding like he gives half a fuck about you. Almost.

He keeps walking, not bothering to look at you and wait for your reply. Again, you both despise each other. But at least he’s trying. At least he’s asking you questions.

“It’s dark and I’m cold,” You murmur, “So no.”

He chuckles, “It’s the middle of the night and we’re in the woods.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “Alright hotshot, show me the way home then since you know everything.”

“I will,” He nods, turning briefly to give you a smirk before continuing to walk next to you, “You can stop doing that by the way.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just sick of you running your mouth instead of taking me home.” You let out another sigh.

“That,” He turns and clicks his fingers, pointing at you and narrowing his eyes, “Right there. See? You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” You scoff in defence.

Eddie tenses his jaw for a moment and you can’t help but smile to yourself, knowing that you’re getting on his nerves the same way he’s getting on yours.

“Acting like you somehow know better just ‘cause you’re pretty.” He murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

“You think I’m pretty?” You put your hand on your chest and pretend to be flattered by his comment. What is it they say about karma?

He rolls his eyes, “Knew you’d say that.”

You smile softly and exhale a quiet laugh from your nose, rubbing your hands together to warm yourself up, “You seriously don’t think I’m better than you?”

“Well I don’t see you finding your own way home,” He shakes his head and sighs, shaking his jacket off, “Anyway, take this.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Just take it and shut up.”

He holds the leather jacket in front of you and you take it. Under any other circumstance—seriously, any—you wouldn’t have accepted his jacket even if it would kill you not to, but tonight is the exception. The only exception, you think to yourself.

You wear his jacket quickly, crossing your arms again to warm yourself up quicker. It’s too dark to make out where you are, so you stay close behind Eddie as he leads you wherever he’s decided to go now.

“Where are we going?”

He sighs, “Since you can’t get back into your own place and your friends left you to die, mine is the only other option.”

“Absolutely not.” Your reply is instant, and you stop walking to take off his jacket and hand it back to him. He stops shortly after, turning to face you.

“No?” He arches a brow at you, almost teasingly.

“I’ll just stay at Steve’s or Robin’s.” You murmur as you roughly throw his jacket back to him.

“Alright,” He nods his head, taking a step towards you to see your face better, “You know the way to either of their houses?”

You do.

“..From where we are?”

You don’t.

“Because I sure as hell don’t. And they don’t know the way to mine.” He stares at you pensively, waiting on a reply.

“Fuck my life,” You groan, walking ahead of him to avoid seeing the smug look on his face, “Fine. Let’s just go.”

“Don’t sound so happy about it, Y/N.” You can hear the smirk on his face from behind you.

•••

The next half hour is typical. You both throw nasty comments at each other but for the most part it’s okay—better than you would think it would be between the two of you, all things considered. About ten minutes into the walk he hands you his jacket back. He claims he gave it to you so that you’d shut up and stop complaining about how cold you are but, what he won’t tell you is that for whatever reason, he didn’t like the idea of you being cold.

And although you’ll never admit it to him out loud, you’re grateful that Eddie’s letting you stay the night at his place. It’s dark and cold—probably one of the coldest nights of the year—so you’re glad that you can at least sleep in a bed with a blanket to keep you warm.

Even if it is Eddie’s.

Eventually you both reach the door to his trailer. He turns to face you for a moment, as if to ask you if you’re sure about this. You nod at him and that’s all he needs—he opens the door and within a second you’re finally inside.

“Right so, this is me,” Eddie leads the way and walks you over to his room, “You can wear something from my closet if you’re desperate. There should be a spare toothbrush in the bathroom from when Wayne stayed the night and opened a pack of two.”

You nod and he leaves the room to give you a moment to yourself. Instead of using it to change or get ready for bed after the day you’ve had, you use it to snoop. You look around his room in hopes that you’ll find something embarrassing to make fun of him for.

You open his closet, silently thanking the gods that despite the fact that he’s always wearing the same clothes, he seems to own many more.

You grab one of his Hellfire shirts—which of course, he has plenty of—and you begin to strip. You take your clothes off, sucking in a huge breath of fresh air as soon as you’re in the clean shirt. It’s Eddie’s, but it’s nice.

“You okay in there?” You hear his voice from behind the door, and again, you can hear the smirk on his face.

“Fuck off, freak.”

He takes that as his answer, opening the door and walking in.

“Now, that’s no way to treat a—” Eddie stops midsentence as he walks through the door to find you standing there in nothing but his shirt. He isn’t wearing one himself. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants that sit low on his hips.

He arches his brow at the fact that you’re actually wearing his clothes, but he quickly looks back up at your face, not giving you any sort of satisfaction in knowing you’ve surprised him, “—wait, you’re the guest. I could literally kick you out any second,” He walks past you to get to the bathroom, pointing his finger in your face, “Watch your mouth, Hellfire Queen.”

You roll your eyes, choosing to stay quiet so he doesn’t actually kick you out. You don’t look at him as he passes you either, instead focusing on his record player that’s conveniently in front of you. It doesn’t last long and you end up turning your head back around to catch another glimpse of him.

You’re both as exposed as you’ve ever been in front of each other, and neither of you know how to act.

“Speaking of mouths, I’m gonna brush my teeth. Don’t mind me.” He gives you a fake, exaggerated smile as he steps into the bathroom.

You return the fake smile, “Be my guest.”

“Hilarious.” He replies flatly, making you laugh.

He stares at himself in the mirror, pretending to play the guitar with his toothbrush for a moment before he covers it in toothpaste and puts it in his mouth.

“Freak.” You call out to him and he smiles at you with a mouthful of toothpaste, nodding in agreeance.

“Mhmmmm.” He winks at you and turns back towards his mirror, brushing his teeth and swaying his hips to some imaginary beat he’s humming along to.

Your eyes wander to his torso. You don’t know why but while he’s in front of you—you might as well. He has a tattoo on his chest that you’ve never seen, you’ve never really looked closely enough to notice it until now. He also has faint scarring across the side of his hip—again, something you’ve never seen.

“You gonna keep staring at me, or?” His voice is muffled from the toothpaste in his mouth but you can still hear the smugness. You don’t answer him straightaway, thinking of a good way to word what you want to say to him.

You want to ask him about his hips. Knowing Eddie, he’d think scars like that are metal. So why are they some sort of secret? Why don’t you know about them? Why doesn’t anybody know about them?

“What are they from?” You ask, deciding to be direct as you nod your head towards his scarring.

He pauses for a moment as if he’s surpised by your question. As if nobody’s ever asked him that before. As if he never expected anyone to.

He spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth, running his wet hands over his face a few times afterwards. He takes a small towel and roughly rubs his face dry with it—nothing you wouldn’t expect from him. You wait patiently for him to reply to you as he starts to tie his hair back into a low bun.

“Bats.”

As soon as the answer leaves his lips, everything falls into place. Everything makes sense. Why he was experienced with the woods, why he noticed the bats before you did, why he got so scared by them even though he wasn’t scared by a single other thing you were both faced with on the way home—and there were many things and animals that were arguably more scary than a few bats.

Now it all made sense.

You don’t need to know any more, you know enough.

You both exchange a knowing glance at each other and you look away to try and focus on something else to ease the awkward tension that’s bound to build up any second now. Your eyes fixate on a box of condoms that Eddie has sitting on top of his bedside table. You scoff and reach for it.

“Looks like you get around.” You hold up the box of condoms, smirking at Eddie as he runs a hand over his dry face.

He smirks back at you, walking out of the bathroom and snatching the box from your hands, “What’s it to you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Whore.”

He narrows his eyes back at you, leaning close to your face, “You love it.”

Your eyes instinctively move down to his lips for a split—a split—second and he steps back once he realises how close you two actually are. Neither of you are going to mention it, but you both know that you were a little too close to each other just then. And you liked it? Wait, did you like—

“Normally I’d make you sleep on the couch but I can’t be bothered to hear whatever shit you have to say about it,” Eddie sighs, trying his best to act natural, “You can take the bed.”

You roll your eyes, “Always such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, fuck you too,” He snorts, “You better not be here when I wake up.”

“Believe me, the second the sun rises I’m out of here.” You let out a playful scoff and he smiles at you for a moment before walking out of the room to leave you on your own.

You almost want to take the opportunity to snoop in his room again and see if he has anything else you could tease him about, but instead of going through his things and putting that extra effort in, you quickly graze size the room up with your eyes. It’s full of things you’d expect. Nothing surprises you. A few porn magazines, some cds, a record player, an electric guitar which you just know he tires himself with everyday, some unrolled joints, a pack of scattered cigarettes, lighters, an ashtray, condoms, guitar picks.

Again—things you’d expect.

After quickly skimming over his room, you walk into the bathroom to freshen yourself up. Your eyes fall to Eddie’s toothbrush and you’re reminded of how he was dancing earlier as he brushed his teeth. Something so simple but..oddly nice? Anyway.

You brush your teeth, wash your face, and somehow you’re still thinking about Eddie and his stupid dancing.

You walk over to the side of his bed and lay down, ignoring your thoughts and sinking into the bed, smiling to yourself at how surprisingly comfortable it is. Fuck knows what Eddie’s gotten up to in this bed. Eh, ignorance is bliss.

You try and shake the thoughts from your head and lay back, pulling the covers over yourself and staring up at the ceiling.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s doing the same thing down the hall. Laid across the couch, unable to sleep, eyes glued to the same ceiling.

“Fuck it,” He whispers to himself and gets up from the couch, making his way over to where you are—in his bed. You hear his footsteps and quickly turn to your side, closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep so you don’t have to speak to him.

He stares at the closed bedroom door for a moment, debating if he should walk in. Why does he even want to? Why can’t he? It’s his room. But you’re in it. Why are you in it?

The door creaks open and you shut your eyes tighter even though he can’t see them.

You hear him let out a chuckle, “I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

You groan.

“And I know you’re an ass,” You argue back and turn your head to look at him, glaring, “Where do we go from here?”

He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face, “Wherever you’re willing to go.”

He walks over to where you are, leaning down to get something from his bedside table. A cigarette.

“D’you want one?”

You shake your head, “Do you have anything stronger?”

“Stronger? Like what?”

“I dunno,” You start but hesitate, glancing up at the ceiling for a moment as if it’s gonna help you, “Weed?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost looking impressed, “You smoke?”

“Wouldn’t mind trying it out.” You shrug.

“Yeah, that’s a hard pass,” He scoffs and places the cigarette between his lips, lighting it, “I’m not about to deal with whatever you become when you’re high for the first time.”

“Whatever I become? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” You frown, offended.

He inhales a puff from his cigarette, “Nothing,” His eyes are back on you, “It’s just—you’re already unbearable enough when you’re sober. I can’t imagine what you’d be like all greened out.”

His face looks as serious as ever. You know he’s only saying this to get a reaction out of you but fuck—he’s great at it.

“Take that back.” You defend yourself with furrowed eyebrows, shoving his chest.

He scoffs and shoves you back, “I’m not taking shit back.”

“Eddie,” You raise your eyebrows at him, showing him you’re serious, “Take that back.”

“Y/N,” He mimics you, not backing down, “I’m not taking it back.”

You scoff at him and he smirks, knowing that he’s pushing all the right buttons to get the reaction he wants out of you. You’re so mad at him—so beyond mad—and the way he looks isn’t helping. His perfectly messy hair, his dimples, his tattoos, his smirk..

He’s just such a—

“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You scold him, mad that he’s enjoying this so much more than you are.

He puts his cigarette out on the ashtray by his bedside table, smirking and leaning towards your face to taunt you, “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

That’s it.

That’s all it takes for you to completely snap. You’re sick of Eddie always having something to say to you. You’re sick of the fact that he’s so unbothered by you. You’re sick of the fact that he’s exactly like you.

You push his chest and his back hits the headboard. He lets out a low scoff, still smirking.

“Once. Just once I want you to shut up and not say anything back to me. Just fucking once I want you to—"

“Stop, Y/N.” He tenses his jaw, starting to get worked up too. But you’ve started it now, and you won’t stop just because he’s asking you to.

“No!” You scoff, raising your voice and standing up from the bed. Eddie stands up with you, jaw set tightly as you keep yelling at him, “I’m sick of it!”

“Y/N, sweetheart—” He starts out, walking towards you and reaching for your arm lightly. That only angers you more.

You pull your arm away from him, “Don’t sweetheart me! I’m so sick of you always—"

For once, you know exactly what to say. You know exactly what you want to scream at Eddie. You want to tell him how annoying he is, how smug he is, how much you hate his bratty personality and how much you just want him to kiss you.

Somehow, he beats you to it. In the midst of your rambling, he’s moving himself onto you. His hands cup your face, guiding your mouth to his in a rough, needy, overdue kiss.

You kiss him back for a moment—you tell yourself it’s a reflex but it’s not—before coming to your senses, pushing him off of you and slapping him across the face.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You yell out to him and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes widened at the fact that he did that..and at the fact that you enjoyed it. Details.

“Did you just—did you just hit me?” He holds his hand to his cheek, frowning at you.

“Did you just kiss me?”

His face softens. He swallows, staying silent.

Eddie kissed you. You slapped him. Neither of you can decide which is worse.

“I..” He sighs, trying to think of an excuse and opting to pin the blame on you, “You kissed me back.”

You scoff, denying it, “Did not.”

“You didn’t?” He arches a brow, as if to challenge you.

You nod as he takes a step towards you, closing the gap between the two of you. You fidget under his gaze, which is odd. First time for everything though, right..?

His eyes are low and his lets his tongue lightly graze over his bottom lip, looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. In a way he’s never looked at anyone before.

“No,” Your voice fades out as he leans down towards your face, “I didn’t..”

You both stare at each others lips, knowing what’s about to happen. The only question is, who’s going to be the first to crack?

“Eddie..” Your voice comes out as a whisper, your eyes still on his lips. He shushes you softly and the feeling of his lips hovering over yours sends you over the edge. You bite on the side of your bottom lip, almost whining at how desperate you are to feel him against you again.

“Fuck it,” He whispers, leaning down that little bit more and reconnecting your lips for a second kiss that you’re quick to reciprocate. Your hand pulls his face down to yours by his neck, deepening the kiss as he lets out a moan against you. You smirk and pull away for a moment, looking up at his hooded eyes.

“You did that time,” He whispers, “You kissed me back that time.”

“Shut up,” You lean forward, kissing him a third time. His lips are on yours again, moving desperately against you. His tongue is hot against yours, his teeth lightly biting down on your bottom lip.

It’s clear in this moment that you’ve both wanted this for a while—much longer than either of you will ever admit.

“What happens here stays here, right?” He murmurs against your lips.

You nod, “What happens here stays here, yeah.”

His hands spread out across your back, finally resting on your hips where he digs his fingers into your skin. You hum in satisfaction and tug on his hair. Your kiss is fast and needy, you’ve both wanted this for so long. Too long.

As fast as you’re kissing each other, you’re still both making sure to savour the moment. Making sure to savour how each of you feel, how you taste. Neither of you want to forget how this feels. You’ve both craved each other for so long and now you finally have each other right where you want.

You start to slowly move your hands from Eddie’s neck, moving them down to his chest. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours for a moment. Your breathing is shallow as you watch him step back, reaching for the hem of his sweatpants.

“No,” You step forward and grab his hand, stopping him, “Let me.”

He moves his hand away and nods his head slowly, his lips parted in anticipation as you reach for his sweatpants and slowly pull them down. His eyes close and he lets out a breath of relief. Your mouth waters at the sight in front of you. He’s hard—so painfully hard.

You’re about to drop to your knees when Eddie grabs a hold of your throat, making you gasp.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” He murmurs, “Ladies first, remember?”

You look up at him with lust and he steps forward, pushing you back onto the bed with his hand still wrapped firmly around your neck. You let yourself fall back against the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as Eddie crawls on top of you and begins trailing kisses down your neck.

He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you take the hint, sitting up for a moment so he can pull it over your head. He unclasps your bra easily, and your breath hitches at the feeling of the cold air against your skin.

“Fuck, Eddie,” You moan out his name and he groans. His fingers brush against your nipples, making you suck in a sharp breath. The simplest touches from him drive you crazy.

“Poor baby,” He taunts you with a smirk, “So worked up and I haven’t even started yet.”

You try to contain your next moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing it, but you can’t. He feels so good.

“Want me to taste you?” Eddie’s voice is low in your ear, “Hm?”

You let out a quiet whine.

“Want me to let you ride my face with that pretty pussy?” He taunts, wanting you to speak.

“Fuck, E,” Your voice comes out as a whisper. You can’t form a thought, let alone speak one into existence.

“Answer me,” He prods, smirking against the skin on your neck, “Now.”

You look at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he’ll accept that as your answer. He smirks, unsatisfied, clicking his tongue.

You gasp as he digs his teeth into your neck, closing your eyes at how good it feels, “Yes.”

“Properly.” His teeth are rough on the side of your neck, where he sucks harshly on your skin.

“Eddie—fuck—” You choke out a reply and he chuckles, moving his lips from your neck.

He trails his hands down your chest, past your stomach and rests them on your thighs. He’s so close to where you want him, but not close enough. He knows it, you know it. He’s torturing you.

“Take it off,” He breathes out, running his hand along your thighs to tug on your skirt.

You lean back, opening your legs, “Take it off yourself.”

You don’t have to say it again. He smirks, reaching for the zipper and pulling it down, sliding your skirt off you. His breathing is heavy and eager.

“Tell me what you want,” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “Say it.”

Your breathing slows, your eyes down on his pretty face as he looks back up at you.

“Want your mouth on me, E,” You whisper, groaning when you see him arch an eyebrow at you, “Please.”

You’re desperate. Desperate for something. Anything.

“Good girl,” He looks into your eyes while he kisses down your body, moving his mouth down lower and lower, “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You feel his hands across your thighs, his eyes still burning into yours asking for permission to keep going. You bite your lip impatiently and nod, holding yourself up on your elbow, using your other arm to reach over and push his head down lower toward where you want him. He gladly moves his head down, pressing a kiss to you over your panties. Your breathing staggers and you know you’re going to struggle to keep a hold of yourself.

Eddie’s eyes don’t leave your body as he quickly pulls your panties down, throwing them to the side and hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. He smirks at the scene in front of him. You’re on display for him. He’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Give me something, freak.” Your words come out as a pained whisper, which only makes Eddie laugh. God—you hate him.

“All this for me?” His voice is low, his mouth hovering over your centre.

You huff, grinding your crotch up in the air for some friction, “Hate you.”

He smirks at you, knowing that that’s far from the truth, “You too, baby. Even when you’re getting on my fucking nerves though,” He leans forward, kissing your clit, “You’re still so pretty,�� He licks a stripe up your centre, “So fucking pretty.”

Your mouth falls open and a silent moan leaves your lips, your eyes closing at the feeling of his warm tongue moving against you. He dips his tongue between your folds, licking up to your clit and all the way back down again. You’re sure you won’t make it, you won’t last long when he’s doing this. You can feel your stomach curling already.

He closes his lips around your clit, moving his tongue against your skin and slipping his middle finger into you.

“E—Eddie—” His name sounds like music coming from your mouth, “Your rings—” You’re cut off by your own moan as he starts to move his finger inside of you. You struggle to keep your eyes open, looking down at him to see him smirking up at you. He doesn’t care. He’s going to keep them on while he’s inside you.

His hand stays gripped on your thigh, his tongue matching the movements of his finger as he adds a second one in.

A whimper slips from your mouth, “Fuck.” You’re a mess. He’s a mess. You love it. He loves it.

“Taste so good, Y/N.” He whispers, smirking and moving his mouth faster to taste more of you.

“Please, Eddie,” You throw your head back, closing your eyes, “Don’t stop.”

He moans against you and your eyes open at the feeling, your mouth dropping at how good he’s making you feel.

“Name sounds so good when you say it,” His movements quicken, “Especially like that.”

“Mm, Eddie..”

A few minutes of Eddie’s fingers and mouth working on you, mixed with praise—“You look so pretty, baby”, “Taste so good”, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”—and you’re crying out as your orgasm takes you.

Eddie makes sure not to leave an inch of your skin untouched, letting you ride your high out on his face. He leaves his tongue laid out flat against you and smiles as you mindlessly grind onto him until you physically can’t anymore.

“So fucking good for me,” He murmurs more praise as he climbs on top of you and hovers his mouth over yours, “Think you can be better?”

You nod and he holds his fingers up to his mouth, sucking himself clean as he stares into your eyes. You bite your lip, watching him as he moans around his fingers, still holding the eye contact. When he’s done, you bring your lips to his, grazing your tongue over his and tasting yourself.

You run your fingers through his hair, tugging at it to make him move his head back. He lets out a quiet groan and looks at you with hooded eyes. You begin to move your hands down his body as he moans into your mouth. Now it’s his turn to feel good.

He stops kissing you back for a moment, in awe at how a simple touch is making him feel. You look up into his eyes and he looks down into yours, holding the eye contact as you slowly move your hands further down his body.

“Open, sweetheart.” His voice is low as he lightly tugs your bottom lip down with his fingers, eyes locked on yours. You relax your mouth and let him open it for you. He leans down and a string of saliva slowly falls from his mouth into yours.

You’ve never experienced something like that before. Something so simple has you wetter and more worked up than you’ve ever been.

You lightly push him down by his shoulders, making the two of you switch places so that you’re straddling his lap. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he leans his head back against the headboard, his breathing rugged as you begin to touch him through his boxers.

You place a kiss to the side of his neck before slowly making your way down, kissing past his chest and his stomach. You stop by his hip, where his scars are. His battle scars.

Looking up at him for a moment, you gauge his reaction. His eyebrows are furrowed—he’s confused. He’s not sure what you’re thinking or what you’re about to do. But he’s comfortable.

You give him a soft smile before looking back at his hip and leaning your mouth down to kiss across it. He sucks in a breath and you smile against his skin, feeling how much he’s loving the surprise act of intimacy. He reaches one of his hands down and intertwines it with yours, raising your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

You pull away from his hip and straddle his lap, leaning your body over his and moving your lips against his. You let your fingers push at the band of his boxers. He moans into your mouth.

You take your chance and dip your hand into his boxers, grabbing his cock and slowly stroking it. Eddie moans and tries to move his hips with the pace of your hand, struggling to kiss you back. You move your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses down to his neck and shifting until your face is level with his crotch. You look up at him and smirk, pulling his boxers down and freeing his cock from them. Fucking hell.

You look up at him, impressed. He scoffs at your reaction, “Don’t look so surprised.”

You giggle and reach down, slowly stroking his length and planting a soft kiss to his tip before lubing it up with your saliva. He sighs at the feeling, leaning into your touch as you continue to run your hands along his body.

It takes you a second to wrap your mouth around him properly, taking him in as far as he’ll go. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat with every thrust of your head as you swirl your tongue around him, feeling as much of him as you can. You keep your eyes glued to him, loving the reactions he’s giving you.

His moans are criminal.

You squeeze your thighs together at the way his mouth hangs open, his eyes closing at how good you feel around him.

“That’s it,” He nods at you, out of breath, “Good girl.” His fingers grip into the back of your hair as he brings you down further.

You’re not struggling as much as you expected to. After all, you want him. So fucking bad—and you’re about to make him feel it.

“Thaaaat’s it. Yeah, fuck.” He speaks through gritted teeth, fucking into your mouth and letting out a string of loud moans. Your breathing is laboured, but you’re enjoying yourself, feeling like you could do this forever.

With a few more thrusts of his hips, he’s pushed over the edge. He tastes better than you imagined.

You lick your lips and lean forward, kissing his neck as he comes down from his high.

“You ready to take all of me, baby?” He asks you, his breathing erratic.

You answer him with a kiss to his lips, slow and sensual. He smiles against you and keeps a hold of your waist, savouring you.

“Wanted this for so long.”

There it is. You’ve wanted to hear it from him for as long as you can remember and there. It. Is.

You smile at his admission, making your own, “Wanted this for longer.”

“You gonna give it to me?” Eddie pulls back for a moment, looking up into your eyes and biting his lip.

His voice. The desperation in it. The things he’s saying. The way he’s moving against you. He needs you just as much as you need him. More, even.

You decide to answer him with actions rather than words, reaching between the two of you and wrapping your fingers around him. You give him a few slow pumps, his mouth opening at the feeling. You make sure to keep your eyes on his, lifting yourself up and slowly lining his tip along your entrance. You hit your clit on accident, moaning at the feeling. Eddie’s head falls back and his jaw tenses, his nostrils flaring slightly. You’re killing him. You like it.

After teasing him a few more times, you finally position yourself on top of him and slowly sink yourself down, wrapping yourself around him. You make sure to savour the feeling—you’ve never felt anything like it. He’s spreading you open. He’s filling you up. He’s so deep.

He feels so fucking good.

You feel so fucking good.

You let out a gasp, gripping his shoulder as you move down until he’s completely inside you. You let yourself stay where you are for a moment, your eyes still on Eddie’s. His face already looks fucked out. He looks like he’s in pure bliss. You moan as you lift yourself up before sinking back down onto him. His hands guide your hips over him and you both gasp at the contact, starting to form a rhythm.

“So—fuck—” You gasp as your head falls to his shoulder, his hips bucking up into yours to feel you deeper, “So fucking big.”

He grins into your shoulder, rolling his hips forward and moaning at the feeling of you stretching around him, “So fucking wet.”

You set a slow pace, wanting to feel like this forever. Neither of you want to hurry this up yet, you want to feel every inch of each other for as long as possible. His fingers dig into your sides, your fingers tangling in his hair as you start to pick up the pace.

“Yeah baby,” His voice is breathless, staggered, encouraging you, “So fucking good for me. That’s it.”

His hand comes up to your face, where he cups your cheeks and pulls you towards him quickly. The kiss is harsh, taking whatever the two of you are willing to give each other. Right now—that’s just about everything.

“E,” You sigh, tipping your head back down onto his shoulder as you continue to ride him. He holds his arms around you, moving his hips up into yours and holding you close. The position you’re in is strangely intimate but neither of you are against it. You’re both at peace.

“Kiss me,” He begs.

You do.

You both grind your hips at the perfect rhythm, your pants and moans filling the room.

He’s close. You can tell by the way his stomach is tensing. By the way his breathing is hitching. By the way his eyes are closing. By the way his eyebrows are furrowed. By the way his mouth is hanging open.

He’s close, and so are you.

“Cum inside me, E.” you whisper.

“Fucking Christ,” He groans and bites down on your shoulder, “You gonna cum too? Gonna make a mess of my cock?”

You whine out, nodding your head rapidly as you feel him speeding up his thrusts. His mouth is right back on yours, his hands travelling down your body and resting on your hips tightly as he fucks up into you with no remorse.

The two of you cum together, making an even bigger mess of each other than you’d thought you would.

You collapse against Eddie’s chest, trying to catch your breath when he flips your bodies over so he’s on top of you. He’s still inside you, and the sudden movement makes your aching cunt throb.

“My turn.” He smirks, leaning back down to reconnect your lips.

You whimper against his lips, and he smirks, speeding up his movements and beginning to thrust into you again. You don’t know how he’s able to go for another round so soon but you’re not complaining. You wouldn’t dream of it.

“You gonna take all of me, Y/N?” He asks as he thrusts into you, hands resting on either side of you. All you can do at this point is nod, your eyes heavy as you feel yourself getting dizzy with pleasure.

“Look at me.” His voice is stern, it makes you whine. You look up at him as well as you can, feeling your stomach curl.

You reach your hands to your sides, intertwining your fingers with his as he continues to thrust into you hard and fast, only slowing down when he nears his climax and you near yours.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Gonna cum with me? Yeah?” Eddie’s fucked out voice is all you need to be pushed over the edge for a third time, and your eyes roll back at the feeling of him letting go with you. Filling you up even more.

He plants a sweet kiss to your lips when you’re both done, letting you rest for a few minutes before he helps you up from the bed.

You both head into the bathroom to have a quick shower before you sleep. It’s safe to say that you’ve both seen a side to each other that you never expected to see. A side that you actually like.

With a few more exchanged kisses and a few cheeky touches, you’re both out of the shower and drying yourselves off. Eddie offers you your own towel but you settle for his. It’s not like he wasn’t cumming inside you a few minutes ago.

As you’re both about to walk back into his bedroom, you hear the sound of the trailer door opening.

“Eddie?!” Wayne’s voice shoots through the trailer, “Eddie, where are you boy?”

Your eyes widen and you look at Eddie, who has the same expression on his face.

Shit.

He quickly grabs you and pulls you back into the shower, turning the water back on and closing the door.

“I’m—I’m in the uh—in the shower, Wayne!”

You gasp at the feeling of the cold water on you—it normally takes a few seconds to heat up—so Eddie quite literally takes matters into his own hands and covers your mouth.

You narrow your eyes at him and he mouths a quick “Sorry” to you, keeping his hand over your mouth.

“Oh, right. Okay,” You hear Wayne’s voice again, “Came to let you know your lights are still on but, I guess you already know that,” His footsteps grow more distant, “Turn ‘em off, boy. Some of us gotta sleep.”

“You got it,” Eddie calls out, “I’ll be out in a sec.” “Yeah yeah, goodnight.”

The sound of the front door closing, followed by the sound of it being locked echo into the bathroom. Eddie moves his hand away from your mouth and is quick to lean down, reconnecting your lips in a quick kiss.

“That was close.” You murmur against his lips, chuckling.

He nods, stepping out of the shower and scratching the back of his head, “Yeah, too close.”

You both walk back into Eddie’s bedroom, as naked as ever as he grabs the clothes you were both wearing before. He quickly flicks the living room light off and hands you back his Hellfire shirt, and he pulls on the black sweatpants from earlier, not bothering to wear any boxers.

The tension in the room is thick. You both just fucked the life out of each other. Your legs are sore, your throat hurts from how loudly you were moaning, your heads a mess. Eddie isn’t feeling much better.

“Let’s never do this again.” You clear your throat, throwing his shirt over your head.

“Agreed, yeah,” Eddie is quick to nod, “Never.”

You both look at each other for about two seconds before grabbing each other's faces and kissing, rushing to take your clothes off again.

so..guess who’s back. i went on a trip w some friends n had the beeeesssttt time evaaa, which is why i was ia for so long. but not to worry, the bitch is back. i hope you enjoyed this shot. i hope you loved it. ik i loved writing it. normally i’d split this into 2 parts but bc it’s been so long i decided to treat y’all. lmk what you think.

i’ll get back to posting regular smut soon. this was mainly focused on the angst aspect. i’ve been so into slow burn angst lately—in case you couldn’t tell lmao. anyway, have a good day or night n enjoy my slutfest <3 see you soon.

- k

🏷️ @eddiethesexy @roselvseddie @capricornrisingsstuff @aree-you-sirius-rn @lightmelikeamatch @corrodcd @cinnnam0ngirl @frogers

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neonovember · 10 months

Text

Golden Boy

part two to this request

warnings: suggestive content, miscommunication, angst if you are a tortured poet, highschool love, protective!carmen, touch depirved!carmen, mention of death

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: okay, okay, yes i know i said this would be a two part series, but god i have too much to say and it didn’t feel right to cram it into two parts. Also i wanted to add a little smut snippet and of course that required its own chapter??

The ring of the Beef doors resound through the murmur of the kitchen, the lunch time rush had dissolved to a quiet pull, regulars coming in for their pick up orders and the occasional customer seated in one of the back booths.

The soothing quiet the crew had been relishing just moments ago is interrupted by the familiar boom of Richie’s voice and the loud bang of the cartons of produce he’d left on the counter.

“Guess who the fuck I ran into down at the Market” Richie yells, beaming with the kind of smile you’d only have with the worlds biggest secret on your tongue.

The crew gathers at the kitchen station, hands rubbing tired eyes as the work day slugged on.

“What, Richie?” Sydney humours him, throwing the last of the chopped vegetables into a pot to slow cook, wiping her hand on her shoulder towel as she looks up at Richie.

“Our very own Bug” Richie replies, eyes glinting as they watch the white linen shirt of Carmen’s back stop suddenly.

Carmen pauses, the sound of his knife falling with a clank. It takes a moment for him to turn around and face Richie, partly because he doesn’t want to meet the goofy pull of his features that told him he was playing around and partly because he doesn't want to face that what Richie said might be true.

But he faces him anyway, because he always will for you.

“What? You saw a bug? Really Richie, you had to come all this way--” Sydney groans out, pressing a finger between her eyebrows, smoothing out the skin that has begun to wrinkle there.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot you guys don’t know her”

“Her? You got a little lady you've been keeping from us Richie?” Tina replies playfully, swatting a towel towards Richie who barely dodges it.

Carmen coughs abruptly at Tina’s comment, in which Richie bites back a grin, before raising an arm up in surrender.

“She’s an old friend of the family, Carmen and her used to be real close in High school. Come to think of it, she was your only friend actually, and was way out of your league” Richie says with a condescending tone, there is a look of thoughtfulness on Richie's face like he's actually thinking about Carmen’s high school experiencing and remembering the clear lack of friends he's had beside you.

The sound of cat calls and oooh’s resounds throughout the kitchen, the crew coddling this small but rare piece of information about Carmen’s past. Carmen wasn’t exactly conversational, whilst he regarded the crew as his flesh and blood that didn’t stop him from keeping a lot of himself and his past hidden. There was always the air of mystery that followed Carmen Berzatto, and it seemed the persona was about to deteriorate as a look of anger flashes across Carmen's face.

“Oh fuck you Cousin, She never even liked you” Carmen replies defensively, before the realisation that you were in town hits him full force.

“How did we not know this, I mean no offence Carm, but you didn’t seem like the type to be..open to friends” Sydney voices, the look of shock not hidden from her voice

“It was different with her, right? I didn't have to- she was- it was just different” Carmen mumbles, the visions of you seem to take over Carmen's mind, like visors, all he can see now is you. The curve of your neck, the smell of Lavender and shea butter from your mothers garden and your lotion. Carmen can almost taste it again, and its reminder has him craving you in a way that was all too dangerous for a man like him.

Especially since you were back in town, maybe not even a block away from him, holy fuck, you were back in town.

“Wait, uh, she’s in town?” Carmen replies, sheepishly, scratching his neck in nervousness that didn't go unnoticed by the crew.

Carmen? Nervous? About a girl? Oh this was good.

“She came down for work, designing a whole piece of Madison Avenue. Think she’s staying for a little while” Richie replies “You should ask her when she comes tomorrow, you guys still talk..right?’

“Yeah uh, ‘course” Carmen mumbles, a feeling of grief washes over him like a wave, and without blinking, without a shudder of a breath you consume him again.

The New York winter was brutal, nothing like the December’s in Chicago, and the thought causes a grumble of cold air to leave Carmen’s mouth. Carmen couldn't help comparing everything in New York to the city he ran from, it was a habit akin to a shadow he couldn’t shake off.

Swarms of yellow cabbed taxis and car’s move through the city streets painfully slow, splashing waves of dirty street snow onto the frosted sidewalk. The rush of strangers wrapped in a decade of layers, the protective wool and fleece wrapping their hands and necks, make their way back to their apartment and homes, eager to feel the warmth of fireplaces and heaters and escape the ice cold snap of the unforgiving winds and falling snow.

Carmen should be making his way home, in fact if he hadn’t stopped abruptly at the scene in front of the open pane window of a shop, he'd had felt the warmth of his century old apartment heater by now. Walking back would be the right thing to do, it would be the sensible thing, but Carmen wasn’t known for his sensibility and recklessness was all he knew. Especially when it comes to you, always when it comes to you.

So Carmen has found himself, stood stationary, looking rather strange in the middle of the street as city goers grumble and step around him, looking into the dimly lit art studio cramped between a Chinese takeout shop and a fabric store.

There you were, crouched in a chair, scribbling on a canvas across a wide workbench, papers and pens scattered messily in front of you. You haven't changed one bit, and maybe it had felt like centuries ago for Carmen when in fact it had only been a couple years but it was as if someone had taken a picture of his memories of you and placed it in front of him.

You were so beautiful, it stole Carmen's breath away, it skipped the rhythmic beat of his heart and caused it to hammer against his chest in that nervous way you’ve always made him feel. Even surrounded by papers and stained coffee mugs and the drag of stress and sleep deprivation weighing on your sunken shoulders you are the most beautiful thing Carmen has ever, and will ever see.

Were you real? Carmen’s feet are stone, like if he steps through the doors, if he moves even an inch you'll slip between his fingers and disappear from his vision again. He has to see you, he has to apologise and tell you everything that has happened, he has to feel your head resting against his shoulder, he needs to fall back into the gentle rhythm you both shared before it was lost to time again.

But before Carmen can move from his spot on the sidewalk, before he can even catch your gaze, he watches, in horror, as a tall haired man walks over, dressed in a brown knitted sweater and slacks that looked simple in the expensive way, and wraps his arms around you before behind.

His heart shatters completely, and he can't stop himself from watching on, you throw your head back with a laugh, hugging him back with a grin as he whispers into the nook of your neck and it's the twist of the knife in his stomach, tearing the entirety of its contents onto the sidewalk, staining the frosted pavement crimson with his innards.

And it was like Carmen was 15 again. Seeing one of his classmates ask you to prom before he could even utter those words, watching the way you danced effortlessly in his hands beneath the gleam of the disco ball above. Your date had two left feet, and Carmen wanted to rip him off of you and replace his skittish dance moves. Carmen wanted to give you what you deserved instead of a football jock who couldn’t make you laugh.

That same childlike feeling of anger and jealousy spreads through him, that was sood replaced with anguish. He had lost you, he had waited too goddamn long and had lost you. What the fuck was he doing? How did he think he could just walk through those doors and stumble into your life again, and somehow fall back into the same familiarity of your friendship like nothing had changed?

Carmen had done stupid things before, but Carmen had felt utterly foolish then. You were mystifying, of course you would be in a relationship, there were probably hundreds of men that threw themselves at you, and it wasn't like you were waiting for him.

The memory of saying goodbye to you was still fresh, he could remember the time when you turned your back to him, and the same way the sun shone through the hallways windows when you turned your neck to meet his gaze for the final time.

He could remember what he had for breakfast, cereal with not enough milk and an apple, he could remember how he had two different pairs of socks on, one itching him throughout the day, he could remember the feeling of the ingrained drawings of your Geography teacher’s sketchbook, he could remember the way you looked at him when he told you to promise him not to say goodbye.

He remembered it all like it was the day he died.

That day had been marked into his body and mind, into his subconscious until it was all that consumed him. Wherever he was, he looked for you, he searched and yearned for you in crowds and lines for coffee, in the driver's seat of cars next to him stood stationary at the traffic lights.

Everytime he closed his eyes all he could see was the way you looked at him like you didn't believe him and it broke something, because it had been true. Carmen had promised to see you again, and he lied, and that late New York evening, it was like Carmen had died a second time.

And just like at 17, Carmen makes peace with watching you on the sidelines, bottling up any feelings he had for you in fear it would ruin everything you both shared. You were his greatest friend, and he couldn't allow himself to be selfish, not when you were you, and he was him. He didn't deserve you, and it didn't matter how hard he yearned for you because you were too good for him.

And it’s that thought that causes him to step away from his spot on the sidewalk, the imprint of his boots marking a spot on the concrete where the fallen snow hadn't touched yet, before it’s soon covered in the white flesh of frost, hiding that he was ever there.

From that moment on, Carmen watches you from afar, the unyielding desire to ensure you were safe at all times consuming him until his protective gaze fell over you like a blanket. He had kept up with your moves, silently cheering you on with each award and recognition you received throughout the years, whilst he himself began to climb the culinary ladder, or knife. He had never let his eyes waver, and then Mickey died and he came running back to Chicago with his things and a broken heart.

“Yeah, you all will meet her tomorrow at the dinner” Richies words cause Carmen to shake himself from his vision, what did he just say?

“You, You did what?” Carmen questions, unable to keep the shrill from his voice as the crew look towards him in confusion.

“Yeah I invited her, it’ll be like a catch up for the fam, she could see all the work I’ve done and see how you haven't changed-”

“Fuck Cousin, you- you should’ve told me before, now i got to make sure everyone has something to eat, and- and i got to add a a second chair” Carmen begins to mumble out, running a hand through his curls stressfully as he began to pace around the kitchen.

“Hey, Carmen relax, we've got room for one more person” Richie chuckles

“Wow, Jeff, just the sound of this girl’s name has got you shitting bricks. I think someones in loveeee” Tina singsongs with a grin, but there was something soft behind her eyes, in fact everyone in the kitchen smiled with a hint of happiness at Carmen's behaviour.

They had thought their Chef was closed off to love, and having felt its strength, each of them in their own ways tried to get Carmen out there, whether it be blind dates or meet cute’s, but it never worked out, and Carmen had always kept that part of life secret from even Richie and Sugar.

It seemed now, that you had been the mysterious woman that had stolen Carmen's heart, and they were giddy with excitement to finally meet the person who had gotten Carmen Berzatto scared shit less.

“Hey Cousin, why don’t you help me unload the rest of the cartons from the truck?” Richie replies, a subtle way of getting Carmen out of the kitchen and into a space that had fewer faces watching his every move.

“Yeah, uh okay” Carmen replies, following Richie to the back of the Bear, resting his back against the brick wall of the alleyway.

There is a silence that stretches between Richie and Carmen at that moment that Richie would usually fill with slanted jokes or rambles. But even Richie knew you were a sensitive topic for Carmen, and he waited patiently for him to approach the topic on both of your minds.

“So, we haven’t spoken in nearly 8 years and she's coming tomorrow to my restaurant” Carmen replies, and Richie nods along.

Carmen shakes his head scoffing, looking up at Richie with a look of fear and embarrassment and elated happiness all in one.

“I don’t know what i’m gonna do Cousin, I- I don’t know what to do with myself with her, fuck what if ruin everything?”

“Hey, hey easy, I was poking fun at you before but you and her, that was something else entirely that the rest of the Family would never come close to understanding. When you were together, it was like, it was like I could see the anxiety and stress physically leave you, you fucking laughed with her Carm, when you weren’t in the mood to even smile, even after everything you’d see her and it was like nothing else mattered, like no one else mattered.

I mean, the whole family was betting on you both running off and getting eloped, you were both in your own bubble, and did not give a shit about anybody else.” Richie chuckles, resting a hand on Carm’s shoulder to stop him from pacing.

Carmen looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows, pressing his canines into his lips

“What if she doesn't want to speak to me?, Ya know, what if she came for- for you and Sugar and-and she doesn't even want to see me” Carmen rambles, fear taking over any sense

“Are you kidding Carmen? You both hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade and she still said yes to coming to the fucking Beef of all places on a Friday. She wants to see you, Carm, you've just been too stupid to see it, you've always been.” Richie replies, shaking Carmen like he was trying to shake the sense into him.

“You know what you have to do now, right?” Richie says, when you've both rested on one of the stools, lighting a cigarette for warmth against the bite of the cold.

“I’ve got to make tomorrow fucking perfect, thats what I’ve got to do. Which is almost impossible for this goddamn place” Carmen groans out, taking a drag from the wrapped tobacco stick.

Richie lets out a laugh, rubbing his stomach as he leans against the brick layered wall.

“Don’t know about that, they just might for her” Richie replies, before getting off of the stool, dusting his jeans and walking towards the pick up truck.

“Where are you going?” Carmen calls out

“You thought I was kidding about these boxes? Chop chop cousin, we gotta get them in before it fucking rains” Richie yells back, letting out a laugh at Carmens loud groan.

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