#also smut later
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frosting of my cake
DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader
Word count: 1.2k
Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press
Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you.
[Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].
event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi
"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."
He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.
"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."
But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.
"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.
Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.
"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."
"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.
The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.
"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.
And so you get to work.
You should've seen it in highsight–
Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.
–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.
It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.
And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..
"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."
Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.
"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."
Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.
His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.
The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.
"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"
A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.
Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.
"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.
It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.
His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.
"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–
The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.
–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.
(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)
Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.
"I think we need more."
Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.
With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"
He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.
You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"
Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."
You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."
"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."
#GojoNSFWweek2023#i realised halfway through that im not a breeding fan#thats why its so short#and also because i forgot half of what i wanted to write#i might try an extended version later if anyone wants#moni writes#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo smut#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#smut#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk smut#satoru smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk fic#anime x reader#anime smut#gojo satoru
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ive head this nagging thought in the back of my head that satoru has some kinda random spot on his body that’ll make him instantly pop a bone. I DONT KNOW JUST WORK WITH ME HERE PLS 🙏 i love your works btw 😘
✧ sweet spot, ft. satoru gojo
✧ tags: mostly fluff, whiny satoru, ‘baby’ as a nickname, did i say mostly fluff already??, dry humping, overstim, loser satoru cs he’s mushy and in love
✧ an: this idea is now living in my head and not paying rent, thanks a lot anon :/
satoru usually just does his own hair care, and he’s very meticulous about it. he wants everything to be clean and pristine—not that you weren’t capable of doing that for him, he’s just very, very dramatic. he didn’t even know this spot was sensitive until… literally now.
he’s standing in the bathroom as you brush your teeth, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his growing undercut. he figured it was time for him to cut it anyway, but his arms were very sore from some training he’d done with the kids yesterday.
“babe.”
“y’esh?” he chuckled at your mouthful of the minty paste, and just waited for you to finish brushing. when you finally did, you turned to face him as he brushed his thumb over the white pooling on the corner of your mouth.
“can you cut my hair today? ‘arms are so sore.” satoru whined, his finger still tracing your lip lazily.
“have you washed it? i don’t need your lice transferring to me—ouch! okay, okay, plug in the clippers!” you giggled as he pinched your lip. the clippers rested on his side of the sink, and he plugged them in wordlessly. you stood behind him, lightly brushing the area with the small brush you know is the most comfortable for him. satoru sighs lightly as you do this, and his shoulders relax.
he didn’t know exactly what it was, but your hands felt different than his. you made him so sensitive usually anyway, but this was weird. his cheeks were heating, and everything was tingling, not just his neck.
and then you did it.
the clippers worked in upward strokes as you trimmed the hair down, and suddenly your thumb brushed over some magical pressure point of his. satoru felt pleasure shoot down his spine like he never had before, and a almost girly squeak slipped out before he could stop it. your eyes go wide and you remove the clippers from his neck. satoru is deathly still, and you watched color bloom over his cheeks in the mirror.
“…you okay sato’?” the nickname drips off your tongue like honey—so effortless, so intimate, and he hates that you decided to use it right now. he can’t take it. you’ve never called him that, and he can hear the amused tilt in your voice.
satoru gulps, because he doesn’t know what to say. how does he say that he wants you to keep going, to keep brushing over that exact spot so he can pinpoint exactly what that feeling was just now? he’s never felt anything like that when he cut his own hair…
he settles on a weak little “i’m fine, baby,” because frankly? he doesn’t trust himself to say any other words right now.
you give him a little smile in the mirror before your hands start working again, and you finally start getting somewhere with actually cutting his damn hair. he doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary happen anymore, and now he’s finally cleanly shaven again like he likes. you did an exceptional job, and satoru peppers you with kisses as a reward.
he mostly stops thinking about it after this.
yeah, maybe the thought lingers in the back of his head for a few hours after, and maybe he stands in the bathroom rubbing his thumb over the back of his neck for a little longer than considered normal, but it was fine.
except for when you call him down to finish watching the movie you’d started earlier, and he’s laying on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. satoru isn’t even paying attention to what your hand is doing as he yaps about the plot of the film, and you listen.
“he’s a piece of shit! i mean, he stayed with his side piece on the plane, and made his wife drive in the snow? fuck mike ‘till it’s backwards.” satoru spits, his attention fully focused on the movie’s plot.
unlike you, who’s mind was still in the bathroom, cutting satoru’s hair.
you haven’t stopped thinking about the little noise he’d made as you’d accidentally pressed your finger over the nape of his neck, right where the hair started. he sounded so weak—so vulnerable, and you decided right then that you needed to hear much more of that.
your mind was now solely focused on one thing, and your hand was moving just as it was in the bathroom. you twirled your fingers around strands, until finally threading your fingers through his hair and giving a small tug. this tore a stuttered breath out of satoru, and you smiled. he’d gone a little more rigid against you, and his commentary had stopped as you payed so much attention to him. he was losing focus of the movie, too.
“b-babe,”
“hmm?” you hummed back, fingers now traveling from his hair to his lower neck, tracing small circles there. you knew what you were looking for, but why not tease a little first?
satoru couldn’t answer you if he tried—every word in his throat dies as you press down onto that spot once more, and he’s slamming his hand on-top of yours to make sure you don’t move it. he isn’t sure why he does that exactly, but why does it matter? why does anything matter when you’re touching him like this?
he can’t do this, just one press on his spot has his dick rising and stiff against your thigh, and even you can hardly believe it.
“sato.” you grip his hair to pull him off your chest, just enough to look at you. he whines from the mixture of the nickname and the sting of his scalp.
“b-baby, please.” satoru breathes. you know what he’s asking for, and you figured you’d done enough teasing for a while. you grin, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the pressure point back and forth, up and down, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he came just from this based on the sounds he was making. he hovers you, his arms barely holding his body up, and he’s heaving into your neck.
“breathe, satoru.”
“mmph—i will! i will, just please don’t stop,” satoru whines, his hips grinding down against your thigh. sure, this whole thing is embarrassing as hell, but he couldn’t help the cheeky grin that stretched across his face as you indulged him. as you ran your acrylics over the sensitive part of him, he dropped his head back into your shoulders, and his own started to shake violently.
he was laughing.
you were shocked by this, but you didn’t dare stop. at some point, you couldn’t help but snort a little as he grasped onto you. it was cute—the way his giggles melted into moans, the way he couldn’t control himself or his emotions in the moment. there were no coherent thoughts forming in his head except for fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
and you loved it that way.
#gojo x black reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#jjk satoru#jjk x reader#jjk x black reader#black reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen satoru#satoru x black y/n#gojou satoru x you#satoru smut#syno’s picks 💌#this idea is so funny to me#imagine just lightly touching the back of his neck bc you just like doing that and you’re a physical person and he just moans like LMAO#this also kinda goes into my touch starved gojo agenda but that’s a later convo 🫡
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against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two
alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader
warnings: implied sexual content
(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]
word count: 2.5k
You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed.
Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.
“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.
“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.
You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”
Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale.
Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.
Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.
“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”
You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate.
Unsurprisingly, logic won out.
“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.
“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed.
“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”
There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”
“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips.
You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”
Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…
“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.
“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”
Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”
“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”
“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow.
“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”
“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”
He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”
“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”
At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?”
Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”
At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold.
“When did this happen?”
“Early morning today in our timezone.”
“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”
“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”
“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”
“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”
“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.
“I’ll cover it, Derek.”
“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”
“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”
“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–”
“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.
“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.”
“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”
“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”
“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”
“I will. Love you, sis.”
“I love you, too.”
After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out.
It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.
“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”
Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?
You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.
You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.
“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?
“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.
“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her.
For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.
“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”
“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”
“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”
“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.”
“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”
“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.
“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.
She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.
“–what do you have in mind?”
You blinked. “What?”
Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”
Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue. That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”
You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder.
“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold.
Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”
#ap11#not proofread#mine#my writing#a/n: introduced some fictional characters here for plot purposes and there'll be more later on (i hope that wont put off some people)#i tried not to info-dump but not really sure if i succeeded lol#also i find it difficult to write smut and its even harder without talking about feelings so nothing yet folks im so sorry#and idk when the next part will come out cause its one of the parts that arent fleshed out but ill try to finish it by next week#just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader
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so scarlet (it was maroon)
in which eddie gets everything he dreamed of - except you. based off of "maroon" by taylor swift.
→ warnings: smut, severe angst, hurt/no comfort, 18+ minors dni
→ pairings: rockstar!eddie x fem!reader
→ wc: 11.3k+
→ a/n: don't mind me, just trying to see if tumblr will let me finally post this. this is cross-posted from ao3 (and wattpad)
ao3
"When the morning came, we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf 'cause we lost track of time again. Laughing with my feet in your lap, like you were my closest friend"
“You’re fucking with me,” Eddie sits up to stare at you, lit joint still dangling between his ringed fingers and the last of his latest hit lingering in a ghost of white smoke on his lips.
“I’m not,” you laugh at his reaction, tilting your head forward just enough for where you were sprawled out on his bed to get a better view of him, “I’m scared to take cold medicine now.”
“There’s no way you got high off of the recommended dose!” he cackles, shaking his head in disbelief, a hand coming down on your shin to ground himself. You watch his shoulders shake with laughter, how his curls come down to curtain around his reddening cheeks and his reddening eyes, how his doe eyes are pinched shut and crinkled in the corners.
A map of a million lifetimes, branching out from the corner of those eyes. A million lifetimes, a million possibilities, a million futures. And every single one of them begins and ends with Eddie.
If you stare for too long, you’re going to say something you regret in your high, so you sit up as he had in order to snatch back the joint, “Stop babysitting. Aren’t you the one who’s always chastising me on ‘puff, puff, pass’?”
He feigns offense, mouth wide open and face scrunched up adorably so, as you take a delicate hit. The smoke enters your mouth quickly, wasting no time as it barrels down your throat and curls into every crevice of your lungs. Your chest aches slightly at the intrusion.
His eyes never leave yours. He watches the glaze continue to intensify over them as you slowly exhale. His thumb begins to trace gentle arches over the bare skin of your leg as his warm palm shifts upward, inching until it’s over your knee and resting on your thigh. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“Learned from the best.”
“That you did, sweetheart. That you did.”
He holds his free hand back out for the joint, and your fingertips brush as you return it to him.
“So what? Was it better than this kind of high?” he teases before bringing it to his lips. They’re pursed in preparation, and you only lose your concentration for a moment before remembering to answer him.
“I dunno, Munson. You’ve got some good shit here but… Dayquil might be giving you a run for your money,” you mock, tilting your head and leaning in closer to him. He’s grinning again, looking up through shy lashes before he takes his hit.
This time he doesn’t exhale immediately into the cloudy air of the room. Instead, he takes you off guard as he shifts on the bed and pulls you closer. Soon enough he has you in his lap, draping one arm around your waist as he takes the hand not holding the joint and gingerly grabs your jaw.
You already know the drill. You’re familiar with the process of his shotguns as his fingers tap your cheeks and you let your mouth fall slightly open, leaning to meet him halfway. He still doesn’t exhale, not until his lips have grazed over yours lightly, teasing before he finally seals the two of you together. The kiss is messy, as it always is with him; your tongue can’t differentiate between the taste of him and the taste of the smoke as he presses the kiss deeper. You’re not even sure you breathed in enough to capture any of it, but none of it feels like a waste as he’s biting your bottom lip, hands pulling your hips impossibly close. The joint is eventually discarded on one of the ashtrays on his bedside tables as you lose yourselves into each other. His nose presses itself into flat against yours between hot breaths.
“We can’t-” you pull back, a trail of saliva chasing you before Eddie follows, capturing you in another kiss that you pull back from, “The joint-” another interruption with another desperate kiss, “The incense-”
“The incense will be fine, baby,” he insists, pouting slightly, “It’s not going to burn the house down.”
He kisses you once more, wasting no time to fall backwards into his pillows and dragging you with him. For a moment, you’re straddling him, hovering over him, but he quickly turns and presses your back into his sheets before he’s rolling over on top of you, caging you in. You don’t mind it. You never mind him taking up your space, your breath, your mind.
A hand comes up to rest on your neck as you take a moment to press both hands into his chest, forcing distance. His eyes snap wide open, and they’re shining like a dozen moons at once, even with his pupils blown out.
“And if it does? It if does burn down the house?” you whisper, hands beginning to wander, one finding its way up and around the back of his neck, toying with the curls in its path. The other smooths over his shoulder, prepared to pull him back in impossibly close even without an answer.
He’s looking down at you with all the love in all of Hawkins, in all of the world, as he smirks and answers, “Then I say let it burn.”
"And I chose you, the one I was dancing with in New York, no shoes. Looked up at the sky and it was maroon."
Within a year of graduation, Eddie had made it very clear he wanted to get out of Hawkins. Corroded Coffin had been slowly but surely crawling their way to popularity outside of Hawkins, and when the moment was right, he came to you with an offer you couldn’t refuse.
“Come with me. Move to New York. I know, it’s insane, but-”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Was it ever really a question, Eddie?”
He was it for you, and so when he’d been prepared to beg you on his knees to move with him, it had been a no-brainer. You packed up all your belongings without second-thoughts, said goodbye to the town that never really deserved either of you, and started your life in a big city.
The apartment was small and impossibly cramped, but the first night you two arrived, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if it was in the dingier part of town, or that you two were going to be penniless the next several months as you barely scraped by with rent. The moment you walked into that one-bedroom apartment, you knew it was yours, and you knew with certainty then that you had done it - you had escaped the bleary town and come out the other side.
“Holy shit,” he sighs as he places down one of the last few boxes you’d brought with you amongst one of the several piles littering the living room. You’re sitting on top of one particularly sturdy stack of boxes, the top one serving as a seat most likely filled with your books from home.
“Yeah,” you breath, looking around, completely stunned, “Holy shit.”
Eddie turns in a full circle, almost as if he was drinking it all in, before he faces you once more. His face is a blank slate only for a second before the serendipity and sudden gaiety takes over his features. He’s unexpectedly running in your direction, arms wrapping around you and lifting you off the boxes as you squeal, swinging you around effortlessly.
“We fucking did it!” he cheers over your giggles. When he finally finishes spinning you, letting your sock-clad feet find stability on the hardwood floors, he still doesn’t let you go. He only pulls you into his chest tighter, “We did it. We’re in New fucking York.”
You smile brightly, pressing your cheek painfully against his t-shirt, nodding as you echo, “We did it.”
The moment pauses as he pulls away as suddenly as he had picked you up, still radiating happiness.
“Hold on, wait here. I’ve got an idea.”
He jogs over to one of the stacks of boxes at the entrance of the kitchen as you just laugh, “Not like I’ve got anywhere to run off to, Munson.”
“You better not!” he calls over his shoulder, digging for whatever his brilliant idea was.
You disobey him indirectly by wandering across the living room, steps slow and careful as you approach the large window offering a lackluster view. All you could see, for the most part, was the large brickwall of the neighboring apartment building. It was old and faded, scattered marks of paints from clear graffiti at random intervals. The city had clearly tried to wash away the few remnants of whatever art the random city vigilantes had covered it with, but the reminders of what once was remained. A nod to the fact that sometimes, no matter how hard you try to wash away things, their legacy lingers stubbornly.
You don’t even hear Eddie setting up one of his old boomboxes with a favorite mixtape of the two of yours until it begins to play from the speakers, probably a bit more loud than you should have if you were attempting to be considerate neighbors.
But neither of you cared.
When you turn, you find Eddie approaching you steadily to the beat of the song playing. He takes a step with each beat, swaying his hips in clear exaggeration.
He’s only several paces from you when he holds out a hand, grinning like a fool as he says, “Dance with me, sweetheart.”
You take it, immediately. There’s not a trace of hesitation as you let the boy who held the sun in your eyes drag you across the barren living room, not even dancing to the beat but growing dizzy with love regardless. You let your own happiness mingle with his. As he spins you for the hundredth time, dipping you low and dramatically, you imagine that this is it - this is as good as it could possibly get. Because you’re with your boy, and you two are dancing to your own beat as the mixtape ends, and there couldn’t possibly be a more perfect person than him.
He brings you back up to him as he stands up straight, and not a word is passed as lips crash together. An eager kiss, all teeth and revelations and silent promises of forever. It’s saccharine sweet as his tongue passes over your lips, begging for more closeness. Your chests are so tightly pressed together that with each breath he gasps in, you’re forced to exhale.
“I love you,” he mutters, pulling back momentarily and staring into your eyes. His arms cradle you so carefully, as if scared that when he lets go, you’ll completely disappear from him, “I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”
“It’s real, so you better believe it, rockstar,” you reassure him, “Now shut up and kiss me.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mutters, already so close to you that his lips brush against yours before he’s back on you, hot and heavy.
You’re not sure how exactly it happens, or who first starts encouraging the steps taken towards the hallway, but you end up with your back against the wall as Eddie leans completely into you. You both feel drunk on each other, giddy on your current reality. After a particularly harsh tug on his hair, in sync with a yearning squeeze on your hip, he whispers ‘jump’ into your kiss. Hands find the back of your thighs, molding them into his knuckles as he carries you into the bedroom.
The room is only filled with a few artifacts: boxes of both of your clothes, Eddie’s prized guitar propped up in one of the corners, and a mattress on the floor only covered in a comforter and no sheets yet. The afternoon light is golden as it flutters in through the open window, the sounds of the city muted by your breaths.
He’s impossibly gentle as he lowers the two of you down onto the mattress, careful as he lets you unwrap your legs and flop back. Even with his carefulness, you find your own eagerness causing your movements to be too rough, bouncing back slightly and bumping noses with him. You both take a break to laugh.
“Careful, you klutz,” he warns, balancing himself up on his forearms as he looks down at you in adoration. You don’t respond, instead lifting yourself to capture his lips in yours, pulling him down. Your teeth clash with his as you both continue to giggle into the open-mouthed kiss.
He gives in, hands roaming as they slip below your tattered shirt you’d worn for the occasion of moving. His warm hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and thumbs flicking your already pebbled nipples in order to pull gasps from you. He lets his head drop to your neck, his messy curls tickling your nose as he presses wet kisses down your jugular. Each kiss is in sync with the heavy beating of your heart.
He stops when his path leads him down to your collarbone, sucking and nipping before releasing blooming skin to glance up at your face, twisted in euphoria. “This is real, isn’t it?”
His voice is so soft, you almost don’t hear him. But you look down at him, a boy made of contradictions - of sunshine and moonlight, of passionate and tender actions - and can only smile in serenity.
“Yeah, it is.”
It’s the only encouragement he needs to continue his worship, leaving no patch of supple skin unkissed.
"The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks. So scarlett, it was maroon."
It could have been hours later or days when you’d finally tired yourselves out. It took an impossible amount of willpower, but eventually, you two had untangled yourselves from each other, leaving the warmth of your comforter to continue unpacking.
Or rather, you were unpacking. Eddie had taken to stretching out on the bed, back propped up on the bare wall behind him with his guitar in his lap, strumming mindlessly as he watched you begin to pull your clothes from one of the boxes. You took your time, smoothing out any wrinkles that had formed during the move, focused as you hung your shirts on hangers and put them away into their home in your new shared closet.
Eddie pauses whatever song he had been practicing when he catches sight of a particular shirt you pull from the box.
It’s a white t-shirt. Nothing impressive, but what piques his interest is the splotch of once-red-now-maroon painting the center of the fabric. It’s faded, feathered at the edges, but he knows the story behind that stain all too well.
“You really kept that shirt? Even after I ruined it?” he chuckles, shifting his guitar off his lap, scooting towards the edge of the bed.
You hold it up, laughing as well, taking in the stain that refused to wash out, “Yeah. Sentimental value or whatever,” you tease, looking down at him. You take his breath away like this, in nothing but his Judas Priest shirt that barely reaches your thighs, nothing but underwear on underneath, hair in tangles from your previous activities. But you’re glowing, a glow that he’s been lucky enough to witness on multiple occasions, and it takes everything in him to keep his hands to himself, “Never really wear it, though. Guess I should get rid of it, huh?”
“No,” he answers you far too quickly, “Never. Keep it forever. We can frame it, hang it in the hallway.”
You know he’s not serious, but the thought still makes you smile. You’d never really get rid of it, far too attached to the memories it held, even two years later.
Another Harrington party. Another sea of almost-adults getting far too drunk, far too rowdy. You’d been to your fair share of them, but they never really got easier.
There’s an excitement in the air you can’t place. Maybe it was from graduation, still nearly six months away but on the horizon nevertheless. Or maybe it was simply from the holiday - Halloween. Whatever it was, it buzzed through the air and across your chilled skin.
Your costume was last minute. A half-assed attempt at a pirate costume. It had been thrown together with things you could already find in your closet, for the most part - one of your more flowy white t-shirts, black jeans you’d taken scissors to the knees of in an act of temporary rebellion, heavy boots originally bought for hiking. The only real clues as to what you were had been aiming to disguise yourself as were the cheap eyepatch and doltish pirate hat you’d bought when shopping with your friends for the occasion. But you’d long forgone your eyepatch as the alcohol impaired your vision well enough without the loss of use in one of your eyes.
The hat was a cheap velvet-texture, deep maroon in color and an extravagant black feather barely holding on by the factory glue used to secure it.
Your friends had long since abandoned you. One of them went off with a jock who had caught their eye, the other getting dragged into a very serious game of beer pong. It hadn’t bothered you too much - it had left you to your own devices, nursing a cup of whatever punch had been spiked in a dark corner of the kitchen. You watched your classmates trail in and out for their own dose of alcohol without much interest. Until he walked in.
He was glued to the side of the host himself, Steve Harrington. You overheard a couple of scolding sentences coming from Steve’s lips, something about ‘cutting him off’ and how he needed to ‘compose himself’. It was entertaining, at the least, to watch the boy fumble with himself.
“C’mon, you’ve got to have more whiskey around here somewhere, pretty boy!” he whined, leaning into Steve as he lost his balance momentarily.
“No, Eddie! I mean it, you’re cut off! Now stay here or so help me God-” Steve appeared irritated, but was far more patient than you would have been as he carefully guided his friend to lean on the counter across the room from you. He left the room in a hurry, and you snickered under your breath as the predictable happened right before your eyes - once Eddie was left alone, he immediately began to pilfer for more alcohol.
It takes him a second, to your amusement, before he reappeared from the lower cabinets he had crouched in front of, letting out a loud ‘Aha!’ with a bottle of red wine in hand. He wasted no time in digging through multiple drawers as if it were his own house before he found a corkscrew, and the entire time, your eyes continuously flickered to the entrance of the entrance, waiting until Steve returned and would catch his friend red-handed (literally).
He never did, though. Eddie has enough time to begin struggling with the cork, curses and mutters falling from his lips as you watched on. You’re only pulled from your watchful gaze when you hear a loud pop, and hear a triumphant ‘Fuck yeah!’ from the boy.
Maybe you thought you should intervene, considering you were clearly not as far gone as Eddie, but you weren’t quick enough. You’d walked up behind him, about to announce yourself and stop him, when he turned suddenly, a red cup in hand that was nearly overflowing with red wine.
Eddie hadn’t expected you to be so close, hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Immediately, the cup collided with your chest and the red wine sloshed down the front of your shirt.
You gasped, jumping back slightly, as he cursed, “Oh, shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
Wide, brown eyes found yours, looking sincere in their apology.
He looked around before grabbing a random kitchen towel, unfortunately also a starch white, and began to try and dab at your shirt clumsily.
“No, no, it’s okay,” you insisted as you felt your cheeks begin to burn. He continued to attempt to rectify the matter, clearly panicked. You have to eventually grab his wrists, pulling him and the now-ruined towel away. He looked back up.
It was almost like slow motion. His eyes met yours and you felt time stop. Your fingers stay pressed into his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse, for far longer than necessary.
“It’s fine,” you said once more, finally prying your grip from him. You might have been a little too drunk to care, and you’re sure that sober you would be disappointed in the comfortable t-shirt now being collateral damage, but for now, it didn’t matter.
“I had no clue you were there. I’m- Fuck, I’m drunk. I’m an idiot. Sorry,” he slurred, looking down at you.
You shrugged, playing it off, “Shoulda announced myself sooner. Don’t be sorry, it’s a problem for sober me.”
You really had liked that shirt. It was a shame.
“You know, if you really wanted more alcohol, they still have punch left,” you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder, in the direction of the crystal bowl on the counter you had just been leaning on.
Eddie’s face scrunched up in disgust immediately, “Ew, God no. That shit’s way too sweet.”
You bit your lip to fight laughter, “And wine is any better?”
“It can be, when shared with someone as pretty as yourself,” he has a shameless, flirty grin on his features, raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. You broke, laughing softly and shaking your head.
He had a point. The punch wasn’t very good.
“Alright, then, mister ‘you’re cut off’. I suppose I’ll join you in your antics,” you turned to the sink, dumping the remnants of your punch before turning back to him and reaching for the bottle of wine he still held.
His hand flew out of reach, tsking immediately, “Nope. Allow me.”
It wasn’t a good idea, but you let him take your now-empty cup regardless. He put it down on the counter and focused intently on filling it, nearly emptying the wine bottle as he topped it off just as full as his own had been.
“Jesus, you’d make a shitty bartender. You’re definitely overpouring right now.”
“Hush,” is all he replied as he finished the task at hand, setting down the empty bottle once he poured the last few drops into his own cup, attempting to make up for what was now soaking your shirt. It had started to dry, becoming cold and uncomfortably sticky, but you were too distracted with the boy in front of you to care. “M’lady,” he finally handed back the cup, looking far too proud of himself for not making another mess.
“Thank you,” you teased, giving a messy and exaggerated bow, careful to not spill the wine.
Once your glass is back in your own hand, his began to fumble into the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. It led to him spilling some more of his wine onto his own shirt this time, and you considered how lucky he was that he was wearing black.
“Here,” you gave him no choice as you gingerly took the cup from his hand, freeing him up to find whatever it was he was so desperate to find in his pockets. You take the moment to glance over his costume: he was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. On his face, a pair of small, circular sunglasses were perched haph-hazardly on his nose, the lenses a barely opaque red. You noted the obnoxiously long necklace swinging against his chest, a large silver cross at the end, “What are you even supposed to be dressed up as?”
He yanked a pack of cigarettes successfully from his pocket, grinning like a fool, “Ozzy Osbourne. Duh.”
“Duh,” you mimicked, handing him back his cup of wine before turning more serious,“From Black Sabbath, right?”
His eyes lit up. “You know Sabbath?”
“A little bit,” you shrugged, but that was enough for Eddie.
He slung an arm around your shoulders, cheesy grin and all, as he rattled the pack of cigarettes against your ear. “Say, you smoke?”
You didn’t, but for him, you did. “Yeah, yeah. I could use some fresh air anyways. Lead the way, rockstar.”
"When the silence came, we were shaking, blind and hazy. How the hell did we lose sight of us again?"
“Eddie, you have to call them back and tell them you’ll do it!”
“No! I can’t!”
“You can and you will.”
The fight had started over Eddie’s casual mention of a phone call he’d had earlier that day. It had been six months of New York, of bliss, of living in a pattern of waiting. Every day, you were both waiting; waiting for the next show Corroded Coffin would book, waiting for the next chance he’d have to send off yet another demo to another record label, waiting for the shimmers of what could be his big break. It had been comfortable while it lasted - the two of you were still wrapping your head around having your own routine. Of having something that’s yours.
The phone call today was the end of that waiting game.
The management of a slightly larger band, extending an offer to Corroded Coffin - they wanted them to be the opener for their next tour. It wasn’t an overly large one, it hardly spanned over three months and most of the venues were painfully small compared to what you believed Eddie should be playing, but it was an offer. Gigs, travel paid for, an opportunity for exposure right at his fingertips.
He had told them no.
“I’d have to leave. I’d be on the fucking west coast until December. I’d miss your birthday!” Eddie continues to argue. The two of you were standing in your living room, finally filling out. Shelves had collected framed photos, small knick-knacks that partially came from you and partially came from Eddie. You finally had a couch. It wasn’t a nice one, but it was a couch and it was yours. Something that belonged to both of you.
“You’d be playing shows! Selling merch! Gaining fans! This is your chance. Who cares if you’re not here for my birthday? We can celebrate over the phone, who cares?” your voice was breaking from frustration, not understanding how Eddie isn’t more excited. Instead of the joy you had expected to find on his face when he revealed the news to you, all you could see was fear. He was petrified. You finally drop your voice, taking on a soothing tone as you step in front of your boyfriend, taking his face in shaking hands, “Eddie, I’ll have other birthdays. But this? If you don’t do this… there might not be other tours.”
You could feel tears building up, some from exasperation, but most for the boy in front of you. This was his chance. He was your entire world, and you couldn’t let it pass him by.
He has tears mirroring in his own eyes, searching your face frantically, “I… I don’t want to be away from you. Not right now, not when we’re just figuring all this shit out.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you tearily laugh, “Where would I even run off to, huh? No, stop this bullshit - don’t be an idiot. You go pick up that phone right now and tell that band they have an opener, and a damn good one at that. Right now.”
He’s frozen, leaning his cheeks into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. He just wants to live in this moment. He doesn’t want to think about the enormity of the decision in his hands - he just wants to stay here, in your arms, in the space you two had come to call home.
When your thumb swipes one of his escaped tears from his cheek, he caves. His voice is a ghost of a whisper. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll go call them. But- But when I get back, we’re celebrating the hell out of your birthday, do you understand me? Fuck Christmas, Jesus has had, like, thousands of birthdays. When I get back, all I care about is you.”
You believe him. You believe him with your entire being, never once worrying about him missing something as trivial as the celebration.
“We sure will. Now go on, rockstar. Catch your big break.”
He finally smiles for the first time since he broke the news.
At the moment, all you saw was a world full of beginnings for your boy. This was it, the moment you’d been waiting for, and you couldn’t have been happier for him. The rose-colored glasses never gave you the chance to see it was the beginning for the two of you - the beginning of the end.
"Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us. I feel you, no matter what."
“I miss you.”
Those three months couldn’t have dragged on slower if they tried. But Eddie kept good on his word; every night, like clockwork, he called you. The two of you would take about anything and everything: he’d tell you about the latest crowd that included people who seemed to actually enjoy Corroded Coffin’s set, you’d tell him about the takeout you had for dinner after nearly burning your shared kitchen down, he’d mention the names of cities you could only dream of visiting, and you’d indulge him in theatrically stories of your latest customers from Hell at the small dinner you waitressed at.
“I know you do. I miss you too, Eds,” you sigh over the line, curled up on his side of the bed, even though it had finally stopped smelling like him. Long gone were the scents of late night cigarettes and woodsy cologne, replaced by a nauseating sweetness of your own shampoo and perfume. You hated it, but you’d never let him know that. Not when he seemed to actually be so happy. His breakdown over the offer seemed to fickle now, as it was clear he was enjoying himself. He was living out his dream. Something neither of you had fully processed yet.
“Hey, just two more weeks, right?” you whisper, eyes staring into the shadows across the room. Two more weeks. Fourteen days, and he was all yours once more.
It was your birthday. And it had been the most lonesome to date - a few coworkers had convinced you to go out for drinks after closing up the diner, but the entire time, you had just been anxious to get home and prepare for your phone call with Eddie. Just as the two of you had said, you had committed to somewhat celebrating over the phone.
“Do me a favor. Go into the kitchen real quick,” his voice instructs over the line, and you perk up slightly.
“What? Why?”
“Just trust me, sweetheart.”
You do as he asks, making your way out of the bedroom and down the hall. The apartment is dark, and a bit cold, but you don’t pay it any mind as you make your way to the kitchen.
“Okay, I’m in the kitchen. Now what?”
“The drawer to the left of the fridge. Open it.”
“Our junk drawer?”
“Yes, the junk drawer,” his tone is teasing, never growing irritated with your endless questions, “Open it.”
You hadn’t really touched the drawer since Eddie left, normally only discarded random pens and junk mail filling it. But you're shocked when you find the drawer more organized than you remember it - and in the center of it is a pack of candles.
“Candles?” you ask softly, a smile playing at your lips as your free hand reaches down to grasp the package. You flip it around in your palm, heart warming at the notion, but still feeling confused, “Babe, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t exactly have a cake, or even a cupcake, to put these in.
“You don’t? Damn it. If only I had thought of that,” he hums in a teasing tone, making you lower the hot phone from your ear and glare down at his caller id that illuminates the screen, “Well. What a shame. Hey, do you know the time by chance?”
“Munson, I’m gonna kick your ass,” you mutter, turning to look at the clock over your oven, “It’s 7:59. What’s your game here?”
He doesn’t answer, leaving you further puzzled, instead mumbling what sounds like to himself, “Three, two-”
“Why are you counting down?”
“One.”
A loud knock echoes through the apartment, causing you to jump.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” you hiss over the line, gripping the candles impossibly tight.
“Go answer the door.”
“If you’re on the other side of it, I’m kicking you straight in the-”
“It’s not,” he interrupts, “I wish it was, sweetheart. It’s not. But just trust me, yeah? One last surprise, promise.”
You grumble your entire way to the door, still holding the package of candles as you stop in front of your front door. You pause, taking a deep breath.
“That doesn’t sound like you’re opening the door.”
“Give me a second. Jesus, for all I know, you hired a hitman and I’m about to be brutally murdered when I open this door,” you bite back, and you can hear his guffawing laughter over the line. Your chest burns, wishing you could hear it in person instead, imaging the glee on his face in the moment.
“Not a hitman. That’s for after we have life insurance, baby,” he drawls, and you finally muster the nerve to reach out and twist the knob. You swear you can hear chattering on the other side of the door.
It takes you some struggling as you refuse to let go of the candles, but when you finally swing the door open, you gasp.
There in the threshold stands your friends from Hawkins. Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Johnathan Byers. It’s clear that Nancy and Steve are mid-argument when you open the door, but Robin stands there, proudly showcasing a birthday cake in front of her, shit-eating grin on her face.
“Surprise!” she yells, capturing the attention of the rest of the gang that you and Eddie had left behind. Everyone faces you now, beaming, as you immediately go teary-eyed.
“Oh my God,” you gasp out, dropping the phone and candles to the floor, in shock. Steve steps in first, chuckling as he pulls you into a hug. It’s only then that you notice the bouquet in one of his hands, cellophane crinkling from how tightly he’s holding you. He shuffles the two of you out of the way just enough so that everyone else can enter.
“Your face! God, Munson was right, that was so worth it!” Robin barks as she steps up to the kitchen table and sits down the cake. She’s the next to hug you, yanking you out of Steve’s grasp and nearly crushing you, “Happy birthday,” she whispers happily into your ear, swaying the two of you as she continues to embrace you. You catch sight of Steve over her shoulder, wearing a look of amusement, chuckling and shaking his head.
Jonathan is the one with half a mind to pick up your abandoned phone and candles at the sound of muffled yelling over the line. He wastes no time, putting Eddie on speaker.
“Hellooo? World’s best boyfriend here, remember me? Wow. Can’t believe you’ve already forgotten me. Guess I’ll go fuck myself.”
You laugh as Robin finally lets you go, reaching up to swipe away the tears of jubilation.
Nancy rolls her eyes. “She’s in shock. Give her a second, Munson.”
Jonathan continues to hold your phone as you’re passed into Nancy’s arms and then his. Each whisper their own soft ‘happy birthday’, rubbing your back gently until your focus is back on the phone.
“Edward Munson-”
“Ah! There she is! She lives! And remembers me!”
“Fuck off,” you half-sob, half-laugh. It may not have been as good as him standing there, on your doorstep and embracing you, but it was damn good, “You’re so dead when you get home.”
“Dead? Wow. Weeks of planning only to meet my demise,” he sighs dramatically, “I suppose it’s a good way to go. At the hands of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Beat that, Harrington.”
“Way to stay humble,” Steve chimes at the mention of his name, still grinning. He suddenly remembers the flowers in hand, suddenly thrusting them in your direction as he says, “From Eddie, by the way. He told me if we didn’t get you flowers, he’d castrate me.”
“And I meant it! That’s still on the table if you guys don’t make this her best damn birthday ever.”
“I’m sure he would,” you sniffle, reaching out and gripping the flowers. Your heart cracks slightly, not knowing how to tell him that despite how absolutely endearing the surprise had been, it’d be impossible for them to make this your best birthday.
He wasn’t here. It could only make the top of the list if he were here.
You feel no resentment, though, as you bring the flowers to your nose, smiling until your cheeks ache. “Red carnations. Pretty,” you hum, lost in the moment.
There’s a beat of silence before Eddie’s voice rings out across the room.
“Carnations? Harrington, I said red roses. You’re a dead man walking.”
"And I lost you, the one I was dancing with in New York, no shoes. Looked up at the sky and it was maroon."
Once Eddie returns home, it’s just as he promises - he almost doesn’t even make it through the door when his lips find yours at 3 AM, his suitcase thrown off somewhere to the side of your entryway. He’s too busy to care about anything else but you at the moment.
“Fuck,” he gasps between kisses, “I fucking missed you. God, I missed you.”
You’re silent as you nod in agreement against him, just eager to feel his touch once more. You’d waited three months too long for this moment, ever since he first left through that door for the tour.
“Needy, baby?” he teases, just as breathless as you are when the two of you finally pull apart, him kicking the door shut behind him. Your hands are grabbing weakly at the lapels of his jacket, too eager to be embarrassed, “God, always so needy for me. Just how I fucking like you.”
He’s always talkative, even during sex, but you have no patience for it tonight. “Shut up.”
“Aw, now that’s no way to greet your boyfriend you missed, is it, baby?” he eggs you on, looking down at you and your swollen lips with a wicked grin.
You open your mouth to snark back, but he refuses to give you the chance before he’s picking you up, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.
“Eddie!” you shriek, but laughter laces the protest. Your hands grip the back of his t-shirt as he begins to walk down the hallway, and you start to kick your feet out of defiance, but a sharp smack sounds through the quiet apartment as he playfully slaps your ass, putting an end to the kicks.
“Yeah, you better warm up those vocal chords,” he chuckles. The moment you’re back in your bedroom, he’s quick to toss you onto the mattress, finally mounted on a frame. The comforter flares around you, your head sinking into a pillow as Eddie is quick to remove his jacket and shirt, climbing up the bed between your legs, “Gonna have you chanting my name like a goddamn prayer, sweetheart.”
He removes your pajamas as he has a thousand times before, but it still doesn’t feel fast enough. You find yourself squirming, trying to help him pull off the flannel pants and t-shirt you’d stolen from his side of the closet, but he stops all movements immediately.
He shakes his head, hovering above you, his hair like a curtain around the two of you as your top lip brushes his bottom one and his mint breath fans over your face. “Slow it down for me, yeah? Wanna enjoy this,” he murmurs.
You obey, stilling below him save for your chest, rising and falling rapidly with waiting breaths. He finally dips down, his pick necklace tickling your collarbones as his mouth covers yours.
A culmination of three long months is spent into the kiss. All the restless nights, long phone calls, endless yearning. You can tell that he had missed you, longed for you, just as much as you had him.
It’s languid, the way your body reacts to each of his touches. As far as it was concerned, no time had passed. He does as he had said, taking his time, savoring each kiss he presses down your throat and over your breasts. He’s memorizing each crevice of you, every soft curve he’d dreamt of for 91 days.
Your squirming resumes when his hot breath reaches your navel, but he doesn’t scold you, bringing his hands to your hips and pressing them down into the mattress. “Let me show you just how much I missed you. Let me take care of you, baby.”
He’s enjoying it, the sound of your whines a better soundtrack than any of the music that had damaged his eardrums during the tour. His fingers dance over your bare skin, skimming right over the band of your underwear and tracing lines down your thighs. It’s agonizing - the waiting is terrible.
Terribly worth it, as it turns out.
When he finally decides to speed up his teasing, bringing a finger to brush across your clothed slit, you gasp. Your hands twist into the sheets at each side of you, but he isn’t having it.
“Now that’s not where those belong,” he mumbles, a hot breath over your panties sending shivers down your spine. He’s quick - his fingers suddenly hook into the waistband, and he’s pulling them down and off over your ankles with an eagerness finally matching your own. He throws them aimlessly to the bedroom floor, joining the rest of your discarded clothes recklessly. Neither of you care - you won’t be needing them the rest of the night.
He settles into the mattress, a leg thrown over each of his shoulders before he grabs your hands and guides them to tangle into his hair. He’s still taking his time, sucking his way up your inner thighs and leaving flowering bruises in his wake. Once he reaches where you want him to most, where you’re aching for him so pitifully, he pauses.
He repeats his earlier words, “God, I’ve missed you.”
He takes you by surprise as he dives right in, tongue flattening and licking a long stride up, starting at your entrance. His nose bumps over your clit before his tongue begins to dance circles, painting a secret language between the two of you over the sensitive bundle of nerves. One of his hands joins him, middle finger circling your entrance slowly before he presses in. He sets a pace quickly, pumping the finger a few times, tongue working magic, before he adds a second one. They curl with intention, pressing into the spongy spot of your walls that he knew like the back of his hand. It’s the exact spot that makes your back arch off the bed.
He pulls back his mouth, fingers continuing to pump and curl vigorously as he looks up at you dreamily. He eases one of his arms over your hips, pressing down, holding you in place.
He’s a dream. A goddamn dream. He’s finally here, looking up at you, grinning like a Devil as he watches you unravel at his hand.
“So pretty. Always so, so beautiful, but especially like this,” he says more to himself, but you hear him, a moan falling from your lips. His mouth returns to you, lips latching onto your clit, sucking harshly.
“Fuck,” you breathe into the still air of your apartment room, not caring if the neighbors hear but your chest too heavy to grow much louder, head fuzzy and all-consumed by him, “Eddie.”
He was right. His name falls from your mouth in pants, chanting to him as if he were your God.
It only spurs him on, fingers working expertly as he alternates between sucking and lapping at your clit. You can hear how wet you are for him, how close you are before the knot forms in your abdomen.
“Oh my God- Oh, fuck. Right there,” your hips buck involuntarily into his face, and he loosens his grip on your hips, letting you, “I’m gonna…G-Gonna…”
“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he encourages, fingers curling harshly, “Cum on my face, baby. Do it.”
He puts his tongue back to work, You force your eyes open to catch sight of him, buried in your pussy, admiring how pretty he looked from this angle. The sight of his tousled curls, twisted tightly in your grip as you yank mercilessly, is all it takes for you to finally come undone.
A broken prayer, repeated over and over as a warmth rushes over you. Your vision goes white, eyes tightly screwed shut, toes curling and thighs clenching over his ears. It doesn’t phase him, continuing his assault until he’s sure you’ve come down. You have to tug on his hair, more intentional this time, to pull him away from you due to how sensitive you grow.
He rises, letting your legs fall limply against the mattress as he wears a boyish grin on his slick lips. Slowly, he makes his way up to you, back to the virtues of patience as he takes his time to finally kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, a bitter sort of sweetness, as he cradles your face.
“You good?” he gently asks against your lips. You can barely move, nodding lethargically.
“So good,” you croak, a smile breaking out. Your eyes crack open to see him looking down at you with pure adoration, “I missed you.”
You start to run your hand down his chest, reaching the zipper of his jeans before his hand stops you.
“No, not yet. We’ve got plenty of time for that. Just wanna hold you right now, baby,” he nearly pleads. You can’t deny him, not with his eyes shining like that, so you allow him to fall into place on his side of the bed before you curl up against his bare torso.
The two of you stay that way for what feels like hours, his arms wrapped around you as he traces out constellations on your bare shoulder blades. Just outside of your solace, a bubble you’ve trapped yourselves in, you can hear the faint call of the city. Honks from cars on the street, shouts from pedestrians, the occasional siren. It’s all background noise to this moment.
“I have something for you,” he suddenly whispers as you teeter on the edge of sleep. You hum in response, lifting your head lazily. He pats you gently, signaling for you to let him stand before he walks to his discarded jacket by the door. When he returns to your side, he's gripping a small, white box, tied with a scarlet ribbon.
“A gift?” you ask, excitement helping wake you up as you sit up quickly, “For me?”
“For you,” he affirms, taking a seat beside you. Your knees bump as your hands fumble to take the box from him. A soft glow from one of the restaurants on your street floods between the curtains and into the room, a soft neon pink illuminating your features as you carefully unravel the red ribbon.
As the silk falls, you hardly can contain your excitement before lifting the lid off the box.
A necklace.
Your eyes trace over it, already fawning with appreciation for your boy, but then you catch sight of exactly what the necklace is.
“Your mom’s ring?” you can’t hide the emotion that shakes the timbre of your voice. It cracks into a million pieces.
At the end of the delicate silver chain, sits his mother’s ring. The one you hadn’t even noticed missing from his barren right hand.
“Happy birthday,” he whispers, pulling you in and pressing his lips into your temple. You’re still too stunned, too overcome with a million and one feelings all at once.
“Eddie… I- I can’t… this is-”
“I want you to have it. I think she’d want you to have it, too,” he insists, taking the box from your grasp and lifting the necklace from its cotton cushion, “I know it’s not a lot, but I just… I wanted to get you something that let you know how important you are to me. Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart. This is- this is real to me. The kind of real that lasts forever.”
You can tell he’s growing emotional, too, as his feather light touch brushes your hair to the side, bringing the necklace up around your neck and clasping it securely. When the ring falls to its new home at the base of your neck, cool against your skin, you can feel tears falling. He’s quick to swipe them away, his own watery irises peering into yours.
“You’re everything to me,” he says this with vindication. With such assuredness it terrifies you, burrows into your bones and claims you.
In this moment, you know he has forever stained you. There was no washing this mark he has left you off - there would forever be a piece of your heart occupied by the brown-eyed boy in front of you.
All you can do is lean forward, hands gingerly threading through his bangs as you push them back to plant a kiss on his forehead. A crimson blush spreads across his cheeks and neck at the act of tenderness.
When you pull back, he immediately lifts his fingers to the necklace he’s just gifted you, fingers careful but determined as they tug you back to him, kissing you with everything in him. He pours his soul, his body, and his heart into it.
“I love you,” you exhale against his swollen lips.
“And I love you.”
You believe him, because he believes himself. That’s the thing about endings - no one sees them coming.
"The mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips I used to call home. So scarlet, it was maroon."
The next year proves you right. After that tour, Corroded Coffin became a phenomenon. A record deal falls into the boys’ laps quickly, multiple one-off shows selling out locally before the news finally comes that they are officially in the position to record their debut album.
The two of you celebrate with cheap wine, but it’s as sweet as champagne in your contentment.
The recording of the album is brutal. Night after night, you attempt to wait up on Eddie, eventually falling victim to drowsiness before he would wake you with his arrival from the studio in the early hours of the morning. You never minded, only happy for his warmth as he crawled right into bed with you, collapsing into you and letting the world melt away.
Long gone are the days of struggling paycheck-to-paycheck as the boys’ can hardly keep up with printing enough shirts for their shows, merchandise selling out in the handfuls.
You catch sight of a young girl wearing one of their shirts one day in the grocery store, and can’t help the flood of pride that overtakes your chest. Your boyfriend, your Eddie, was finally having all of his dreams come to fruition; the world was finally seeing him as the rockstar you’d nominated him as since that first night.
You can tell that it’s tiring. Eddie is exhausted by the time the album is finished, but you can also sense the satisfaction he felt at finally completing it. When the first demo arrived, he wasted no time in electing you to be the first to listen to it. It was an entire ordeal - the two of you ordered your favorite take-out, curling up on your couch and pressing together as the same boombox that had played that mixtape on your first night in your home now plays his songs.
Your reaction was exactly as he had expected, as he had hoped for.
You had always been his number one cheerleader through it all. With each new song, you were gushing to him with admiration and reverence. Pointing out lyrics that tugged particularly taut on your heartstrings, praising the guitar solos and vocals he’d worked tirelessly to perfect. You don’t leave a single stone left unturned, claiming this was your new favorite album.
“Careful, sweetheart. You’re really stroking my ego here,” he warns, but his smile shines as brightly as your own.
“Eddie, this is… this is… it’s fucking incredible!” you cheer, completely at a loss for words. You weren’t exaggerating - to hear all of his hard work paying off, to have watched him grow from covering Metallica in a stuffy garage to this left you starstruck. You were in absolute awe.
He blushes, playing with his hair and bringing it up to hide his emotional reaction.
The album could fail. It could become nothing more than a whisper in the night, but the fact that you liked it was all that mattered to him.
You look at him earnestly, taking his cheeks in your warm and soothing palms, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eds.”
And you were. You continued to be. The album was a hit.
It climbed the charts with ease, just as you expected. Local alternative stations played it on loop. You were sure to hear it at least once during taxi rides, and had even heard it playing softly over the speakers at the gas station on the corner by your apartment complex. Eddie had been with you, and took pleasure in getting to inform the cashier that it was his song playing, his band was on the radio.
It was New York, so the cashier couldn’t have cared less, but it made you glow with pride.
But with a hit album came a new slew of responsibilities for the band, including a headlining tour.
The night that the band’s manager called Eddie, informing him they were set to start planning the tour, he’d run into the room, so frantic you were worried something bad had happened.
“Holy shit!” he yells, causing you to shush him once you recovered from the scare he’d caused you. He ignores you, grabbing you off the bed, lifting you up and spinning you, just like the very first night, “Holy shit! We’re going on tour! A headlining tour! I’m going to be a goddamn rockstar!”
Once you process his news, you become just as animated in his arms, “What? No fucking way!”
“Yes fucking way!”
“Oh my God!”
“I know!”
You hear banging on the wall from the neighbors, probably shouting at the two of you to quiet down, but neither of you can contain your excitement.
“I’m going to be a goddamn rockstar, baby,” he laughs deliriously, placing you back down so that you’re face-to-face with him, “A rockstar.”
“You’ve always been a rockstar, pretty boy,” you giggle, cheeks sore with elation, “The rest of the world is just finally getting the memo.”
The planning takes a while. Part of you is grateful, selfishly drinking in and enjoying the time you have left with him before you’re sure he’ll have to leave for an extended period. The names of cities you had never had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with once again enter conversations, talks of how far and wide the band would travel becoming Eddie’s favorite topic.
You’re proud of him, you really are. But reality seeps its way into the crevices.
What starts as the possibility of a brief, three month tour - something the two of you had already faced and defeated triumphantly - quickly turns into six months. And it doesn’t stop there. Six months could become eight, easily, with adding in a few pit stops to radio stations to guarantee continued radio-play. There’s talks of signings, of meet and greets, of music festivals. The more time given to planning, the more time given for the band’s popularity to grow even more.
The entire thing expands without consideration, lifting Eddie right up with it, right out of your reach.
The night before he’s set to leave for tour, your anxieties are getting the best of you. You had helped him pack, going over the list of necessities with him three times too many. He had everything he needed, packed tightly into a suitcase - everything except you.
That night, you sit on your side of your shared bed, watching Eddie pace with excitement. You feel guilty that your own anticipation can’t quite match his. All you can think about is how long he’ll be gone: eight months, two hundred and forty five days. Five thousand, eight hundred and eighty hours. Over three hundred thousand minutes. You’d done the math.
“Fuck,” he sighs, finally throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
You can’t bring up your insecurity, your fears, to him. Not when he’s so happy. Not when he’s finally getting everything he’d dreamt about for so long, worked so hard for. No, it would be selfish to share your unease at the time and distance about to spread between the two of you.
Besides, you had done it once before. Not on this scale, of course, but you convinced yourself it would work out all the same. He would call as often as he could. He’d be coming home to you. It would pass - it would work out.
“It’s real, so you better believe it, rockstar.”
An echo of the past. A time that felt so far away from the two of you now. This time around, as you say them, you don’t feel the same joy coating your tongue.
Your tone is supportive, so Eddie doesn’t taste any of the disdain. Later that night, as he’s kissing you, hips rolling to meet yours in a sacred promise, fingers intertwined in yours as you pant each other’s names back and forth, he still doesn’t taste it. All he tastes is euphoria. And he brings you right to it with him, over, and over, and over again.
Euphoria tastes metallic by the end of it.
He leaves bruises painted up and down your neck, covering your collarbones and chest like an art piece hanging in the Louvre. You can’t help but wonder how long it will take for his marks to fade, for the physical reminder that he was here and in your arms to disappear from your grasp.
As he makes love to you, it begins to feel like a goodbye, because it is.
He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but it does.
The first month follows similarly to how his first tour did. Nightly phone calls, whispered love confessions and discussions of each other’s day. For a moment, you convince yourself that all of your fears and anxieties had been silly. They almost recede from your mind completely, fading with his love marks on your collarbone.
But then it begins.
Phone calls become less frequent. Every night because every other night, until they’re eventually weekly. At some point, you only have the privilege of hearing his voice over the line monthly. It is a slow burning fire, turning everything you had built with him to ashes. Conversations that once could drag on for hours turn to ten minute discussions that end in him rushing off the phone, someone on the other end of the line demanding his attention more urgently than you did.
You can’t even fight it. You need him, but they need him more.
You know you’ve lost him when he stops saying he loves you. It’s subtle, you don’t even believe he’s noticed, but one night’s phone call is cut particularly short, and the end arrives.
“Hey, baby, I’m sorry, but they need me for soundcheck,” he says, the line staticky with white noise, making it hard to hear him.
He’s never felt farther away, and they’re not even on the west coast leg of the tour yet.
“Oh,” you whisper, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. You miss hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”
“Of course. Go give ‘em, Hell,” you keep your tone light, but the tears have started to build up across your waterline, “I love you.”
The line goes dead before you can even finish your sentence. The dial tone echoes back to you, and it doesn’t matter how hard you strain, no words of affection can be deciphered in its deafening ringing.
That’s when you break.
The flood comes, tears racing down your cheeks as you roll over and clutch the pillow that you’re not even sure was once his. The bed no longer has a clear boundary, a side that belonged to him and a side that belonged to you. It’s all muddled together now. You’re not even sure you’d recognize the smell of his cologne now.
A heart has never broken so quietly. The sobs are there, but no sounds escape your mouth as you whimper. You had always known it would be hard, everyone had warned you, but you had always assumed you could take it, because Eddie would be by your side, hand slotted with yours as it was the two of you against the world. But now you stood in the storm, and the space beside you was eerily empty. It was all a bit much. A gaping hole forms in your chest that night, gory as it bleeds scarlet red for a boy a world away, and you know that there is not a single bandage in the world to heal it.
He doesn’t call back after that, and the hole tears larger.
There’s a few texts here and there. But none of them ever say the three words you so desperately crave from him. You feel like strangers.
After two months of radio silence, save for two text messages from him, you’ve made up your mind.
He never calls, so you never tell him. You gather what belongings can be called solely yours, which isn’t many, and you write a letter in your cowardice. You find an apartment on the other side of town. There’s a nice job waiting for you, something that pays better than waitressing.
You leave your key on the kitchen counter beside a vase with wilted carnations.
"I wake with your memory over me, that’s a real fucking legacy (it was maroon)."
Six months later, the ache never fades. He calls. When he returns from tour to find an empty apartment, cursive letter calling it quits, he calls. You almost consider changing your number at one point.
There’s a flood of text messages. Small letters on a shining screen filled with all the words you needed to hear so many months before. All of the things he should have said, now revealed too late.
You don’t reply, because if you reply, you’ll change your mind.
You tell yourself it’s for the best. That in order for him to achieve what he’d wanted, he couldn’t have someone back home weighing him down. You were a road bump on his path to everything he was destined to be, and this was for the best.
At some point, he gets the message. You wish he hadn’t, selfishly so, but he does. The phone calls stop. The text messages don’t light up your phone at midnight anymore. You keep up your end of the lease on your once-shared apartment, sending checks to pay your half of the rent until the lease agreement has ended. You have no clue if he moves. Returning to that side of town would simply hurt too much.
A new normalcy is found. It is a lonely one, but it is one all the same. Sparse phone calls are still exchanged with your friends from Hawkins, but none of them ever bring up Eddie. You’re sure they know, that he had told them, that they had witnessed the aftermath (if there had been any). They were always his friends first, though, and so when the calls dwindle, it doesn’t surprise you.
It’s a year later when someone mentions his name to you. You had kept up well enough with Corroded Coffin, the last remnants of your past life being something you couldn’t get rid of. You knew they were thriving; they were in the talks of releasing a second album, and going back on tour soon. His name is mentioned when a coworker brings him up.
They ask you if you want to attend the Corroded Coffin show with them next week. They have a spare ticket and would prefer to not go alone.
You lie and say you have plans.
But the only plans you have on that bustling night are the ones spent in your apartment. Your one-bedroom apartment is in a nicer part of town, better views out of the window now. When you pull back the curtains, you don’t find a brick wall forever tainted by what once was - you can see the entrance to a music venue that’s sign currently advertises tonight’s show.
CORRODED COFFIN, ONE NIGHT ONLY - SOLD OUT
You avoid the window at all costs as you get yourself ready for bed that night. Neighbors had already off-handedly warned you it would be a noisy night, claiming you’d feel as if you were at the show yourself based on proximity. On your way home from work, you bought earplugs.
But the night grows older, a chill in the air as the clock strikes ten, and you can’t help it. You’ve been laying in bed for hours now, earplugs in, only feeling the faint thrumming of intense bass for less than an hour when you finally stand up. You approach the window timidly, scared of what you find. Maybe a ghostly reflection of him, standing in the street, holding up a boombox playing a mixtape of your favorite songs.
It’s a bitter hopefulness that is full of childish dreams.
When you stand in your window, curtains pulled back and earplugs finally disregarded on your nightstand, Eddie Munson isn’t standing on the street. All that is there is the neon glow of a red sign that shatters crimson shadows across your cheeks.
He’s not on the street. He’s too busy on the stage inside, being the rockstar he had always been destined to be. The one he could be now that you had let him go.
All that you see as you look out the window is your own tired reflection, donning nothing but a wine-stained t-shirt and a delicate, silver chain around your neck, a ring you couldn’t bring yourself to return resting heavily between your collarbones.
"That’s a real fucking legacy to leave."
reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated! <3
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#oooo look at me trying to post this several months later#and at 2 am no less#i'm just in a silly goofy mood and curious#will it post? will it stick? will it get me thrown in shadow jail?#time will tell!#also i made that divider myself i'm very proud of myself#formatting is bad but hey#it is what it is!
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Baby Fever
Ominis Gaunt x Fem!MC. 11 years after the events of fifth year. Could been seen as a final part to Note Taking. But trilogy is so sweet I didn’t want to include smut.
Summary: Anne is struggling after the birth of her child, and Sebastian has too many kids of his own to give Anne the proper care she needs. Sebastian calls on you for help, but your husband Ominis insists on coming along despite his affinity for children. 13.3k long so grab some tea besties.
Warnings: 9.5k of fluff and angst and Ominis healing from childhood trauma and then about 3.5k of smut. Breeding kink but like- it’s sweet I swear. Maybe a bit of cockwarming thrown in there (Sorry, Jesus. I’ll repent later). Minors DNI!
.🍼🌿🍼
Y/N,
I hate to do this while business is booming for you, or should I say blooming? Sorry. I need a bit of humor whenever I can get it. Anne is not doing well since having the baby. She’s been on bed rest and she’s a complete mess. I can imagine you ridiculing me, but I am allowed to say such things. She is my twin after all.
Her husband still isn’t back from that work trip. My wife has been asking around the Ministry for me, but no one knows anything. He wouldn’t have missed the birth of their daughter. And she’s four days old now, the cutest thing, by the way. She's starting to look just like Anne’s baby photos.
Anyway, I’m getting off track here. Sorry if this letter is scattered. I’ve got all four of my kids here with me. Their mother has to work while I’m taking off time to look after Anne. Obviously, someone has to earn money for the abundance of school robes we’ll be paying for in the very near future. They can’t be home alone with the youngest being only one. He’s walking now! Have I told you yet? Well, standing and wobbling. He’s getting there. Gonna be the next Slytherin Quidditch Captain in no time.
All this is to say, I need some help here with Anne. Helping her and taking care of her newborn is a two-person job. My kids make it a three-person job. I’m drowning a bit in diapers and screams and tears. Think everyone here has had a tantrum today alone, including me.
Needing your help desperately, my dear sister-in-law of mine. Don’t let Ominis roll his eyes when you read him that bit. He is my brother, blood be damned.
Sincerely,
Your Most Handsome Brother-in-law
S.S.
P!S! Please for the love of Merlin, bring washcloths. Between everything I’m trying to keep up with laundry and it’s simply impossible.
You glanced over the top of the letter once you were done reading it aloud. Contrary to Sebastian’s predictions, Ominis was not rolling his eyes. In fact, he looked forlorn and pale. Not only was he worried about Anne’s safety considering her poor condition after having the child, but he was no doubt worrying about Anne’s husband who was actually quite a lovely bloke. He fit in just right with Anne and Sebastian, and he very quickly grew on Ominis despite his attempts to keep the jokester at bay. In his eyes, Ominis had enough of that energy with Sebastian and Anne, who had been handling her curse greatly in the last few years and was back to her wild self, until the pregnancy complications that is.
What Ominis refused to acknowledge was that Anne’s husband didn’t have the mischief or malice of Sebastian and Anne. He was just a golden, loveable, arguably dopey guy. His love for Anne was so pure. He bawled multiple times on their wedding day. Being gone for so long during the latter days of Anne’s pregnancy was unlike him. And to miss the birth of his firstborn child, and likely their only considering the complications, was beyond excusable. Not that he would even try to excuse it because he was truly that honest of a man!
And then there was Anne, the most heartbreaking part of the letter. The doctors had her on bed rest seemingly indefinitely. She spent the last two months of her pregnancy in that dreary bedroom. When her husband was forced onto his work trip a week and a half ago, you closed up your magical plant shop and stayed by her side until the baby was born. A girl. She was born healthy with the cutest button nose. You held her for hours after she was born while the healers and Sebastian all huddled around Anne in worry.
Once Anne was safe and resting, Sebastian had tiredly collapsed on the couch next to you. You hadn’t seen him that exhausted since you were teens still in school, causing mayhem that affected yourselves more than others. His wife had been watching over all four of their kids all day so that Sebastian could spend that moment with his twin. You put the baby girl in her uncle’s arms and the two fell right asleep just like that.
It had only been a few days, but you were wanting so desperately to get back to the little girl. And while Sebastian’s kids were a handful, to say the very least, you wanted to see them as well. You had done your fair share of babysitting those mongrels, so they were quite attached to you. Their obsession with you and inclination to always come visit and run up and down the hall of your home was actually welcomed, as crazy as that sounded.
By the time you realized you loved children and wanted some of your own, you were already deeply devoted to Ominis. Because of his past, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having children of his own. That was fine. Sebastian seemed set on having plenty for everyone.
Ominis stood from his velvet armchair and announced, “I’ll grab the washcloths.”
“Ominis, you do not have to go.”
He had stopped in the middle of the hall to ponder it. His head shook in disapproval. “I’m going to look after Anne. You’ll look after the baby. Sebastian will pack up the Quidditch team and head home so that Anne can rest in a peaceful house. Does that sound like a plan?”
You met him in the hallway and took his hands in yours. Butterfly-soft kisses were left on his knuckles. You spoke firmly and slowly to make your point. “You do not have to go with me to Anne’s. I can take care of both. It’s okay.”
“Don’t insult me,” Ominis insisted with a harsh whisper. “I won’t faint at the sight of a child, and if Anne needs me, I will be by her side. She is my sister.”
You chuckle, lightening the room for a moment, “Oh, so Anne is your sister, but you can’t admit Sebastian is your brother.”
“That’s because Anne is my sister through and through, but Sebastian can’t just claim such a title just because his kids call you Auntie. Such a thing has to be earned! Bestowed upon!”
“Okay, okay,” you giggled and smoothed his shirt across his shoulders to calm him. “You know he only says it at this point because it gets a rise out of you. And perhaps that’s why I bring it up too. You’re cute when you go red.”
“Oh, well thank you for adding to the stress,” Ominis shortly huffed in annoyance then turned to the bathroom to grab your house’s supply of washcloths.
Usually, he went along with your playful tones unless he was really out of sorts. You frown and follow right at his heels into the bathroom. “Sweetheart, we are all stressed. I’m sorry to make light of things in such dark times, but you always say you enjoy my light. I’m only trying to help you feel better.”
“I know. But right now-“ Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can I just be alone for a moment? Why don’t you go pack up those strawberries for Sebastian’s kids? You know we won’t finish them before they go bad if they stay in our kitchen.”
With your head hung low, you trudged to the kitchen and began to ransack your cupboards for potential meals. If things were really as bad as Sebastian made them seem, he likely didn’t have time to cook properly for the kids, Anne, and even himself. A few sandwiches and the berries would make a healthy enough lunch. If Ominis was truly planning to go with you, Sebastian really could head home for a break like Ominis suggested. Sebastian could no doubt figure out dinner for his kids at his own home with the stress of Anne and the newborn off his shoulders.
“I’m sorry for snapping,” that was Ominis leaning against the doorframe to your tiny kitchen. He looked exhausted as though he fought some great battle during his moments of solitude in the bathroom. He hated this side of himself, the one that could be so cruel. With his history and his trauma from his childhood, you didn’t ever fault him for being triggered.
The entire friend group was blissful until Sebastian started having kids with his wife, which was only a year or two into having your adult jobs after graduating from Hogwarts. Ominis had gotten used to them, slightly, but now with Anne having a child, he felt like he couldn’t turn in any direction without feeling an immense guilt.
“That was hardly snapping,” you kept up your light tone. It wasn’t an act. You really weren’t fazed by his behavior. These were stressful times for everyone. “You’ve bitten me before, so I think I got off a bit lucky this time.”
His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. After all these years, you could still fluster him. It was actually one of your favorite pastimes. How much teasing could Ominis handle? You were always itching to find out.
“That- that was one time. And you- you said you liked it,” Ominis straightened from his lean against the doorframe as he stammered on, “And that was different.”
“I did like it,” you reassured him. Memories of that night fluttered back. The sting in your shoulder. The cold from the blood dripping down. Tasting metallic on his lips afterward… “Maybe if you would bite me more, I wouldn’t have to keep pressing your buttons to see which one ignites that side of you.”
Ominis rubbed his face as though he was tired of your antics, but his cheeks turning a deeper shade, nearly all red now, told you all you needed to know. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Didn’t I just admit to doing it on purpose?”
Ominis could hear the knife come out into the cutting board. He tilted his head. “What have you been up to in here? Thought you were going to grab the strawberries.”
“Sandwiches for everyone. Doubt Sebastian has had time to make lunch yet. I’d rather make them here than amid whatever chaos is happening there.”
Then Ominis was behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to map out where you were. It glided down to the small of your back and then snakes around the front, his other joining as his body pressed into yours from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder. His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, “Forgive me for taking my stress out on you?”
“You hardly said anything, Ominis. There is nothing to forgive.”
His lips pressed right at the back of your jaw where it met your ear. “Maybe I’m asking in advance for tonight.” Then his mouth opened. His teeth grazed your skin so lightly you thought you imagined it. And then, rather evilly in your opinion, Ominis stepped back and released his hold on you. “Hurry up with those sandwiches. I’m going to handle a few things before the trip, but I’ll be waiting by the fireplace to floo by the time you are done in here.”
Sure enough, your husband was waiting for you patiently at your fireplace after you finished packaging up the lunches. He held out a hand to steady you as you stepped up on the brick, hardly a necessary gesture, but he was being extra sweet with you while he still could.
“I put a closed sign out on the shop,” he sounded almost formal about it.
“Thank you,” you breathed out in gratitude, “I completely forgot.”
“That Alihotsy is getting a bit big for the nursery. It’s extending across the walkway. Startled me for a second.”
“Sorry. Yes. That fellow from Honeydukes is meant to come by sometime this week for it. I’ll have to write him to explain that we are looking after Anne. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if we dropped it by late at night on his doorstep?”
“Maybe tomorrow night. We’ll be too tired after this.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “You always talk me into being lazy with you. Promise you won’t talk me out of it tomorrow too?”
“I would like its leaves out of the walking path, so I promise, tomorrow night we can take it to him. I won’t drag you to bed too early.”
“But I do look forward to ending up in bed with you after.” And with that, you threw down the floo power and were transported to Anne’s bungalow in Feldcroft. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the noise. There was a baby crying, kids screaming, and footsteps pounding around on the hardwood floor.
“I said to get that thing out of here!” That was Sebastian, sounding exasperated.
“I can’t catch it!” His oldest child, who was seven going into eight now, whined back.
“Then chase it out the door! It can’t be in here. It- oh! Y/N. Thank Merlin you’re here. Popped in at an awful time. Sorry for the mess.” Sebastian, while cradling his youngest in his arms, a baby who was about a year old now, kicked a few toys out of the way so you could step off the edge of the fireplace.
“Auntie Y/N!” Three children trapped you with hugs from all around. Then behind you, Ominis popped up in the fireplace and the three were rushing to embrace him as well.
You chuckled and put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to ask, “Seb, why is there a chicken on the couch.”
“It’s on the-?” Sebastian turned and started to wave the brown chicken off of his sister’s couch. “Shoo! Shoo! You are lucky I haven’t cooked you yet!”
You rolled your eyes and pulled out your wand. “Levioso. Accio.” The brown chicken squirmed in your arm, but you held it at your hip and then turned to the three kids with an eyebrow raised. “Who brought a chicken in the house while Auntie Anne isn’t feeling well?”
None of the kids said a word, but the two oldest shoved each other while they all stared at the floor in shame. You sighed and said, “If you go and collect all the toys in the house and put them in the diaper bag, I will give you the surprise I brought.”
The kids lit up. Their guilt long forgotten.
“A surprise?!”
“What is it?”
“Ah, ah, ah. Pick up your toys first.” Then the three of them were off collecting the messing they made and putting it in their youngest sibling’s enchanted diaper bag.
You put the chicken in the backyard and came back to see Sebastian and Ominis having a chat on the couch while the baby while trying to pull itself up on the side to join in. Ominis flinched when the baby grabbed his pant leg. You were quick to dive down and pick the little one up, grunting as you did so.
“My oh my, you have gotten big! What are they feeding you? Rocks?”
“That one’s gonna win the World Cup. I just know it. Gonna be the best Beater there is.” Sebastian played with the baby’s chunky ankles while you held it. It cooed back at him as if it understood and agreed.
You laughed and moved the baby to your hip to then use your free hand to touch Ominis’s shoulder. “You wanna go check on Anne while we set up the picnic for the kids outside?”
Ominis nodded and stood up to leave. He seemed thankful to have an excuse not to join the chaotic lunch plans.
Sebastian smiled wide. “Am I hearing this right? You brought lunch?”
“Just some sandwiches and strawberries. Figured you hadn’t had the time.”
With an exasperated sigh, Sebastian leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “You thought right. It’s been… a lot. The baby is sleeping now, I mean, the other baby, the newborn, Anne’s baby.” Sebastian paused for a second then whispered, “That’s still so crazy for me to say. I’m so happy for her.”
“You and your cousin are going to be the best of friends!” You told the one-year-old on your hip. So close in age. How fun! They’ll only be a year apart at Hogwarts. Bet they’ll get into even more trouble than we did.”
Sebastian covered his face and groaned. “Merlin, don’t say that. They already make me crazy as it is. Can’t imagine how I’d handle them being as wild as us.”
“Sebastian, there was a chicken on the couch when I got here. You may want to mentally prepare yourself for all sorts of Hogwarts shenanigans.”
Meanwhile, Ominis was knocking on Anne’s bedroom door and waiting to hear her voice before letting himself in. Sebastian’s kids were still being rather loud, but the decibel levels had greatly depleted. Ominis shut the door gently, but firmly, hoping to trap out any further noise. Their little feet could still be heard scampering about the echoey wooden floors as they searched for their abundance of toys to put away.
“Thought you two must have arrived,” Anne sounded exhausted. Ominis’s heart immediately ripped in two. He hadn’t heard her voice so raspy since they were teens. Anne had mostly healed from her curse. At around the ten-year mark, she decided she wanted to try for a child. She and her husband were happy and head over heels in love. They just wanted one child to share the love with. The risk was great with Anne’s past, but she didn’t want some retched curse to stop her from living her life the way she dreamed.
“And it was a good thing we did. Sebastian’s kids were terrorizing your home.”
Anne laughed at that, though it was quiet and airy. “They are just playing, Ominis. That’s why kids do. Not a dull day around here lately, that’s for sure.”
“Still, I’m sure you could rest better if it was quiet.” Ominis took a step to the right, meaning to meet her at her bedside.
“Wait-,” Anne croaked out, causing Ominis to freeze. “The bassinet is on this side. Come around to the other.”
Oh, right. Ominis swallowed thickly. He had forgotten about Anne’s baby for a moment. The room was so peaceful. It was hard to believe a child was in here with them. “Right, sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Min,” Anne reassured as Ominis walked around to the other side of the bed. “Just didn’t want to bump into it and wake her. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” Which was Anne’s way of gently warning him that the baby was probably going to cry for food soon that way he didn’t panic when he heard it.
Ominis cautiously sat on the side of Anne’s bed and asked, “Anything I can get for you? I’m here to look out for you, and Y/N is going to look out for the baby once she feeds Sebastian and the kids and sends them home.”
“Honestly, I was dying of boredom before you came in. Just you being here is enough.” Anne placed her hand over Ominis’s and squeezed. “And how is my Y/N doing? How’s the shop coming along?”
There was a thankful sigh of relief from Ominis’s lips at the subject change. He could talk about you and the shop for hours. “We’re loving it. She put me to work though with all the upkeep. I’m regretting cutting back my hours at the Ministry. At least they didn’t make me sweep.”
Anne’s soft chuckle sounded much closer to her normal self this time. Ominis let some of the tension in his shoulders release from knowing Anne wasn’t feeling too much pain at the moment.
“You know, they would take you back full-time in a heartbeat if you offered.”
“No, no,” Ominis quickly backtracked with a smile, “No, trust me, being at the shop is a walk in the park in comparison to the Ministry’s paperwork. The half of my week there is like a vacation. Besides, it’s right next door to the house. No travel sickness. And the greenhouse smells lovely. Much better to work in than those dingy offices.”
“Hey now, don’t talk bad on those dingy offices. I can’t wait to get back to them in a few weeks. I’ve already planned on how to reorganize mine. Bit of spring cleaning.”
Whatever was going on with Anne, Ominis had assumed it was to do with the curse. Hearing her so confidently say she would be back to work soon made Ominis tilt his head in confusion. Was she being her stubborn self, or were things not as bad as Sebastian’s letter made it seem. It was always hard to tell with the twins. Anne played everything off as fine, but Sebastian acted like Anne’s paper cuts were life-threatening.
“Planning to get back there so soon? Well, don’t strain yourself. The office will still be just as meek and dusty no matter how long you wait.”
“Suppose so. Might be nice to spend some extra time just with her.” Ominis couldn’t see it, of course, but he knew Anne was referring to the baby in the bassinet on the other side of the bed.
There was a soft knock on the door, and with Anne’s approval, you cracked the door open just enough to peek your head in. “Up for a few visitors? The kids want to say goodbye one by one. I’m including Sebastian in that category too, of course.”
“Hey!” Could slightly be heard from the hallway.
Then, one at a time, you allowed the kids to give their Auntie Anne a kiss goodbye. Lastly, Sebastian went in with his youngest in his arms. Anne chuckled at the red stains on the baby’s hands and shirt from the strawberries. She could picture how it probably mashed the berry in its hand before shoving it in its mouth and likely missing its mouth entirely so that the strawberry ended up mostly on the ground. Her heart tinged a bit. She wished she could have joined them for lunch and not been forced to stay in her tiny bedroom.
“Get some rest,” Sebastian mumbled as he kissed her forehead.
“You too,” Anne replied. “Thank you for looking out for me these past couple of days, but go home and relax. Ominis and Y/N will take good care of us here.”
Then Ominis felt a hand on his shoulder. By the way it lightly massaged him, he instantly knew it was his wife. She leaned in close to whisper to him, “I’m going to walk Seb and the kids home to make sure none of them wander off. They’re a bit ornery today. Will you be okay without me?”
A pang of guilt stabbed him in the stomach. Ominis hated that he was the one you were worried about leaving while Anne was quite literally bedridden. It was embarrassing that you felt as though you needed to check in with him before taking a quick walk just a few houses down to Sebastian’s place. His…affinity to kids was bad, he knew that, he knew that you knew that and that’s why you were being overly protective. Still, it hurt his ego just a bit.
“Take your time. We’ll be okay here,” Ominis whispered back, trying his best not to sound short. If there was any uneasiness in his tone, he knew you would drop everything to comfort him. That couldn’t happen now. Sebastian might have needed your help walking the kids back, but Ominis knew that it was partially an excuse on your part to spend more time with them. He didn’t want to take that from you.
The baby, well, Anne’s baby was sleeping anyway. Sebastian’s was blowing raspberries while Anne was cooing a goodbye to it.
He waited until he heard the front door close to admit to Anne, “You asked how she’s doing… I don’t think she’s happy.”
“With the store?” There was a hint of terror in her voice as if Anne feared it was something worse.
After a moment of silence, Ominis shook his head no. “I can tell she wants more. She grew up in a big family and then Hogwarts was always just as loud and chaotic. At first, I think she appreciated the peace and quiet after we got our house, but lately… Lately, I wake up in the middle of the night and she’s gone. She goes and falls asleep by the gramophone in the living room as if she needs the noise for comfort.”
A gentle hand touched his shoulder as Anne said, “Oh, Ominis…”
“I think she would be happier if she were with someone that could provide what she wanted, but she’d never admit that.”
“No, she wouldn’t. I know you can’t see the way she looks at you, but you’re her world. Don’t ever even suggest such a thing to her. It would shatter her. She is happy with you, just you. We’ve talked about it before, she and I. She is content with being an aunt to Sebastian’s kids, and now my girl. Please don’t worry over this in the slightest.”
Anne’s comfort eased his pain, but the guilt of it all still weighed him down. They chatted for a while about Sebastian’s wife and her exciting job until you made it back to the house. You leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and listened to the two old friends talk for a while before interrupting, “Do you want to have a bath while I change your sheets for you, Anne?”
“Is that your way of saying I smell?”
“Your hair is a bit of a mess,” you joked as you walked up to her side of the bed and gently moved the bassinet so that you could help Anne up.
At the sound of shuffling and Anne wincing, Ominis offered, “Do you want me to-“
“It’s alright,” you said, suspiciously quick. “Us girls have got this. I’ll just set Anne up in the bath. Do you want to start removing the blankets?”
Ominis stood from the bed and started to remove the covers at your request, albeit a bit reluctantly due to his confusion and frustration. Why didn’t you let him carry Anne to the bathroom? It wasn’t like the intimacy mattered. He couldn’t see.
Wordlessly, he carried the laundry to the back porch and then felt through the linen closet for another set. The two of you met back in Anne’s room at the same time. You kissed his cheek and took the fitted sheet from him to start unfolding it. That was the only covering you managed to get on before the baby stirred in the bassinet. It started to cry out, loud and demanding. Ominis flinched and clutched the blanket he was holding while you scooped the baby up in your arms.
“Oh, that sounds like a hungry cry,” Your voice was soft and unfazed by the cries. “Come on. To the kitchen, we go. I’m going to show your Uncle Omi how to make a bottle for you.”
Ominis tensed at that. “Why? I thought we agreed that I take care of Anne and you take care of…her.”
“If we really are going to be here the next few days helping out, you might as well learn.” You didn’t say anything more as you headed to the kitchen. It was up to Ominis whether or not he followed.
And follow he did with a heavy sigh. Anne’s kitchen was far more spacious than your own. He still hadn’t mapped out where everything was since it all seemed to spread apart. There was even room under the south-facing window for a breakfast nook area that had the perfect view of Feldcroft. You stared out at it wistfully. Down the way a bit, you could make out Sebastian’s two oldest digging away in their front yard. They had told you on the walk back that they had been trying to dig to the center of the earth. You had laughed and told them they would need a pretty long ladder, but you didn’t discourage their determination.
“Do you want to hold her while I grab the-“
“Just tell me where it is,” Ominis insisted, sounding a bit exasperated. His heated tone made you giggle. When you first met him, he used to always be on edge like this. There was a cold exterior about him that was snappy and sarcastic. In his defense, Sebastian was putting him through a lot at the time with his unforgiving plight to find a cure for Anne. But you didn’t mind it then just like you didn’t mind it now. Ominis was complicated, and that’s what drew you in.
“A step forward and to your left. Should be a cylinder tin on the second shelf of the cupboard.” Your direction was easy to understand and deeply appreciated.
Sometimes at work with the Ministry, Ominis would ask something like, “Which one?” Only for his coworker to inevitably reply something stupid like, “The green one.” He never had to prod you for more information. If only he could bring you everywhere to direct him like this. Though, maybe not while you held a crying baby in your arms.
“I’m putting an empty bottle right beside the tin here. But first, we need to set up the kettle.”
“Are we making tea for Anne?” This he was familiar with even in Anne’s kitchen. Ominis made quick work of taking the kettle from the stove and filling it in the sink.
“Just heating up the water a bit. Not too hot. I’ll show you how to check the temperature after we’re done. While that’s heating, you can measure the power. There should already be a scooper in the tin. Two scoops should be plenty. She’s still so tiny.” You took a moment to admire the baby girl in your arms. She really was the spitting image of Anne.
While you rocked her to soothe her cries, Ominis poured two scoops of the formula into the bottle and tried not to grimace at the sour smell of it. Now he understood why babies smelled the way they did. It was a mix of this awful powdered milk and the starchiness of baby powder. Very off-putting and unpleasant.
“Water should be warm enough now. I’ll tell you when to stop pouring. Go slow,” you directed. You stopped him just at just a quarter full and reached to touch the bottle to feel how hot the water was. “Just a splash of cold water and that should be perfect.” Ominis brought the bottle to the sink and literally just let the smallest splash into it. You giggled and prompted, “Okay, maybe two splashes.”
Next, you handed him a clean top for the bottle which he took a moment to stir on straight then asked, “Are we done here?” in a very bored tone.
You smiled as you shook your head and clicked your tongue. “Always so impatient, my love. The powder needs to be mixed in. You’ll have to shake the bottle and-“ Ominis started shaking the bottle immediately, wanting to get this over with. Formula sprayed out of the nipple and got on the kitchen floor, Ominis’s hair, and your face. He froze, realizing his mistake.
Your laughter was so intense that you doubled over, clutching the baby to your chest so that you wouldn’t drop her during your fit. Ominis was blushing, but the sound of your laughter made him smile sheepishly.
“I am an idiot,” he proclaimed.
“Yes, yes your are. You have to cover the tip of the nipple.”
“Excuse me?” Ominis sounded almost offended. You laughed harder, not being able to take much more of this.
“That’s what the rubber part of the top of the bottle is called! It’s not like I came up with it!” After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you reached over and placed Ominis’s finger over the tip of the bottle. “Okay, now you can shake it without making it rain indoors.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled shyly.
“I love you,” you answered.
Once the formula was mixed up, it was time to test the temperature. “This part is simple. Hold out your wrist,” you told him. When he did, you guided his hand that was holding the bottle to dab the slightest bit of formula on his inner wrist. “Do you feel that?”
A flash of uncertainty washed over his features. “Yes, but how do I know if it’s right?”
You held out your wrist, lighting bumping it to his so he knew where you were. “Let me feel and I’ll tell you.”
The fingers of his free hand drifted across the palm of your open one, acting as if he wasn’t sure where your wrist was. You had a smug smile knowing it was all for show. You had made your movements very clear. He only wanted to touch your hand, but you weren’t about to call him out on that. The bottle dipped to let a drip fall on your wrist. It was like warm. Not too cold that the powder didn’t mix in properly, and not too hot that it would hurt the baby.
“This is perfect. You want to test it on your wrist again so you can remember this temperature for next time?”
He snorted and insisted there wouldn’t be a next time, but he tested the formula on his wrist once more and looked rather deep in thought as if trying to memorize the feeling. You kissed his cheek and thanked him while taking the bottle. A weight lifted off Ominis’s shoulders when the baby stopped crying in your arms. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Glad that’s over.”
“Well, get used to it because it’ll probably happen every four hours or so.”
That statement did not spark joy for Ominis, but you hadn’t been trying to. It was the truth. This was the reality of helping out Anne right now: a crying newborn.
“Let’s go check on Anne in the bath.” Now that was a statement Ominis didn’t mind. You followed him down the hallway and stood at his side while he knocked on the bathroom door.
“How are you doing, Annie?” He asked in a soft tone.
“Just fine, Min! I’ll be getting out soon. How’s the baby?”
“Ominis made her a bottle!” You cut in proudly.
Anne paused a moment then asked, “‘S it poisoned?”
Ominis rolled his eyes while you responded, “No! I watched him like a hawk. I promise! He did great!”
Anne’s laughter echoed in the bathroom. “Well, then thank you, Ominis!”
In the living room, you nestled in on the couch, using the armrest to support your elbow. Holding the baby in the kitchen that whole time had made you ache. She wasn’t heavy either, maybe six pounds at the most. You couldn’t fathom how Sebastian held his youngest all day. That baby was huge!
“Anything I can get you?” Ominis was hovering over you from behind the couch. His hand was resting on the back of it and his fingers were reaching up to brush your shoulder. It was clear he wanted to touch you, but you were holding a baby and that terrified him.
“Maybe turn on a bit of music? There’s a very fancy-looking phonograph sitting in the far corner on your left. It’s begging to be played.”
Your wish seemed to be his command. Ominis brought out his wand and used his sensing charm before pointing it precisely at the phonograph. The needle reset itself on the record and began to play a beautiful sonata. It started out with a feathery light piano that was quickly joined by a set of strings. You weren’t well versed enough in muggle music to know if it was a violin or cello, but its tender tones took the lead of the song while the piano supported the beat and background. There was just a hint of a wind instrument harmonizing with the main melody of the strings. It wasn’t prominent enough to tell if it was a flute, or perhaps a panpipe…
“Come sit by me,” you requested dreamily.
With the music and the airy sound of your voice, Ominis was lost in the moment. He kissed the top of your head then walked around the front of the couch to be next to you. The string instrument started to swell. His hand rested on your knee as he sat down and immediately inched higher and higher until his forearm bumped your elbow and he briefly wondered why your elbow was sticking out like that.
Reality came hurtling back like a bludger. His hand jolted off you as if your skin burned him. He had forgotten about the baby being fed in your arms.
Ominis hoped you hadn’t even noticed his slip up, that you were too lost in feeding the child. With the way you were talking to it, Ominis felt as though he was in the clear. You were commenting on how the baby’s hand was curling around your ring finger. It seemed to like the smooth texture of your wedding band.
“You trying to steal my ring, little one? Four days old and your mommy has already trained you to be her little niffler? Well, I’m very sorry. You can’t have my wedding ring. I love it too much. You can have your own if you choose to get married one day.”
“Anna and Sebastian are probably competing to see who can have the most mischievous child,” Ominis said mostly to himself since he assumed you were lost in your own little world.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” you joked in return. “And you can put your hand on my thigh if you would like. It is not going to offend the baby.”
Sometimes he hated how in tune you were with him. Ominis put a hand back just below your knee and squeezed to show his annoyance with you, a move he often did to fluster you and keep your teasing mouth quiet.
The move was not working out in his favor while you were holding the baby, however. You gossiped to her, “Oh, Uncle Ominis is mad at me for some reason. I’m in such big trouble. He’s got the grumpy pout. I think he’s feeling a bit bashful that I called him out, what do you think?”
A loud thud sounded from the bathroom. Ominis was standing in a flash. You dropped the bottle beside you on the couch to grab him by the shirt, insisting, “You take the baby! I’ll go get her!”
A look of annoyance washed over Ominis's face and he defied your request, “Are you insane? Just let me-“
“She’s going to want it to be me, not you.”
For the first time since your school days, he bitterly reminded you, “I’m blind! It’s not like I’ll see anything!”
You were standing now, matching his volume. “She’ll just want a woman there that understands-“
“I’ve known her a lot longer than you have! She’s a sister to me, I understand her perfectly! She-“
“She’s still bleeding,” you whispered through your teeth, “You know, down there. That’s why she’s been on bed rest. They had to give her muggle stitches.”
Ominis paled and swallowed quickly. He had assumed Anne was hurting from the curse. The last thing on his mind was average birthing complications. “Oh.”
“Sit down on the couch and put your elbow on the armrest,” you insisted in a very angry tone that you only ever used on Sebastian when he was stepping out of line, which was very, very rare these days. Hearing you so angry sent a shiver down Ominis’s spine. He sat, but panic was bubbling to his surface when he realized why you told him to put his elbow on the armrest.
“My love, please, I’m sorry, I can’t- Don’t make me-“
“It’s a newborn, Ominis! She isn’t going to remember this moment! You can’t possibly do anything wrong. Just feed her the rest of the bottle!” Your screaming made Ominis snap his mouth shut.
You leaned down and put the baby, who was now crying from her bottle being ripped from her and all the commotion, into his arms with a gentleness that shocked Ominis. How you went from screaming at him to carefully making sure the baby’s head was supported on his arm just right, he would never know. The bottle was picked up from where it had rolled to the other side of the couch and put firmly in Ominis’s hand with a bit more fire to your placement this time around.
“Feed her. She can’t cry if there is a bottle in her mouth. Relax your shoulders. I’ll only be gone a minute.”
Then your footsteps were fading. Ominis couldn’t stop his entire body from shaking. The baby was still crying, and although the only other sound in the house was the soft piano and strings coming from the phonograph, Ominis was overwhelmed to the point of shock. The baby weighed in his arms, but not nearly as much as he expected it to. He had held Sebastian’s firstborn twice: once when it was a month old and then one other time when it had just started crawling. Sebastian’s baby was never as feather-light as the dainty little thing crying in his arms now. It didn’t even stretch across Ominis’s chest. Tiny little feet were kicking his right arm that had been white-knuckling the bottle. They were covered in fuzzy knit socks that felt soft and plush against his arm with each weak kick.
The baby seemed to kick some sense into Ominis because he realized it would stop crying if he would just hurry up and give it the bottle. At first, he tried placing it in the baby’s flailing hands, but it wouldn’t take it from him. Was holding a bottle not something babies could do for themselves? He was pretty sure Sebastian was able to hand his youngest a bottle and walk away. Why didn’t this one know what to do?!
Ominis was ready to give up, but he didn’t know how to move the baby properly or where to put it even if he had the nerve. The couch? Would it roll off? The floor? Surely that wasn’t appropriate.
“Fine! Fine,” Ominis grumbled. He set the bottle between his legs and then hesitantly touched the baby's chest and glided up to feel where its mouth was. The thing was so tiny, and even though Ominis was holding it, he still expected it to take longer to find its mouth. But before he could pull away, the baby sucked his pointer finger in and bit down. It might have not had any teeth, but its gums were still brutal!
“Ow!” Ominis hissed and yanked his finger away from the little gremlin. He shook his hand with a dramatic flair to lessen the hurt. The baby went right back to crying. “That was uncalled for.”
Finally, Ominis was able to get the bottle in the baby’s mouth. There was an annoying squeak from it sucking on the rubber, but other than that the living room had turned back to its peaceful state. The record on the phonograph was playing a more upbeat tune. All was well.
Meanwhile, you had sprinted into the bathroom panicked and breathing heavily. Anne was lying on her back near the sink, about a meter from the tub.
“Anne!” You gasped and hurried over to her.
“Oh, hey,” Anne laughed lightly, not acting injured in the slightest. “How was your domestic disagreement? I have never heard you two argue like that. It was quite entertaining.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Mostly just embarrassed. I slipped while I was brushing my teeth. Wasn’t even walking or anything, just tumbled over for no reason. Held onto the sink though, so it wasn’t too bad.”
“You need help up?”
“Yeah. My hip is pretty sore, as if it wasn’t bad enough down there already,” Anne always kept a light tone to not worry others. You understood the sentiment. She didn’t want to be treated like a child or hovered over. Sebastian used to do that to her constantly, he had gotten a lot calmer over the years, but Anne hadn’t learned to get rid of her coping mechanisms yet.
“Let me dry the floor then I’ll help you up. Looks like a hurricane happened in here. Were you playing with the bath bubbles?” You joked to put her at ease.
She sighed gratefully for your calm nature. “Maybe. It had been a while since I’ve had a bubble bath. Might have got a bit carried away.”
You dramatically dragged a towel along the floor at the edge of the tub and asked, “A bit?”
It took some patience, but you managed to get Anne to her bed. There was still only the fitted sheet in place, so you added the bedding around her and made a point to tuck her in so tight that she couldn’t even wiggle. She shoved your hands away, laughing at your antics. The two of you chatted for a bit about your new plant shop and whether or not you missed working at the Ministry.
In the living room, the light squeaking of the bottle stopped. Ominis frowned in confusion. He could feel that there was still a bit of liquid sloshing around in the glass. Would the baby start crying again? Why had it stopped eating? Fearing the worst, he set the bottle down on the couch beside him and then leaned his ear in close to make sure the baby was still breathing. He placed his hand over its chest to feel the rise and fall. The tip of his middle finger touched its chin and the bottom of his hand was over its stomach. How could something be so small?
The baby’s hands latched onto his, one grabbing his thumb and the other his pinky, holding Ominis against its chest. Ominis blushed at the contact. The hands were soft and oh, so tiny. It could hardly clasp his thumb properly. Its breathing started to slow. The record on the phonograph came to an end, leaving a soft scratching sound to fill the room.
“Alright then,” his voice was but a whisper so that he wouldn’t disrupt the tranquil atmosphere of the room. Having his hand cradled like that made his heart clench tightly and painfully. The baby’s little cotton clothes were slightly wet around its neck from the formula, but other than that, Ominis didn’t mind that his hand was trapped.
His own breathing started to slow for the first time since arriving at Anne’s place.
A few moments later, you had been sent by Anne to collect her child. She wanted to snuggle with the baby while they both had a nap. The fiasco in the bathroom had worn her out.
The last thing you expected to see was a soft smile on Ominis’s lips while he seemed to be resting. The baby was pulled in close to his chest and was clutching into Ominis’s hand. They both looked fast asleep. The sight filled you with warmth. Your eyes softened, and you nearly wanted to shed a tear. Instead of disrupting them right away, you turned off the phonograph that had been playing nothing and washed the unfinished bottle in the kitchen sink.
When it came time to finally collect the baby from Ominis, you felt slightly guilty for dragging it out for so long. He just looked so precious holding a child. It was doing things to you, making you yearn for things you had sworn off thinking about.
With the utmost care, you reached to scoop the baby out of Ominis’s arms. His left arm tightened around the child, drawing her closer to his chest.
“Don’t,” he whispered.
That was…odd. Was he talking in his sleep? You couldn’t recall Ominis ever doing such a thing.
“It’s just me, love. I’ve come to relieve you from your babysitting duties. Sorry it took me so long.”
You tried going in for the exchange again, but Ominis insisted, “Just another moment, please. Just one moment.” His voice was breaking. It was clear now he hadn’t been sleeping at all to begin with because a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. It had been quite some time since you had seen Ominis in such a fragile state. When he would open up about his family and his childhood, sometimes he would get quiet like this. In those times, he had held onto you like you were driftwood in an ocean of terror he was drowning in. The way he was cradling the baby so close to his chest now meant he was anchoring to her at this moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to take her from him, even if the baby’s young mother was wanting to see her.
The only thing you could do was sit beside him on the couch. Your head rested on his shoulder and your hand rubbed in soft patterns across his arm. A few moments later, you had to tell him, “Anne sent me to collect the baby.”
Ominis nodded and softly said, “We shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer then. You can- you can take her now.”
There was a tense static in the room. The last thing you wanted to do was end this moment. Even with Sebastian’s for at born, Ominis had never asked to hold them, let alone hold them longer the few times he had been forced to.
“Why don’t you just carry her to the bedroom for me, hm?”
That was not what Ominis wanted to hear. His eyes widened with fear. “I can’t I- I don’t know how to.”
“It’ll be alright,” you were already adjusting his left arm so that he was providing better support underneath her as you spoke, “Just support her bum here. You can use your other arm too if you’re unsure. Just bring that one to cover here and- There. Now you’ve got a very good hold on her. After you get up from the couch just put it right back there where I showed you. I’ll lead you to the bedroom. Come along, now.”
Before he had time to come up with an excuse, you were dragging him up from the couch and guiding him to Anne’s room. Usually, he hated being guided places unless the situation was dire or he was in a big crowd. Sometimes people at work would try and guide from around the building. He took a bit of offense to it. If he ever needed a guide, he could just use his wand!
But now he was holding this tiny little thing in his arms, and it was alive and depending on him not to trip or bump into something. Without fighting it, Ominis let you hold his elbow and guide him across Anne’s house to the master bedroom. You had him sit in an armchair in the corner of the room as you joked with Anne, “You said, ‘Bring the baby’, and I wasn’t sure which one so naturally… I brought both.”
“You two look good like that. With her,” Anne commented as you put your hand on Ominis’s shoulder.
You were thankful Ominis couldn’t see your flush or the warning look you gave Anne. Around Ominis, you tried your hardest to avoid the topic of starting a family of your own. Your mother mentioned it every time the two of you visited her. She wanted grandkids. Usually, Anne and Sebastian were safe to converse with because they knew Ominis as well as you did. A comment like that almost felt out of character for Anne, especially since she was so protective of Ominis.
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Ominis replied smoothly.
“Have you burped her yet?”
“Have I what?”
You laughed and patted Ominis on the shoulder. “That can get messy. Why don’t we let Anne do that, hm?”
“I can do it,” he offered quickly. “Just tell me how, and I can do it.”
You draped a towel over his shoulder and directed him to lay the baby against it. It didn’t take long to burp her. Ominis winced at the wet gurgling by his ear and the pungent, sour smell of the formula coming back tenfold. You giggled at his reaction and seemed to be cleaning up the baby’s face so that Ominis could go back to snuggling her.
“I’m glad you two are getting along. I’d hoped you would. After all, she’s named after you.”
A beat of silence dragged by before Ominis was able to ask, “What?”
“My little Minnie. Cute, don’t you think?” Anne smiled softly. “You were always there for me when Sebastian and I had our falling out. I appreciate you and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me.”
“Minnie is such a sweet name,” you commented once you realized Ominis was too stunned to respond. “Perfect for this sweet little girl.”
A couple of hours went by while you and Anne chatted. Ominis didn’t move from the armchair with Minnie and never once complained about his arm going numb from holding her.
Went you stood up so go start something for dinner, an Apparation crack sounded from outside. All three of you were alert and tense, wondering who it could be. You brought out your wand and headed to the front door, but it burst open before you had the chance to get there.
“Anne?!” The desperate cry of her husband called through the house. His heavy footsteps sprinted for the bedroom. Blood and scrapes littered his face and his hair and clothes were in disarray and even looked a bit singed. “Are you alright?” He raced to embrace her.
“You’ll have to give her up now, my love,” you whispered in Ominis’s ear while Anne and her husband reunited.
With a heavy sigh, Ominis stood from the armchair and approached the side of the bed Anne’s husband was standing on. He tearfully took Minnie from Ominis then looked at Anne in disbelief.
“She looks just like you.”
Sebastian’s wife was standing in the entryway, looking just as disheveled as Anne’s husband. While you and Ominis left the bedroom to give the new family some privacy, Sebastian’s wife explained, “There was a dragon attack that led to a cave-in. He was trapped for nearly a week.”
“Lucky you were able to find him. You’re amazing, honestly. Are you okay? Do you need anything? The both of you look like you got in a fistfight with the dragon!” You told her.
“Nearly did! Its tail swung at me at one point. It’s been an eventful day. All that’s on my mind is getting home to the kids and Sebastian.”
“We’ll be heading home as well, I think. Stay safe.”
With her gone, you cleaned up a few things around Anne’s house. Ominis tagged along on your cleaning spree, but he was nearly silent while doing so. You worried today might have been too much for him, but you would decide you would wait to check on him until after getting him to the comfort of your own home.
“You can floo first, Ominis! I’ll be right behind you. I’m just going to throw this blanket in the laundry bin.”
He was gone in a smokey, green flash. As promised, you traveled just a moment later. You hardly had a second to focus on the blur of your living room before a pair of hands were haphazardly dragging you forward until a rather demanding set of lips landed over yours. In his defense, Ominis had warned you earlier that day that he would be taking his stress out on you.
“What a lovely welcome home,” you comment when he pulls away, thinking it would end there.
His voice was a bit raspy in your ear, “Tell me what you’ve been wanting, and I’ll give it to you.” And although the sound of his voice was arousing, you could tell he wasn’t talking about anything sexual. There was a pointed annoyance in his tone. The unspoken dream you’ve been trying to keep to yourself secret all these years seemed to be weighing down on the both of you.
“Ominis, I don’t expect that of you. Is this because of what Anne said about us looking good with a baby? She was only teasing, Ominis. You know I would never ask that if you.”
Lips started to trail down your neck, tasting you. Between kisses, Ominis was whispering, “So good to me. Trying to hide her desires. It’s okay. I want it too.”
“What do you mean?” You managed out between gasps. His hands were exploring every inch of your body as if he didn’t already have you memorized. It took all of your willpower to restrain yourself and pull away from him because he seemed as though he was going to continue on without clarifying if you weren’t going to make him.
He groaned as if he was the one losing out on pleasure by you pulling away. “Want it too. Wanna give you a baby,” he whined softly. The words shocked you enough that your hold weakened. Ominis took the opportunity to lean back in, but you put your hands on his shoulders to hold him at bay.
“I think you caught an illness while at Anne’s,” you say in a worried tone. The back of your fingers pressed to his forehead. “Yup, just as I suspected. You have a bad case of baby fever. I think a good night's rest will be just the cure.”
Rolling his eyes at your antics, Ominis insisted, “I’ve thought about this before, and I know you want one. I don’t need sight to know how you feel about Sebastian’s kids. You are always coming up with excuses to be with them longer. It’s okay. I’m not going to be angry if you admit it. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I’m happy with you. I don’t need anything more. I would never ask for anything more.”
Ominis rested his forehead against yours. “I know you would never dare to ask. That’s why I’m offering.”
“And you’ll regret offering such things in the morning,” you reminded him.
“No, I won’t.”
“I know holding Minnie was overwhelming for you, but don’t let those new emotions cloud your judgment. You’ve never wanted kids before this. Just think for a moment and-“
“I have thought about it, many times. Maybe I’ve been apprehensive to the idea, but that was before. I thought it wasn’t possible for me to connect with children, that I wouldn’t be able to care for them the way a parent should. I thought I’d be cold and distant like my parents, so I didn’t want to bring a child into this world for them to feel alone and unwanted. But now, with her, I was able to care, to- to…”
“To love?” you offered
“Please say you believe me,” he sounded so lost and broken.
Your hands cupped his cheeks as you wiped away his tears of frustration. “I believe you. I never doubted that you wouldn’t be able to love our child if we had one. I just assumed you didn’t dare to let yourself try because of your parents. I love you, Ominis. Of course I want to have your children. I want them to be just as stubborn, but just as caring as you. I want them to have your sarcastic wit but also your devoted loyalty. It’s something I’ve thought about endlessly, so don’t think I’m turning you down when I ask for you to think on it just a while longer. Let the emotions from today come back down. I’ll make us dinner, we’ll go to bed. Then, whenever you are ready to talk about this, we will.”
Ominis managed to look disappointed but grateful at the same time. “I’ll think on it.”
And think on it he did, or simmer was a closer description. While you were in the kitchen, he pretended to read with his wand. There was a moment of uncertainty when he thought about how holding Minnie had made him feel. Would he be able to connect like that with his own child? But then again, how could he not? His own child would be half you, and he loved every part of you, even the side of you that thought you knew what was best for him by making him sit with his thoughts.
After a while, you brought him a cup of tea and kissed his temple. Ominis mumbled a thank you and continued to pretend to read. He could tell by the way you lingered in the doorway as you left the living room that you had used the tea as an excuse to check in on him. Instead of clueing you into his thoughts, he remained aloof and sipped his tea without showing any emotion positive or negative. The last thing he wanted was to hear you ramble about how he wasn’t in the right headspace to know what he truly wanted.
What he wanted was to be buried deep in you as he came. He wanted to, for once, not ruin his adrenaline rush by pulling out at the last second. He wanted you to have his child. He wanted a family with you, and he didn’t want to waste another second before starting it. This was something he should have done years ago.
“Dinner is ready,” you announced. There was a tremor in your voice as though you were nervous to speak to him. You spent the last thirty minutes hiding in the kitchen and wondering if he was cross with you since he hardly spoke at all when you brought him tea.
“It smells lovely in here.” Ominis played along with you, pretending not to notice your slip-up.
“Thank you. What were you reading?”
“A book that Sebastian’s wife recommended about keeping dragons.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“It is.”
And that was all you got out of him. Ominis finished his food before you then disappeared to the kitchen to do the dishes while you sat in silence at the dining table. The wine wasn’t strong enough to keep your mind from worrying. How long would things be like this? Usually, Ominis was easy to get through to, so your arguments never lasted long. Would this remain an unspoken thing in your marriage for years to come? Forever?
You tiptoed into the kitchen with your empty plate. Ominis had done most of the dishes except for a single pan and the plate and fork in your hands. Even though you were trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Ominis held his open hand out in your direction and said, “Your plate.”
Reluctantly, you handed him the dirty dish. “Thank you for cleaning.”
“You cooked, so I cleaned. No reason to thank me. It’s only fair.”
“You’re right,” you whispered quietly.
Ominis raised his brow. “What? No comeback? No telling me how wrong I am for not accepting your gratitude? No making me think about it before I decide I want to do the dishes?”
“So you are mad at me!” You said it like it was an accusation. “I knew it. You’re being ridiculous! I’m only asking you to think on this before you decide!”
“You think I haven’t thought about it? Nearly ten years of marriage and you don’t think I fantasize about what it would feel like to hold you while my child is growing inside you?” He dried his hands on a dishrag and then leaned against the counter, looking exasperated. His volume hadn’t matched yours yet. He was holding back.
“You don’t have to do this just because it’s something I want!”
“Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I don’t want it too!” His yell seemed to echo in the tiny kitchen.
After a second of trying to remind yourself how to breathe, you felt horrible for letting it escalate so far. Hearing Ominis was scared just made you want to comfort him. You spoke softly, “Ominis-“
“No, don’t do that. Don’t pity me and try to comfort me. Don’t use that as an excuse for us not to do this. Either you want us to have a child, or you don’t. I need you to be fully in on this as well. I’ll need you to show me how to make a bottle a few more times, how to change a diaper, and how to hold them properly. I need you to be patient with me, but I don’t want you to pity me. Is that understood?”
“I understand.” His words started to sink in. He seemed satisfied with your agreeability and turned back to the sink to finish the last two dishes. When the water cut off, you were still frozen in the center of your kitchen and trying to figure out if this was all real or a fever dream.
Ominis was humming a melody that had been playing earlier on Anne’s phonograph as he put away the pan he cleaned last. When he passed you by, a hand reached out to touch you. It dragged across your stomach to your hip and squeezed.
“If you are feeling against the idea any sort of way, now might be your last chance to speak up,” he warned, “I won’t be able to hold back tonight with this on my mind.”
“Don’t hold back-“ Was all he needed to hear before you were backed up against the kitchen counter with his lips how and heavy on yours. His approach was usually far more gentle. The two of you could kiss for hours before he’d even cop a feel. Now his hands were unbuttoning your clothes at your waistline and tugging the fabric down with haste.
This is what you’ve been dreaming of. Only a handful of times had Ominis ever devoured you in such a way. Things were more heated when the two of you were younger, exploring each other, and having uncontrollable urges. Since marriage, Ominis had calmed in that sense. You lived together, so he had the ability to take his time and appreciate every inch of you. It was always about bringing you pleasure as many times as the night would allow. Tonight was a stark contrast to those gentle touches.
Before you knew it, he had your panties around your ankles and was telling you to sit on the counter that he had just cleaned. You hopped up as told, but your position still didn’t have his approval. His fingers hooked under your knees and yanked so that your ass slid across the counter until it was nearly hanging off the edge. He smirked at the feeling of your heated core bumping into his dress pants.
“Right there. Stay right there on the edge for me.” And then he was sinking to his knees. His hands held your inner thighs to keep you from trying to close them, not that you would have.
His mouth was everywhere except the one place you wanted it so desperately. Your clit ached for attention. It seemed like Ominis would be taking his sweet time with you after all. This was usually welcomed attention, but tonight, you wanted him inside you more than anything. You didn’t even need to finish yourself as long as he spilled inside of you.
But even though your mind didn’t need an orgasm, that didn’t mean your body wasn’t craving it. Your hips bucked slightly when his nose nearly brushed against your clit. His hands held you down on the counter as he chuckled. The vibration of his laugh made you quiver.
“Don’t fall off the counter, now. Twisting your ankle won’t get you out of taking my cock. I’d just lay you on the bed and elevate your foot with pillows before filling you up.”
“Ominis,” your voice came out like you were scolding him. He’s spoken dirty before, but never quite like that.
“Just today you admitted in this very kitchen that you push my buttons on purpose to get me to snap and bite you, yet I’m the one being told off. And for what? Making sure my wife’s hypothetical, hurt ankle would be taken care of before I give her the child she so desperately wants?”
“I- oh-,” You lost your train of thought as his lips brushed against your clit before taking it in his mouth and sucking. The feeling was too much after waiting for so long. You squirmed again, this time to get away. The feeling in the pit of your stomach always felt better releasing when things had been slow and steady. Now, you could feel the tension building alarmingly fast.
Ominis took your hips trying to move as a sign of your eagerness. His tongue lapped up your wetness that had started to seep out. Then, it dipped inside of you and his nose rubbed against your clit. Your hands were gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself from flying off.
Now you were saying his name like a prayer. Your breathy pleas were quite the opposite from how you had just scolded him a few moments ago. Hearing you pant and mumble his name made him smirk. You could feel the corner of his mouth rise slightly against you. That action was enough to send you over the edge, almost literally if Ominis hadn’t been holding you in place on the counter. He kept his tongue in place to feel you pulse around it, though he was careful not to overstimulate you and ruin your high. Only when the pulsations slowed to nearly an end did he pull back and stand up.
“Such a good girl for me. Coming on my tongue and sounding so sweet.” He kissed you with the taste of your juices still on his tongue. You hadn’t even dared to let go of the counter while Ominis got to work unbuttoning his own pants. “Was gonna wait to have you in the bedroom, but I don’t think I can.” And then, he was lined up at your entrance and pushing in.
His movements were slow as he took you in an all consuming kiss to distract you from the stretch. Normally, you could handle whatever Ominis threw at you. This time, you were sitting nearly upright because of how close Ominis held your for the kiss. The position made it hard to take him fully, at least in an enjoyable way. You tried leaning back, and while that did help things start to feel pleasurable, your hand had landed in a stick of butter. The plate clanked against the counter. You immediately cursed under your breath.
Ominis, having heard the plate, had the audacity to laugh at your demise. He pulled out and scolded you, “You aren’t making a mess of my clean kitchen, are you?”
“It seems like you’ll have to wait until we get to the bedroom after all, and now I’ve got to wash my hand as well!”
His hands didn’t leave you the entire time you stood at the sink to try and scrub away the slimy mess on your hand. Even while walking down the hallway his hands were at work taking off your shirt and throwing it who knows where. Needless to say, you were both naked by the time you made it to the bedroom.
Vibrations ran down your neck from his voice mumbling while his lips were against your skin. “Lay on the bed.”
You had expected his hands to be all over you again the moment your back landed on the mattress. Instead, Ominis felt around for the pillows at the head of the bed. He tapped your hip. “Lift up.”
It was hard to deny his odd request because of how deeply you loved when he got a bit bossy like this. You lifted your bum so that he could slide a few pillows under you. The gesture seemed sweet, but entirely unnecessary. You’d been married for nearly nine years now, it wasn’t like you were delicate in the bedroom.
“You’re very sweet, my love, but I don’t need this to be comfortable. You won’t break me.”
Ominis stilled. His hand rested on your thigh. It looked as though he was debating something. “It’s not… for your comfort.”
“Then why are you- oh.” You swallowed your words when it set in. Your hips were high in the air like this. Gravity would make the mess Ominis was about to make stay inside you instead of seeping out.
“But are you comfortable like this?” Ominis ran his hand from your hip to your breast. His hand squeezing around you was faint and soft, more akin to a tender caress instead of anything overtly sexual.
“Yes,” you earnestly answered.
“You might have to stay like this for quite some time,” Ominis leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “Can you handle that?”
You nodded, then felt stupid before replying verbally, “I’m comfortable like this. I can stay as long as you think it’s necessary for it to… set in.”
His hand moved from your breast to lay over your heartbeat for a moment. A satisfied smirk spread across his lips. “Your heart is racing.”
“I might be a bit excited.”
“Oh yeah?” Both his hands smoothed down your body until they rested on your hips. He got on his knees between your legs. “Is that what people are calling it these days?” His thumb messily rubbed over your clit then dipped down between your folds to feel the sticky arousal that had been leaking out of you since the kitchen. There wasn’t much of a rhythm to his movements because he was just wetting his hand so that he could lubricate himself, but still, his hand touching you there in any capacity made your breathing pick up.
You were mumbling his name all desperate and breathy. Ominis chuckled at how needy you sounded. Giving you what you were begging for, he lined himself up, which caused you to whimper even more because his tip dragged across your clit a few times before he found your entrance. As he started to sink in, you sighed in relief. This angle was much better than sitting on the counter. With surprising ease, he nearly bottomed out. There was just a pinch of tightness that made him still for a moment.
His lips were leaving tender kisses across your chest and neck while he let you adjust to the feeling. You were mumbling into his neck for him to move, to take you. Your neediness made him want to give in to those desires, but Ominis wanted to memorize everything about this moment. The smell of sweat and sex in the air was absolutely vile, but incredibly mouthwatering all the same. He could go deeper than he ever had before at this angle, but that area felt tight around his tip. Ominis pulled out slightly and thrust back in slowly, being careful not to go too far and hurt you.
“More,” you were begging, nearly crying in the crook of his shoulder.
Not being able to deny you a second longer, Ominis started to thrust his hips. It wasn’t shallow, but he still wouldn’t let himself go further than the two of you were used to. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails lightly skimmed across his shoulders. He shivered and his hips stuttered unevenly, accidentally driving deeper into you. Immediately, Ominis pulled back and whispered an apology in your ear, but you held tighter onto him.
“Again, do it again.”
A tentative hand brushed the hair off your forehead so Ominis could kiss it. He pushed in deeper, but deliberately slow so he could listen for any signs of discomfort. His thumb found your clit again, hoping to give you a bit of pleasure to combat the fullness. The second his thumb grazed over you, your walls convulsed around his cock and your body shook erratically.
Ominis felt his own waves of pleasure building. On instinct, he tried to pull out to finish on your stomach. Your thighs wrapped around his waist to hold him in place.
“Please, come inside me. I want to make you a daddy.”
Your words made the tips of his ears go red. But now that he wasn’t so lost in the moment, he remembered the whole point of the evening, why he had made you rest your hips on a pile of pillows, and why he was able to reach this deep inside you in the first place.
���Stop me if it hurts,” was all the warning Ominis could give before his hips started to rut against you, hitting as deep as his length would allow with every feverish thrust. His pelvis was hitting your clit each time, Turning you right back into a moaning mess beneath him.
“There, right there.”
His breath was hot and heavy on your neck, “Gonna fill you up with my seed, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you just like this twice a day with your hips all high and willing to take me until we find out it worked. And then, I’m going to keep coming in you every night after to celebrate. I’ll fill you up so good, that we won’t know if it’s my come or my child growing in you that’s making you bigger.”
Talking dirty wasn’t new for Ominis, but it was rarely obscene and never, ever like this. That with how deep and fast he was fucking you made you speechless, breathless, thoughtless. You couldn’t even see straight, so you just held onto him for dear life and panted, but no breath was deep enough to fill your lungs or call you down. The tension in your entire body builds to the point that your leg was cramping. You wrapped it around Omni’s leg just to ease the pressure, but Ominis saw that as you wanting him to go harder.
So he did. His hips snapped into you hysterically. You cried out in ecstasy as another orgasm hit you like a train.
His hips faltered and he groaned as he came while your walls relentlessly milked his cock. You couldn’t stop writhing beneath him. Feeling his warm spurts of come paint your walls and add pressure made your intense waves of pleasure drag out. Ominis was on his elbows and panting, his lips right above yours. You already couldn’t breathe, but you pulled him down for a kiss regardless.
“I love you,” he gasped as he pulled away from the kiss. “Was that okay? Are you hurting? Should I get you a-“
Ominis had started to move, but your arms wrapped tighter around him and your walls clenched around his length. “Don’t move yet. Stay. Just stay.”
Seeming to understand and reciprocate your need to be close, Ominis rested on an elbow and then used his other hand to caress your body as if you were made of glass. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
The two of you laid like that for a while just playing with each other’s hair and whispering sweet nothings. Soon, Ominis started to get hard again inside of you. He slyly shifted his hips, but his excuse of getting more comfortable didn’t work on you.
“Ominis,” you whined in an exhausted tone. How was he ready to go again!?
His kisses on your neck paused while he laughed against your skin. “Well, I did say twice a day until we’re certain, didn’t I?”
#writing this gave me so many emotions#i grew up in a house that was an in home daycare and in my later teens my mom fostered babies#so it was fun to get into the mind of someone that doesn’t feel the same as me#i think Ominis would be apprehensive about kids because he is insecure and thinks he would ruin them and repeat the cycle of abuse#Sebastian as a dad... I'm imagining him with a bit of weight on him and smile lines... im mentally cheating on ominis#also Seb's family is lowkey based on Crowlispo's OCs#I'm imagining Agatha going on some grand adventure to save Anne's dorky husband#hogwarts legacy#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt smut#my writings
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Puppyboy Gepard
Might delete this later, but we'll see.
Can I just say that I love the idea of puppyboy HSR characters???
Like for some of them it's obvious- Like Gepard. He gives off big golden retriever energy. Very big but very soft boy. Probably so so so happy to see you every time you come around. Can see the way he straightens out and the way his eyes light up. You could practically see a cute tail wagging behind him. Keeps himself contained in public but the second you have time together in private he's probably all over you. Loves loves loves physical contact. Snuggling together and being caressed- Loves the feeling of your hands running through his hair.
If he ever somehow has a day off and you don't, he stares at the door longingly all day until you come home.
Just overall the bestest, cutest boy.
NSFW:
Now on the flip side of this...
Thinking about how he's used to taking orders so surely he'd be a good puppy for you??? Praising him for being a good boy probably has him hard and leaking already on top of being collared and made to sit pretty like a good boy. Good boys deserve treats, right? Probably is a giver and likes to nuzzle up to your leg while looking up at you, pleading with those puppy eyes to let him have a treat. A treat that's leaking between your legs. Would sloppily mouth at your sex with such a hungry look on his face.
If you are a dick haver, he likes to give little licks and kisses to the tip before suckling on it until you grab his hair and slowly slide yourself into his hot mouth. It's not his fault he likes lapping up the precum that dribbles out of your tip when you look down at him on his knees for you. :(( Once he has you in his mouth, he'll go to town with no prompting. Likes the weight and taste of you on his tongue and the way your tip opens up his throat when he takes you down to the base, nose pressed to your navel. Likes the way your precum drips onto his tongue and slides down his throat like a salty treat just for him. Definitely looks good while choking on your cock, tears beading at his lash line. Just wants to please you. :(( (Please let him hump your leg or something while he does it he just needs to cum so bad, man-)
If you are a pussy haver, he likes to nuzzle between your legs to open them up while prodding your clit with his nose before tilting his head to leave a kiss on it. His wet tongue would slide out to give a soft, testing lick before dipping lower to taste the slick leaking from you. Licks his tongue deep inside to get more because he just loves the taste of your arousal. Whines into you when you start pulling him by the hair to shove his face deeper between your legs. Hurts but poor baby also likes the way you control him. :(( Makes a mess on his face and your thighs with the combination of his drool and your wetness dripping down his chin. Sucks on your clit like it's candy. And when it makes you wetter, he'll slide his tongue down to lick out your slick like a hard-won treat. (Also same goes here let the poor horny puppy grind on your leg he's been so good for you right? Right??? :(( )
P.S. Regardless if you are a cock haver or pussy haver I think it'd be great to have a pretty little gold colored plug in him. Whether it's a tail plug because this is pet play or a heart shaped plug because he's an actual dog boy is up to you.
Anyways I could ramble about subby puppyboy Gepard for so long. We'll see if I delete this or nah and if I decide to write more about it.
#hsr smut#gepard x reader#gepard smut#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#oml#puppyboy gepard#sub character#but he also could be:#dom character#d e p e n d s ig#but for this post he is a subby lil bi-#might delete later#this is really just roro rambling there is barely coherent thought here#Roro writes
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]Messy[
Lies of P: P x Gender Neutral Reader
Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, hand-jobs, Oral (both f and M receiving), slight masochis kink? Bodily fluids, language, 18+ Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked immediately after interacting with this post
(Gif not mine)
A/n: bruh I am down astronomically for this damn puppet. I’ve been scouring online for some pure filth with him and Giangio and while I’ve found some gems, I need that itch of mine to be scratched so judge me if you want, I needed this 🤡 the fellow desperate, nasty folks that get it, will get it 😈
-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-
I think it’s safe to say as a whole, the fandom knows P is a messy man.
Like, this boy is fast and agile enough to avoid oil and blood splatters, as well as puddles and generally all together, any liquid messes. (rain, WINE apparently too based of a post I saw on here 👀)
But in a weird way, he feels coming back to the hotel covered in any of it shows both just how hard he generally works, as well as what he accomplished on the mission he’s sent on.
(Cue Geppetto, Antonia and Sofia or even you, lecturing him that coming back to the hotel in one piece is enough to show he both kept himself alive and did a well enough job getting rid of the rabid puppets and people who’d wanted to kill him. 💀)
(Annnd of course it goes in one ear and out of the other because again, he feels a weird sense of accomplishment covered in a mess) 🤡)
Because of this, I feel after the first time you and him have sex he immediately wants to go again not only because he’s aroused by sensations he had just felt, but seeing you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, as well as the mess in between your legs that he caused is an undeniable turn on for him…
Like your lying on your back, and pieces of your hair are clinging to your forehead as well as your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath.
And he’s still sitting on his knees in between your legs that are still spread far apart as he’s starring down at his cum leaking from your pussy/hole, along with the fluids from it around his dick and general pelvis area.
You’ve said his name about three times by now, your voice tired yet worried, and your expression growing concerned as he’s not responding… did he not like it? Was he realizing the act of sex can be a bit gross, and maybe not as appealing for him considering he is a puppet after all?
The answer is no, no, and finally no again ;)
just as you were readying yourself to sit up to cover yourself and break into a ramble of apologies, he moves so fast it honestly startles you… until you feel him again.
He moves so that he’s standing at the foot of the bed now, fully nude and other than the mess on his dick, and his now ruffled hair, he looks far from exhausted or as though he hadn’t even had sex at all.
You don’t even have time to say anything by the time he wraps his hands around your ankles and drags you toward the edge of the bed, so that your ass is almost hanging off.
“P-P, what are you” you don’t have time to finish your sentence as he crouches down and immediately goes to town on your pussy/cock.
Unlike the calmness he initially had the first round with you, (the kitten like kicks, gentle sucks, lack of vocal noise) he’s literally more desperate than he was when he first got in bed with you.
He’s groaning against your core, sending vibrations down your shaft or to your clit, not even bothering to pull away to wipe around his mouth.
He wants to feel your release dripping down your chin or better yet, his face entirely.
The only thing he naturally smells like is oil, and the soap from his clothing that gets cleaned, but suddenly the idea of wearing you release like a cologne has him hard.
He wants you to cum hard at that too, and once he’s done he plans to bring you on your knees so he can paint your face.
Needless to say, sex from that point on is messy.
It gets to the point you might have to start checking the times everyone goes to the lobby so you can sneak past with the cum stained bed spread and sheets to switch them out for more.
Even outside of the room, if your doing something like eating maybe a cake, and a bit of icing falls on your chest or down your cheek, you have to rush to turn around before he notices (he does notice 🫢) because despite his usual stone face resolve, his eyes darken and his tongue might dart out of his mouth and run along his lips quickly and quite suggestively to anyone if they witnessed the entirety of it.
Needless to say, showers are a twenty four seven ordeal with him and you, and even then he might try to refuse if you don’t shower with him.
He’s a messy puppet, what can he say?
#lies of p smut#lies of p x reader#gabbasdumbthoughts#messy sex#smut headcanons#im going to wish I kept this in the drafts later but right now im going feral#I also don’t remember who posted the pics of him in wine I gotta scroll through my likes but whoever you are thank you 🙏
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who in svt 😵💫
cheol:
- he’s pulling you impossibly closer as he helps guide you in his lap, grinding you harder as he tries to find more friction. he’s groaning lowly into your mouth before he’s shoving his tongue far down it (his hand tangling in your hair so you can’t pull away as he bruises your lips with his)
hoshi:
- he’s whining lowly as he chances your mouth as he bucks his hips up into yours only for you to laugh breathlessly at him before you’re trailing your lips down to his neck where his adams apple bobs as he bares it fully to you to allow you to mark him up however you want.
chan:
- he’s a breathless and moaning mess as you suck on his tongue, your arms wrapped around him to keep him close as he tries to grind up into you harder, his mind fuzzy as the only thing he can think about is your mouth as he gets needier with his hands, his whines getting louder the harder you suck on his tongue while making out.
#— [🍒] nova answers#jeonghancvnt#i hope these are coherent but my brain short circuited at the thought of doing this to any of them#it is also 1am agsjsgasga#i will do better later i promise!!! i have so many thoughts on this kind of messy and needy making out/grinding#seungcheol smut#scoups smut#soonyoung smut#hoshi smut#chan smut#dino smut#seventeen smut
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Me: I don't like marriage fics >:(
Also me: What if they're newly weds sharing their nuptial bed and they can't stop calling each other wife/husband/spouse/partner while making sweet love?? 👀
#i'll post it later but i gotta proofread and edit it first#i'm also gonna make several versions#so everyone can enjoy in this lovely moment#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#baldur's gate 3#smut
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Painting
Modern!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader
Contains: nudes, mutual masturbation, phone sex
18+ only
Eddie flopped face down onto his mattress with a sigh. After working all day, playing at the Hideout, and then hauling all of the bands' equipment, he was wiped. He wanted nothing more then to smoke and go to sleep. His phone pinged with a notification. A contact under the name "Loser" had messaged him, causing a split second of confusion before a lazy grin spread across his face when he realized it was you (he had forgotten he changed it when high). You had been unable to come see Corroded Coffin play tonight as you had made previous plans.
Loser: How did it go?? Good?? Bad??
Loser: Was that one chick who wants to be a groupie there??
Eddie: went ok. Y u jealous?
Loser: just curious lol
Eddie: sure. Wbu?
Loser: Good! Robin and Nancy came. We had a nice dinner. We did paintings! Robin's looks better then mine. Mine looks like shit 😔 now just taking a bath and relaxing.
Eddie: show me?
Loser: lol no???
Eddie: y not? I'm sure it good
Loser: you sure?
Eddie: yes
Loser: fine
Eddie doubted your painting looked bad. You always tore yourself down, even when you did amazing things. He always wanted to throttle you, but knew he would be a hypocrite if he did. Eddie rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. He would convince you one day that you were awesome, but until then he would just have to keep reminding you. His phone dinged with a new message from you. He opened it and saw a picture attached and-
Immediately dropped his phone. His heart picked up speed. His eyes widened and face flushed. Eddie dove for the phone as if it were a life preserver and he was drowning. He couldn't believe his eyes. He licked his lips and stared at his phone.
A picture from your neck down. Bubbles in the bath around you. Water was running down your collarbone towards your tits. Your nipples barely covered by the bubbles. One boob having no bubbles around it at all, but your hand flipping him off blocked him from seeing more. He was greedy. He wanted to see more, and had never imagined you would send him this to begin with. Eddie looked down at the tent that had formed in his boxers.
Loser: ask nicely next time 😤
Eddie groaned and his dick twitched. You had totally misunderstood him, he had wanted to see your painting- of course he was more then glad for this outcome. However, he couldn't quite unsee what you had sent, nor would he want to. Eddie reread your text. Next time means more than just this once. Means maybe he could see more. Means maybe he has a better shot with you then he thought. He already overthought things with you many times, and now his brain had just switched to overdrive.
A million thoughts ran through his head as his hand traveled south. He paused briefly," Oh fuck it." He grabbed his dick over his boxers, causing the outline to be very noticeable. He took a pic before sending it to you. He would have felt bad about not sending a message with it, but he would have sat there for ages trying to think of a response. And he couldn't find it in himself to care as he pressed lightly against his dick.
He dropped his phone on his stomach. All Eddie could think about was you as he pulled his dick out of his boxers. Your soap covered tits. How beautiful they looked.. He licked his hand before slowly grasping his dick and squeezing the base, causing the tip to flush more. The pressure causing him to moan. He slowly stroked up and down his length. He picked up the pace, canting his hips up to meet his hand. Part of him wanted to go slow, but the rest of him wanted to get this over with quick so he could do it again and again and again. His chest heaved and sweat started to form on his brow. A sigh fell from his lips that quickly turned to a moan at the thought of it being your hand wrapped around him. How small your hand would look on his dick. How-
His stomach tensed and he jolted as his phone started vibrating and your ringtone played. The vibrations on his lower stomach felt so good, he was tempted to let it keep playing, but the urge to hear your voice was stronger. With his free hand he grabbed the phone and answered. "H-hello?" Eddie asked, panting into the phone. "Oh fuck, Eddie," your voice higher than normal sounded like music to his ears. Eddie moaned and your response was a whimper. "Fuck babe, see what you do to me?" Eddie's voice felt like sandpaper, he was surprised he could even find words. "Uh-huh." The sound of water splashing caught Eddie's attention," holy shit. Are you touching yourself?" "Wish it were you."
Eddie's mind went fuzzy as he picked up speed. The schlick noise picking up, his mind filtering out everything except your moans. "Sound so good. Wish I was there." Eddie mumbled, feeling his tip leaking generously. He was so close. "Fuuuck Eddie I'm gonna-" your sentence was cut off with a moan and he lost it. His hips bucked without rhythm and cum spurted everywhere. He never understood the phrase of people seeing stars behind their eyes until now, but they were more like fireworks. He had never cum this much in his life, not even when he had first found porn.
He slowly came back down, a euphoric feeling enveloping him. A warmth spread in his chest as it heaved, trying to catch a breath. He looked down and saw his shirt covered with his release. Your chuckle pulled him back to earth. "Uh so that happened...so whatcha gonna do about it Munson?" He hummed," Think i should ask you for a date." "You should."
Eddie had the biggest grin when you finally got off the phone, date planned for Friday night. He looked down at your contact name before changing the s to a v. He was going to find that painting you did and make sure it hung over his bed, so he could remember this night forever.
#Eddie eventually tells you about the misunderstanding and you just become more and more embarrassed#You asked him to delete the pic out of embarrassment and he goes on and on about how it is art and how beautiful it is and refuses#He later comes back to you and tells you if you want him to delete it he will and you just laugh and tell him to keep it#He agrees tho that your painting does suck to which you say “yeah I do” and give him a pointed look and he doesn't catch on#Until you huff and grab him and look him in the eyes and flat out tell him what you're offering#Shoutout to my friend who did this to me (it was a clothed pic tho) and I went BRO? and immediately clarified#But it started this thought and it wouldn't shake me loose until I wrote it so here yall go#Idk how to end things and idk how to write smut so take this and do with it as you will#My dumbass over here getting too lost in my own mind to write well fjdjsls#Eddie Munson#Modern!Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson/reader#Eddie Munson x y/n#Eddie Munson x you#Eddie Munson/you#Eddie Munson smut#Eddie Munson x female!reader#Stranger Things#Also Eddie absolutely uses only text speech and you get frustrated with it#Jade is Talking
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[Kara and Nia arguing in the tower when Lena walks in, setting her purse and portable equipment down before approaching the two heroes]
Lena: Ladies, WHAT is going on here?
Kara: Nia saw this supposed fact online and I was trying to convince her that she’s wrong!
Nia: I’m not wrong! It’s impossible to touch your belly button with both your elbows! It’s just a fact!
Kara: It is not-
Lena: Kara…honey, have you tried testing this theory?
Kara: (pouting) I did.
Lena: …And?
Kara: And my muscles are too big and they couldn’t reach. But just because I can’t do it doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
Nia: (quips) Not every day you hear Supergirl say that.
Lena: (chiming in before Kara can retort) Well, Nia, did you try it?
Nia: No, but that’s because a rogue Dominator we were just fighting tore a whole in my Dreamer outfit and I was afraid it’ll tear more if I try.
Lena: Oh my god, Nia, are you hurt?
Nia: I’m fine. Not as injured as Kara’s ego when she she has to admit she’s wrong.
Kara: I will heat vision your face off.
Nia: (sticks her tongue out at Kara tauntingly)
Lena: (standing between the two women with her arms stretched out to separate them) Okay STOP! Would it help settle this if I tried to do it?
Kara: Lena, you don’t have to.
Lena: (raises an eyebrow at Kara and stares at her, as if to convey “I adore you and I don’t mind but I also want to resolve this so we can get back to work,” before turning her head to give Nia a similar look.)
Nia: Sure.
Kara: Yeah, that’d be great.
Lena: And you’ll both abide by the results, without gloating if you win or lashing out with your powers if you lose? [Not that anyone in the room believes Kara would actually melt Nia’s face but saying the last part helps to deescalate the tension]
Kara: I mean…I can’t promise no gloating…
Nia: That seems fair.
Lena: Good enough. (She takes off her jacket and walks over to set it with her other items, revealing a button down blouse with a significant number of the top buttons undone underneath. She walks back over to the two heroes.)
Lena: So…like this? (Lena looks down at her stomach struggling to touch her belly button with both her elbows. She’s unable to do so but unbeknownst to her, the action has caused Lena to push her breasts together, briefly mesmerizing Kara.)
Nia: (to Kara, gently smacking the back of her hand on Kara’s arms) See, I told you we’d be able to get her to do it.
Lena: (confused) Do what? I haven’t done- (looks down again and sees her chest prominently on display for everyone in the room; she chuckles and then stands up straight.) Seriously you two?
Kara: (pointing her finger at Nia without looking at her) It was her idea!
Lena: (Raises an eyebrow at Kara) You expect me to believe that when you’re still not making eye contact with me? (Kara blushes as her eyes snap back up to meet Lena’s)
Nia: (To Lena) No, it’s true. It was my idea…and I’m ten bucks richer because of it! (To Kara) I accept payment in the form of PayPal, Venmo and Noonan’s sticky buns.
Kara: (Looks down at her supersuit, which doesn’t have pockets and thus doesn’t have her phone.) Can I get you tomorrow?
Nia: Works for me. I like my sticky buns warmed up, please and thank you. (Turns to exit the room) I’m going home, I’ve got a date with Brainy in an hour. See you both tomorrow!
Kara: Bye Nia!
Lena: Have a good night!
(Kara and Lena turn their gazes back on each other.)
Lena: So you bet on me not falling for what I’m assuming was a social media trend?
Kara: (Sheepishly) A little bit.
Lena: Well…I’m sorry to disappoint but serves you right that you lost.
Kara: I wouldn’t say that. I mean…yeah I owe Nia breakfast but I refuse to consider getting to stare at your chest as anything other than a win. (Smiles widely at Lena as she approaches her, her hands holding Lena’s lower back while her girlfriend wraps her arms around Kara’s neck, smiling back at her as she touches their noses together.)
Lena: (playfully) You’re ridiculous. (She presses a quick kiss to Kara’s lips.)
Kara: You love me and you know it. (Kara’s freezes at the realization that’s the first time either of them has brought up the “L” word. Before Kara can fully panic, Lena takes a half step closer into Kara’s embrace, bringing their upper bodies into full contact and one of her hands starts to run through Kara’s hair. It helps to both calm the Kryptonian and keep her staring into the enchanting eyes of the gorgeous woman in her arms.)
Lena: It’s true. I really do love you. (The playfulness in her voice a moment ago is gone, Lena has never been more serious in her life.)
Kara: Y-you do? (Kara smiles again. Any nervousness in her voice isn’t about a doubt in Lena’s sincerity; she has none. It’s that hearing Lena Luthor say she that loves her not only reaffirms the strong feelings she’d had of her own that she’d wanted to tell her girlfriend for a while now, but that it also brings such a sheer amount of happiness to Kara that she feels like she could explode and has her briefly questioning reality that this is really happening.)
Lena: (finding it amusing that although her girlfriend is the one with super hearing, Lena’s sure she can hear Kara’s heart beating out of her chest. Tears of joy start to pool in the corner of her eyes. Seeing this causes Kara to do the same.) Yes. Always (it’s a small but loaded word, one they both recognize is an expression of how long and how strongly Lena loves Kara; past, present and future.)
Kara: Oh Lena, I love you too. I love you so much. I-
(Lena leans back against a support beam and cuts Kara off with a passionate kiss. Lena is in love with Kara. Kara is in love with Lena. Kissing the woman who so irrevocably and completely owns your heart, who has giving you theirs in kind, it can set your soul ablaze in a way that words can’t quench. So instead, Lena and Kara kiss, slowly, intimately, conveying their love for one another in a way words would fail to express. Lena is ultimately the one who pulls away first, amused when Kara’s lips try to chase her own. She smiles and teases Kara into unsuccessfully trying to kiss her once, then twice, before acquiescing to Kara’s lips once again. Lena then pulls back and looks into the eyes of her beautiful lover.)
Lena: (pure lust in her voice) Show me.
(Events from there unfold not unlike that old anecdote Lena remembers about a woman falling in love with her soulmate the way one falls asleep: slowly and then all at once. Kara deeply kisses Lena again, pulling Lena flush against her body. They remain kissing this way at a leisurely pace until things escalated. Suddenly, Kara’s tongue was teasing Lena’s lips seeking invitation, which Lena was quick to oblige. The sensation of Kara’s tongue in her mouth caused Lena to emit a low moan, before sucking on Kara’s tongue to spur the same reaction from the taller blonde. Lena’s actions caused Kara’s hands to migrate down from Lena’s back until they were firmly holding her ass and then squeezed, much to the delight of the young Luthor.
It hadn’t taken long for Kara and Lena to sleep together when they first became a couple. They actually had sex on their first date, which was only a day after Kara confessed her feelings and asked Lena out, both laughing off the idea that it was “too soon” when “five years of foreplay had to be a world record.” Since then, Lena and Kara have maintained a very healthy and active sex life. While Kara’s hands held their grip on Lena’s ass, her lips had moved to placing open mouth kisses on Lena’s neck. It was in this moment Lena vividly remembered one particular night from their first week together where Kara couldn’t help but enthusiastically leave love marks across Lena’s body. They’d arrived at Lena’s apartment following a Lena Luthor Foundation Gala and Lena barely had time to lock her door before Kara’s hands were all over her. After several passionate minutes on the couch, somehow not a single article of clothing had been shed between them, Kara whispered in her ear that she could smell Lena’s excitement, which of course made Lena’s arousal that much greater. Taking a page from her girlfriend’s book, Lena cast a quick spell to enhance her own senses, allowing her to smell Kara’s arousal beneath her super suit. Lena groaned at the scent, eager to once again taste her lover.
Lena: (Kara continuing to kiss her neck) You know, I realized recently I could use my magic and smell how excited you are too. (Lena leans to whisper in Kara’s ear) And you’re soaking wet for me right now, aren’t you baby? (Lena takes Kara’s earlobe between her teeth and bites, causing Kara to whimper, before taking her turn to kiss Kara’s neck.)
Kara: So wet for you baby. (Lena traces her tongue up from Kara’s collarbone to her jawline, before Kara pulls her into another loving kiss.) Let me fly you home and make love to you, please.
Lena: Nia left the tower right?
Kara: (confused) Yeah, why?
Lena: (separates from Kara, who whines at the loss of contact, walks towards the largest couch in the rest area, turns back to face Kara and starts unbuttoning the rest of her shirt while staring at her girlfriend) So…we’re all alone in the tower?
Kara: (catching on, deactivating the nanotechnology in her suit for it to come off) For the rest of the night.
(Kara’s own top is on the ground by the time she gets to Lena, kissing her fiercely as she picks up the shorter woman, who wrapped both her legs around Kara’s waist as Kara laid her down on the couch and got comfortable on top of her. Heels were kicked away and skirts were stripped out of in short order after that. Sitting up to discard their bras, Kara straddled Lena, grabbed the Luthor’s face to pull her in for another kiss. Lena licked her way down all of Kara’s now exposed flesh until she got to Kara’s nipple and enveloped it with her lips. Kara moaned in pleasure.)
Lena: (teasingly) You know, it’s always a win when I get to stare at your chest too.
Kara: (laughs) I love you so damn much Lena Luthor.
Lena: (smiles and laughs) I love you so damn much Kara Danvers.
And they continued to express that love throughout the night.
#supercorp#lena luthor#kara danvers#supergirl#supergirl crack …maybe#Nia nal#dreamer#listen…I wrote this and even I don’t know what the fuck this is#this was supposed to be a Supercorp crack post#then I got to Kara saying “you love me and you know it” and thought hmmm#what if I made this about Kara and Lena’s first time saying I love you#which then turned into what if I turned this into mild smut#that I spent so many hours on when I should’ve been sleeping#I didn’t want to write a full smut scene#even before working on this for like 5 hours#I did my best to end it in a decent way#“why didn’t I just save it as a draft and come to it later?”#why don’t you mind your own business lol#also I can’t yet trust that I’d go back and finish it#so for better or worse this is what I did
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Okay but why does Iceman seem like he reads romance novels.
He seems like he would read a lot on carriers and on leave. Everyone including Slider thinks he reads action and true crime novels. I have this idea in my head that Ice would be reading at a social event like a medal cerimony that the '86 gang would all be at and there he would be reading his hardback novel with no name on it. Ice would probely leave for a few minutes to get food or go speak with someone and Mav and the others would grab his book to see what he was reading, and behold they look apon the sumttiest romance book any of them have read. But funny thing would be that Ice has read books that are more sumtty and dark conent wise. Ice is able to keep a straight face while reading it but the rest of the gang turn beatroot read after a single sentnece.
#mav would want to try some of the ideas from the books with ice later#this would also be how they found out he was gay#due to him probely reading a gay smut book on a carrier and leaving it open in his plane after being the spare one mission#top gun headcanons#iceman#tom iceman kazansky#pete maverick mitchell#maverick#top gun#iceman reads romance novels#icemav#but only if you squint#gay iceman
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𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲
. · ˚ ✧ ─────────────────────────── ✧ ˚ · .
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*.✧ ft. rin itoshi
*.✧ nsfw / 18+ only / minors dni ! - drooling, spit, pussydrunk rin, rough sex, this is pure thirst :) fem bodied reader. characters are 18+ and aged up. not proofread yet. continuation of my recent thirst about rinnie baby
*.✧ rin just cannot help but lose himself to you sometimes.
the first time it happens, it makes your heart palpitate and skin shiver.
goosebumps rise across your forearms as they clutch your knees closer to your chest, trying, hoping to open up to him even more. your legs tremble and ache, thighs tense and sore already from the way you keep them spread. Rin is so, so much larger than you - your muscles hurt and pull as you accommodate to him. a moan rips from your mouth as he slaps his hands on your knees, fingers skimming over your own as he grips your legs apart even further, pushing as far as they can go. is he trying to split you in half?
"Rin- ah- Rin," a gasp falls through your damp, reddened lips, half lidded eyes glancing up towards his face. the sight makes your cunt squelch - you can see Rin screw his nose at the sound, mouth falling open with a pant - and you arch your back in a way that brings your ass higher, pressing closer to his hips.
"uhuh- right there," he rasps, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, to catch the droplets of sweat that run down to the corner of his mouth. it is disgusting, honestly, the way he can't bring his hands up to wipe the sweat off. to Rin, it feels like letting go of you would result in the high wearing off, in the bubble bursting and leaving him aching with no release. this was so perfect the way it was now - your small hands trying to grip behind your knees and push your bum upwards, to drive his cock even deeper, face flushed and teeth sunk into your bottom lip as quiet uh, uh's slip out with each hard thrust past your tight walls. if only he could go a little deeper, a little quicker-
"ah fuck- oh god," Rin moans loudly as he tilts his hips, hitting the soft, velvety front wall. "that the spot, yeah? you- you're squeezin' me," he nearly whines at the way you tighten, slick oozing out your pussy and down his balls. Rin's pretty sure he's never felt something like this before - the way your cunt is almost sucking him in. (he did. you do it each and every time he fucks you so well - is it just the fact you always make him utterly fucked out, to the point his mind gets foggy? might be.) he feels his tongue loll out in a desperate attempt to catch his breath, get more oxygen to fill his lungs and give him the drive to push harder.
and harder he goes. god, you didn't even know it was possible, but he does it anyway. you can feel Rin's knees tremble as they push into the mattress, the rhythm of his thrusts turning irregular as he chases the sensation from moments before, when your pussy fluttered and tightened on his cock.
and that's when you feel the droplets on your chest, the slippery liquid almost cool on your heated skin as it drips down the valley between your breasts. eyes widening, you watch as Rin keeps his gaze glued to the exact spot where your bodies meet - where he repeatedly pushes his cock past the tight ring of your opening - with his tongue lolled out, panting like a dog in heat.
"you're making a mess," you moan raggedly, one of your hands slipping off your leg from the excess sweat, and instead you reach it between your thighs to quickly rub circles into your swollen clit.
"uh-uh," Rin drawls, "yeah, that's it. cum with me," he whines, mouth almost falling agape as he watches your juices leave a milky white ring at the base of his cock. "fuck, you're gonna make me cum."
now this, this was a sight to behold and you were sure it would haunt you in your wettest, filthiest dreams. Rin, with his jet black hair stuck to his forehead, chest glistening with sweat, aqua eyes focused on the lewd sight between you - drooling all over himself, as if he couldn't control himself anymore. actually, you were fairly sure he was losing it.
"inside," you moan loudly, feeling the familiar warmth spark deep in your stomach, muscles tightening as your clit pulsates under your fingertips. "fill me up, ok baby? please, please Rin. I want it inside."
honestly, you couldn't help but push him further. you knew he was always so easy to fluster - the cool facade always quickly melting whenever your voice grew even slightly more demanding. you watch as Rin's eyelashes flutter against the top of his cheeks, turquoise orbs rolling back as he pistons his hips against yours two, three, four times - then stills, deep inside, the top of his thighs pressed snugly against your hamstrings as he whines. warm, thick cum oozes right against your cervix as you feel Rin's cock twitch - the sensation being enough to bring you over the edge as well, heat quickly spreading all across your pussy. you arch your back with a cry, head throwing back and eyes squeezing shut as it rings in your ears. you can still feel Rin's spit pool right above your belly button, leaving a wet trail up between your breasts where it first fell from his mouth - and as he finally pushes away from you, shaky hands leaving your knees and letting your feet land on the mattress, you can feel the cool bedroom air hit your skin. it tickles at the wet stains on your skin - on your sternum, abdomen, and between your ass cheeks - like a reminder of how truly filthy your boyfriend was.
"you're such a mess," you murmur, resting your forearm on your forehead with a grin as you peek through one eye at Rin, who wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. as Rin sits back on his heels, his eyes quickly find yours and his cheeks redden even more, the flush spreading across his nose,
"yeah," Rin almost chokes on his words, "yeah, I am."
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reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)
© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.
#✧.* zaria writes#✧˚ · . bllk#bllk smut#bllk x reader#bllk x you#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi smut#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi#blue lock smut#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#hehe this is pure filth#will reread and fix it later#also first writing woohoo#this is exciting ngl#rin my love#repost
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Kekekeke…first Brainrot of the night…
(How do we feel abt tying Zaynie’s hands to the bedpost and just pleasuring him over and over again with praise cause poor manz works too hard)
-💫
ooohh!!!! this is a take that i am so SO down for... i feel that zayne is usually so take-charge and dominant in most hcs, and i myself see him as very much a giver type—always focusing on making you feel good first, or straight-up you to chase his own pleasure <3 but you are So Right!!!! he works too hard sometimes, and he needs to relax, too!! :( he needs to be pampered, too!! :( and if you have to tie him up so he accepts it and lets you take control for once—which will in fact probably be the case—then so be it !!
also as a bonus bc you mentioned it..... he totally has a praise kink, he's just less obvious about it because he's usually busy praising you 🤷
#also the fact is that you'd be the only one he would ever be like this around...#the few sprinkles of occasional sub!zayne moments ?!?!?!?!!!!!#it's a side just for you to see!!!!!!!#(but he definitely gets back at you for it later...)#*ੈ♡. 💫 jar#*ੈ♡. rose jar#ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds#❀˖°. roxiecanon#love and deepspace smut#love & deepspace smut#zayne smut
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Um hi random question for a possible prompt, are you okay with male pregnancy? Cause the prompt is Lucifer finding out that he on a drunken night had a one night stand with Alastor and that has resulted in a secret child that Lucifer never knew about until one day Alastor brings the young boy to the Hotel rather than leaving him with "Aunt Rosie"
TWO PARTS FOLKS! Skip this part if you don't like PWP
SMUT WARNING. LAST CHANCE TO TURN BACK. Also this may or may not be my experiment into smut – let’s see if it’s any good lol
The night of
Later, Lucifer would blame it all on the drink.
(The devil’s brew, indeed.)
Three mistakes were made that night: the first was letting Husk bring that poison into the hotel in the first place. The second was allowing the grumpy cat and his slutty spider friend to pull him into an innocent drinking game that turned not innocent right quick.
Note to self: never, ever agree to play strip poker with an ex-gambling Overlord. What the Hell was he thinking?
Third mistake: allowing Alastor to exist.
He only had vague flashes of the rest of the night, but for some reason he remembered Alastor as clear as daybreak: Alastor’s sharp claws as he scraped him off the bar, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he carried him up to his room, the soft brush of his hair as he dropped him in his bed.
And he remembered grabbing his wrist.
“Don’t go,” he’d whispered.
And Alastor had stopped, a shadow inside of a shadow in the darkness of his room. “Sleep it off, boozehound.”
Lord in Heaven, his voice. The static electrified his blood, combined with the heat that was always simmering at a low boil whenever Alastor was around.
He’d thought it was hatred. Maybe it was. It didn’t matter – hate and lust felt the same when it was soaked in whiskey and rum.
“Why? Too scared to stay?”
He tried to throw the words out as a taunt. They came out like an invitation.
Alastor stilled. For a moment, Lucifer was convinced he would melt into the shadows, but he whirled around in one smooth pounce, clutching both of his wrists in one large hand. His claws dug into Lucifer’s skin, and the little pinpricks of pain sent shocks of electricity straight to his cock.
“Scared?” Alastor snarled. “If either one of us should be scared…” He took one sharp claw and ripped through the thin t-shirt Husk had let him keep. The cotton fell apart like it was made of paper, revealing the smooth, white skin underneath. Alastor ran his hand down his chest, leaving five thin lines of gold behind. Lucifer sucked in a breath, feeling his dick jump and strain in his pants. Oh, the pain was glorious. “It should be you, your Majesty.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lucifer batted back breathlessly.
Alastor hmmed, his red eyes glowing in the dark. Slowly, so slowly Lucifer felt like an eternity and a second had passed, Alastor loosened his grip on his wrists…and immediately plunged down on his neck.
“Wha–” was all Lucifer could get out before a vise-like grip was throttling him. His brain screamed for air, his adrenaline going haywire, and all his nerves went into overdrive. Oversensitized like this, every one of Alastor’s touches made him twist and moan like an untried virgin. No matter what ungodly sounds squeaked through his tortured throat, Alastor kept going, running his sharp claws against the side of his neck, the lines of his back, the deep Vs of his hips.
When he thought he might explode from the lack of oxygen, Alastor let go – and promptly tore the button off his pants. Lucifer’s mouth went dry as his traitor clothes slipped off, and he was laid bare in front of the wicked devil.
“What do we have here?” His grin would make a lesser man’s skin crawl.
Lucifer was not a lesser man. He was the king of Hell. And was he really just going to lie here and let Alastor strip him bare without even trying to fight back?
Moving quickly, he entwined his legs with Alastor’s and flipped them over so Alastor was lying flat on his back and Lucifer was back on top. Alastor hissed, his eyes narrowing, but Lucifer ignored him. Seeing the normally buttoned up and pristine demon like this, his hair mussed, his coat half-open sent a surge of lust so powerful what little breath he had left whooshed out of his lungs.
More, his fevered, whiskey-washed brain whispered. I want him ruined. I want him ravaged.
As if in a dream, he took hold of Alastor’s collar and ripped. The silk flew obediently off his body, revealing his toned muscles, the mouthwatering scars that dipped in and out of sight, tales of violence written in flesh and blood. Alastor was built lean but powerful, his chest as broad as his waist was narrow. Lucifer drank him in, gently touching each one of those scars with a veneration he hadn’t felt since the Fall.
I wonder if you’ll tell me these stories one day, he thought.
Alastor shivered each time Lucifer’s fingers met his overheated skin. A small sound escaped the back of his throat, half growl, half groan.
“Is that the best you can do?” He panted, his teeth gritted into a grin. A challenge.
It was painful to avoid his own straining cock for so long, but Lucifer couldn’t let Alastor’s jabs pass unnoticed. He surged forward and captured Alastor’s mouth with his – all the better to shut you up with, my dear. Alastor’s tongue was as flexible and tantalizing as his shadow tentacles. They battled for dominance, Lucifer’s hands going straight for Alastor’s pants – and letting out a sigh of relief when he felt the unmistakable stiffness pressed against the fabric. A quick slide of his finger, and he was able to grab Alastor’s cock in one hand, winding his other into the astonishing softness of Alastor’s hair.
Alastor snarled and broke the kiss. Lucifer had one glimpse of his face – eyes wild, his edges glitching, a step away from utterly undone – before Alastor sent him flying.
He landed with an oomph on his stomach, the softness of the blanket beneath bunched under his hips as he felt the ominous aura of Alastor crowd behind him. A hand fisted into his hair and yanked up, so rough he felt his scalp ache. Alastor leaned in, his breath hot and sweet against the crook of his neck. He jumped as an unmistakable pressure near his ass.
“One.”
Alastor pushed. Lucifer let out a long, keening cry as he felt a claw enter him. There was nothing soft or gentle about it, but he found himself pushing back, panting violently as a rush of electric lightning arc up and down his body.
It had never felt like this.
“So hungry for it,” Alastor murmured, his grin sharp against his cheek. Lucifer moaned, his dick so hard it bobbed against his stomach.
“Two.”
Another finger. Another rush of pleasure-pain. Another shock of lightning as sparks flew across his vision.
Alastor hummed, as if considering something. The last sane part of Lucifer’s brain trembled with fear…and anticipation. He spat into his palm, readying himself for something.
“What if I do this?”
Lucifer had been right to be afraid.
Alastor scissored his two fingers while grabbing his leaking cock and pumping hard. His mind went blank. His back arched as his mouth widened with a silent scream, feeling the crash of pleasure so mindnumbing, so overwhelming, that he lost all control. Alastor bit at his collarbone at the same time, and the wires of pleasure and pain and everything in between nearly short-circuited his brain for good.
Lucifer found his voice. He screamed as he felt the most violent orgasm he – or frankly anyone in this world – had ever known rip through his body. When he finally came back down to Earth, he realized he was on his back – and Alastor was between his legs.
“What? Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, your Highness?”
Alastor pushed in. Lucifer’s ass burned as he struggled to take in his massive length. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and the most delicious, static-burred groan tore from the back of his throat. It was the sexiest thing Lucifer had ever heard. His limp body, already exhausted from the pleasure Alastor had so savagely pulled from him, started stirring again.
Then Alastor hit that spot inside of him, and Lucifer’s head fell back, a strangled scream forced from the very depths of his soul. Alastor, true to form, was not gentle. He dug his claws into Lucifer’s waist as he snapped his hips, going as deep as he possibly could with every stroke. He growled as he moved, the static moving in and out of focus in time with each of his thrusts.
In the ghostly voices of the static, Lucifer could have sworn he heard his name.
There was a screech, and Alastor shuddered, his muscles rippling as Lucifer felt his cock swell inside of him.
“Let go, Alastor,” he panted. “Let go. It’s just us here.”
With a roar, Alastor did as he asked. A raging heat filled his insides as Alastor collapsed on top of him, his hair damp with sweat and an almost-peace crossing over his face.
Lucifer marvelled at it for a minute – before flipping Alastor back over and straddling his hips so that Alastor had a front-row view of his fully erect cock.
“What?” Lucifer grinned, his eyes glowing gold in the dark of the room. “Did you think you were the only one who got to have fun, Overlord?”
#radioapple#pwp#duckiedeer#PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE SMUT IM BEGGING YOU#lots of dicks in this one#pwp experiment#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#part 1#next part will actually be plot i promise#also anon i am so sorry if this isn't what you wanted i was possessed what can i say#may delete later#and do the actual prompt lmao
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leaving love bites on u 💜
aka i have a huge thing for baji and his fangs 🥺
ft: baji, chifuyu, mikey (idk how he weaseled in)
warnings: biting/marking lol, blood mention, possessiveness, reader is gn but dress/skirt mention, all the boys are timeskip. MINORS DNI.
baji likes to bite and mark u everywhere. seriously, everywhere!! this isn’t just for your body either, it’s for places. he’ll mark u in the pet shop behind the counter, at a restaurant, amusement park, u name it and baji is there biting and sucking away <3 especially since u told him u love his lil fangs! he suckles hickeys into your neck all time, littering your collarbone with them as well. kissing ur hand turns into nibbling on your fingers. its not a secret that u biting him back turns him on, especially if it’s his finger or thumb that somehow found its way into ur mouth. if ur fucking, hes a little harsher, sinking his teeth into ur shoulder blade and lapping at the lil pricks of blood <3 honestly, the marking has become so distracting chifuyu and kazutora have asked him to ease up. he can’t help it, he just thinks ur so pretty all marked up and all his!!
cutie pie chifuyu only marks you in places u can hide, but he marks them all over. your chest, your stomach, your back, thighs, are covered with chifuyu’s hickeys. fuyu is actually pretty possessive over u, but would be very embarrassed if any of his friends called him out on it. he cant deny the way his heart races when he sees u wearing clothes u normally would knowing his handy work is underneath. he can’t wait to take those pesky garments off and give u some fresh marks <3
bonten!mikey likes to bite u in places that are juuuust barely hidden. as much as he would love to show them off, since you are his and his only, he finds it more thrilling this way. if u were to stretch, shirt pulling up, u can just barely see the bruised skin underneath. if u were wearing a skirt/dress and bent down, his mark would be there too, just barely visible on the back of your thigh. it's sort of a game for him! he loves the awkward coughs and throat clears when a glimpse of your pretty purple flesh catches the eye of one of his subordinates. where should he mark next?
#pibby writing#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers spoilers#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers x reader#baji smut#chifuyu smut#mikey smut#manjiro x y/n#baji x y/n#chifuyu x you#ngl i might expand on this later i also hope this doesnt flop but i also dont think its that good-#CAN U TELL IM SO LOVESICK IN THIS I CANT STOP HEARTINGKSKDKF#this is so tame i really want to write a full blown baji fic on this lol
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