#and then they flirt and make out a bit but they don't bone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chososdiscordkitten · 3 months

Text

Attention Whore. G.S

synopsis: reader doesn't like gojos bad habit of flirting w/ strangers -_-

Content: fem reader, established relationship, switch reader nd switch satoru, SOME plot, mostly porn, teasing nd bullying, praise (?), manhandling, brief prone bone, missionary so we can keep fighting, cream pie, aftercare!!!! finally!!!! Word count: 5.8k (a.n) yayyy I finally post some filth !!!! I was starting to go blind from posting sfw stuff. wrote this listening to 'Portrait of a Man - Screamin' Jay Hawkins'

MDNI

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Gojo never liked letting you go to bed mad, didn’t even like seeing you upset. (except when he purposefully did it in hopes you'd do something about it) Especially when he knew he was right and you were just being pissy for no reason. It was date night, the evening had turned sour halfway through dinner. You stopped making conversation, looking down at your phone, avoiding eye contact with your eyebrows pinched together. Even on the drive back to his apartment you were quiet, only looking out of the window facing away from him with your knees.

Standing in the elevator, arms crossed as he sprinted to catch the closing doors. Gojo not being fast enough made you crack a smile of amusement. Only- he was able to see it, making him close his eyes with a sharp inhale, remembering he had to be patient- how he couldn't get upset till he knew what he did to make you mad.

But his patience was thinning, first you pointed your knees towards the car door, facing away from him as he drove home, shaking off his hand when he tried to rest it on your thigh. Then you opened your own car door- which made him look like an asshole to anyone walking in the parking garage. And then you left him behind- purposefully not holding the elevator for him. And worse, you grinned at the fact you left him.

As patient of a man as Gojo was; this was too much, your passive aggressive attempts at being mean to him were too much. So by the time he reached his apartment door, hand going for the doorknob thinking you had left it unlocked for him- only to find it locked? That was the last straw of patience Satoru had for you. Reaching into his pocket slowly, taking the keys and unlocking the door. Stepping in calmly, hanging his coat. Being able to see you from the corner of his eye, standing in his kitchen, drinking a glass of his water.

“Gonna tell me what's wrong?” his tone was low, derived from all the playfulness it usually had, standing a few feet away from you.

You looked at him with pursed lips and folded arms, “Did you do something wrong?” you asked sweetly, wanting to see if he had a clue of what he did.

“If taking you to dinner and bringing you back to mine is wrong- then yeah, I did something wrong.” he scoffed, putting his hands into his pockets.

You huffed with a smile, turning away from him and nodding your head, “There you go. Why would I be upset if you did nothing-” you emphasized with a huff, taking a step closer to him. “-wrong?” You smiled up at him, tilting your head.

Satoru raised his eyebrows, unentertained at your attempts of being passive aggressive. He took two steps forward, standing a few inches away from you. Strong stance from both of you, making it clear neither of you had any plans of stepping down.

He pouted his lip teasingly, bringing his hand to the side of your neck, pulling you closer to him “If you don't tell me what I did, how can I make it up to you?” he murmured. Mocking the way you looked at him.

You squinted your eyes, knowing if you were any closer- your lips would brush against his.

You smiled, leaning in the tiniest bit, noses brushing against each other, seeing his eyes flicker closed- expecting you to kiss him. “If you don't know what you did wrong-” his eyes blinked open, pinching his eyebrows together. “-theres no making it up to me Satoru.” You smiled, pulling away from him and taking a step away from him. Gojo didn't want to fold- he didn't want to make you think you were right, he tried to feign being serious. He inhaled, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. Scanning your features as he tried remembering what he did wrong in the middle of dinner. Somewhere between the appetizers being brought out and him coming back to the table with your drink from the bar.

Staring back at him as a long silence hung in the air, arms crossed and hip popped. If you looked close enough, a lightbulb popped behind his eyes. Gojo loosed his tensed shoulders, now seeing why you were so upset.

“Awe~” he smiled, making your eye twitch at his pity, “Don't tell me you're jealous?~” he teased, his tone soft and playful again. Only- you weren't quite ready to continue his games.

It wasn't jealousy, it was infuriating- seeing how easily he flirted with someone. Even if you were a few feet away from him.

He went to the bar to ask for your drink when the waitress only brought out his, telling you “No it's okay- I'll do it for you.” with a smile. Leaning over the counter, being able to see that glimmer in his eye when he took off his sunglasses, smug smile on his face when the bartender gave it to him for free. Even flaunting it when he came back to the table, telling you how they gave it to him at no extra charge, ‘only because you're so pretty’ he claimed they said.

It was true, dating Satoru came with having to beat people off with a stick whenever you went out. Most of the time he'd take care of it though, showing disgust with his expression.

Often ignoring what they said- if he was feeling mean, he'd even laugh at them before looking at you. But when he'd do it when it wasn't necessary? Just to get some attention from a stranger- he even admitted it to you. “I only have an instagram for attention from strangers.” In the moment you took it as a joke, laughing it off. But now? Now you're starting to think he was telling the truth.

Squinty eyes looking up at him as his hands held your face, tight enough to make your bottom lip pout. Parting his lips and leaning in to kiss you- only for you to pull away slightly.

This didn’t deter him- if anything it made him want to try again. Stepping forward so you'd be pressed against the wall. Leaving you nowhere to turn to.

“Don't be jealous~” he hummed, holding your face firmly, pressing an opened mouth kiss to yours. Keeping your eyes half lidded, he pulled away, eyes dark and a blush forming on his cheeks. Seeing this as an opportunity to toss his pity elsewhere- you smiled sweetly, pressing a small kiss to his lips before opening your mouth to speak-

“This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't such an attention whore ‘toru.” making sure to keep a sweet tone, words making your lips brush against his.

He gave you a teasing laugh, “Only for you~” he pouted, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your lips, taking one the hands on your face and trailing it down your side.

Heartbeat quickening as you felt his hand trail down your thighs, making you realize how unserious you were being. A small moan falling from your throat onto his tongue. His tongue tangling with yours sloppily, eyes blinking closed as the tips of his fingers pushed up against the hem of your skirt, light fingers trailing to the damp spot forming on your panties.

With a soft gasp you opened your eyes, the anger pretended to feel towards him slipping through your fingers as he pressed against your panties.

Furrowing your eyebrows and pulling away from him, pushing him lightly with a scoff. Making him step back, leaving enough space for you to take a step out from his grasp.

Looking at him as though he was a mad man, breathing heavily before turning to walk away from him. Only for Gojo to grab your wrist and pull you back to him with ease, wrapping one arm around you to make sure you couldn't step away from him again.

Angry expression looking at his smug one. Taking small steps back, guiding you to the couch, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. Lips slotting against your non participating ones, tongue trying to push past the tight crease your lips made just to taunt him, reaching his hand down to give you a firm squeeze on your ass, making you part your lips at the sudden contact.

Satoru took advantage of this and slipped his hardworking tongue back into your mouth with a low groan, half lidded cerulean eyes looking back at you. With a small bump at the back of his calves he sat down on the couch, bringing you down with him. His hands now loosening their grip on your hips as you eased yourself down onto him.

Gojo’s hands roaming down the sides of your thighs, pulling up the fabric of your skirt, placing one greedy hand to your ass cheek. Gripping tightly as the other roamed between your thighs. Your hands bracing on his shoulders and chest as he pulled his lips from yours.

A small gasp leaving your throat as he thumbed the mound he assumed was your clit. Feeling him press small kisses down your jaw, holding your lips tightly shut in retaliation- still trying to feign being uninterested.

“Lemme make it up to you, hm?” he hummed against your collar bone- taking his thumb from your clothed clit and pulling your damp panties down ever so slightly. Making sure to keep a slow pace till you said ‘yes’- till you fell for his seductions. You looked down at him, cheeks warm and eyes dim, with your lip tucked between your teeth.

You nodded ‘yes’, succumbing to his attempts at an apology.

With both of his hands, Gojo pulled your panties down to your bent knees. Leaving no time between placing his hand back to your ass, the other lightly grazing at your inner thighs, the tips of his ring and middle fingers gently brushing up from your cunt to your clit. Making you let out a small huff at the feeling.

“I really should stop being so mean to you, hm?” Satoru asked- uncaring if you answered or not, lightly passing past your entrance. Humming against your neck, small sighs leaving your lips in response.

Your hand roaming to his neck, raising yourself from his fingers unwillingly as his palm brushed against your clit. With a small giggle he led you back down onto his palm, making you blink your eyes shut as his fingers curled into the spot that sent a shiver down your spine.

A clear moan left your lips when his thumb pressed against your clit, the strap of your top slowly falling down your shoulder, making the top of your breast start to show.

Satoru caught this quickly, with hungry eyes he looked up at you. Then back down to the fabric slowly falling down your chest. Scissoring his long fingers inside of you as his thumb pushed up to the tip of your clit. Cracking your eyes open and looking down at him, small huffs and whines leaving your lips as the hand on your ass massaged it firmly.

“Look at you-” he smiled, pearly teeth flashing past his lips. His eyes glimmering as your eyebrows pinched, “So pretty~” Satoru cooed, inching his lips closer to yours, breathing the same air before he spoke again.

“And all for me.” he hummed, jaw dropping in a half smile. Pleased with how your cunt made vulgar squelching around his fingers.

Throwing your head back and arching your back, hips grinding back and forth in attempt to make him move quicker. Your breast popping from your top, making Satoru’s mouth open in awe, not wasting any time before connecting his lips to your nipple. Groaning lightly, making vibrations ripple through your skin.

Mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ at the sudden contact. Gojo’s tongue swirling around your hardening nipple with his thumb making hastier circles against your clit.

Parting your lips as you looked down at him, greedy mouth sucking harshly at your breast, hips following his fingers movements as though you were riding him.

Letting your nipple fall from his lips, mouth open smile greeting you with wide eyes, you couldn't hear very well from his talented fingers making your brain fuzzy- but you were 99% sure he mouthed ‘spit in my mouth.’ with a wondrous smile.

A vexing grin formed on your lips, you nodded ‘no’. His fingers making desperate movements against you at the blatant denial.

“I don't think-” you gasped, trying to contain the moans that formed in your lungs. “-you deserve it Satoru.” making his eyebrows knit together, and his cock to twitch in his slacks.

Jaw clenched and speedening fingers making your mind blur, not remembering why you shouldn’t act on his pleads- but you were sure he didn’t deserve it. Taking your hand from his shoulder and running it down his button up- making him shiver at the millimeter difference between your fingertips and his skin.

“Please-” he begged, cunt twitching around his tireless fingers, a small gasp leaving his lips when he felt your palm graze against the bulge caged behind useless fabric.

Gojo’s attempts at keeping control slowly fading as he let out a whine, your hand groping the shaft of his member, feeling it pressed to the side of his upper thigh.

His thumb wavering against you as you stroked the mound slowly. Giving him a reason to be breathless, with one curl of his fingers you felt that well known knot form in your tummy, knowing if his movements continued the way they were he would go on a power trip.

Somehow Satoru turned this into a competition the minute you denied him his request.

Here he was trying to be nice to you, only for you to deny his wish.

Trying his very best to focus, jaw clenched and lips pursed. Attempting to not let those stifled whimpers you were working hard for leave his lips when you palmed his cock.

With a low groan he shook off your touches, wanting to make you cum first, leaning down, foreheads pressed together as you felt yourself come undone in his hand. Clearer whines infiltrating his ears as he felt you cunt flutter around his fingers. Your hand halting its movements, grinding down onto his fingers making the palm of his hand squelch against you- with a small laugh, finally able to catch his breath, he looked over your face.

Churned with pleasure as the waves of your orgasm flooded any thought that was previously in your mind.

“I win-” he huffed, making you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows and plush lips. Coming down from the high he pushed you off of, and feeling the irritance return to your mind, you looked into his eyes before leaning back down to kiss him, knowing if you didn't- he'd keep talking.

Teeth clashing against each other as unfiltered whines rolled onto your tongue. Feeling his fingers pull out of you slowly- reaching for the button of his slacks, not caring if your mess got on them. Undoing the button and slipping the zipper down.

Taking your hand and slipping it past the black band of his briefs, grabbing his cock by the shaft and exposing it to the air. A desperate groan rumbling against your lips as you thumbed his crying slit.

Pulling away from his lips with a drawn line of spit connecting his bottom lip to yours. Cock twitching in your hand as you slowly stroked him, throaty moans leaving his puffy lips. “You do like attention hm?” you whispered, making him let out a whine- now being on the receiving end of teasing.

“Mmm-” he hummed, “Only from you~” he whined, frustrated as your hand pulled from his cock. Reaching between your thighs and collecting the mess he made of you.

Cupping the slick and pressing it back to his shaft. Gojo’s mouth opened with a gasp, feeling your hand glide up and down with ease. Cradling his tip with your palm when you stroked past it, rewarding you with small hics and whines from Satoru.

Taking your other hand, joining it with the one clutching around him, hands gliding at the perfect speed. Gojo blinked his eyes closed, head threatening to fall back onto the couch. “F-feels soo good-” he moaned from deep in his throat, chest heaving at the surrounding feeling of both your hands.

Leaning in and connecting your lips to his again, greedy mouth welcoming you with an unashamed moan. Feeling his cock start to twitch firmly against your hands. Knowing what to do to throw him off the ledge he was holding himself at.

Pulling one of your hands from his needy cock, lips parting from his with a smile. “You talk too much ‘toru.” you grinned darkly, raising the hand that was on his member up to his mouth.

His eyes cracked open, seeing your slick hand presented in front of his face. Opening his lips; already knowing what you wanted from him. Coaxing two digits into his mouth, tips of your fingers pressing onto his tongue as he closed his lips. Groaning lightly at the taste of you and him mixing, the hand on his member quickening- making shallow pumps around his cockhead. Satoru rewarded you with desperate grunts, being able to tell he was close from his twitching chest. Squeezing your fist, hearing quiet squelches from his mouth, as he enthusiastically sucking on your fingers. Placing your palm flat against his angry tip, rubbing slowly. Quick whimpers falling from him as you circled around the tip, taking your fingers from his mouth, leaving his lips parted.

Leaning down slightly, parting your lips and seeing him open his mouth further, tongue flat as it covered his bottom teeth. Gathering what you could on the tip of your tongue, tipped head inches away from his. His tongue poking out slightly to welcome you with the corner of his lips curling upwards.

With a low groan, your spit hit his tongue, your hand ruthlessly stroking his crying cock. Eyes fluttering to the back of his head before closing them. Feeling the glob roll down his throat made goosebumps form on his arms, “I’m cumming-I’m cumm-” he whined, making you look at him with parted lips in amusement.

Hot dribbles of his cum falling from his slit, taking your palm from his tip and stroking his cock slowly- working through his body trembling orgasm. Exaggerated whines and whimpers falling from his lips as you worked him down.

With heavy exhales his body stopped twitching. His softening member in your hand as Satoru’s eyes blinked shut, small sheen of sweat peaking through lily white hair. Pulling your hand from his cock, centimeters away from Satoru’s face as you raised your fingers to your lips.

Licking a long stripe from the base of your middle finger, to the tip of your nail. His gaze was heavy on your lips- on what you were doing. Collecting his mess on your tongue and holding it in your mouth.

Placing a filthy hand to his shoulder, not caring if you dirtied it. Gojo’s parted lips waiting for you to press your tongue against his. Closing the gap between you and him, tongues pressing together with a content whine. Wrestling each other as his spit mixed with yours. Satoru’s hand gripping firmly at your bottom, trying his best not to groan into your mouth while tasting himself.

His hands started roaming, untucking your top from your skirt and lifting it up. Lips parted briefly as he tossed your shirt off before reconnecting them. Instinctively going to hold one of your breasts in his hand, massaging it in sync with the one on your ass. Trailing your fingers down to the buttons of his shirt, making quick work at undoing them. Spit trailing down his chin from how sloppy your tongues moved against each other.

There was nothing Satoru wanted to do than burrow himself inside of you- but knowing you, you'd only drag this on till he was apologizing just to convince you.

Leaning away from the couch, guiding you to stand up. Lips still connected as Satoru held you tight, greedy hands groping firmly against your skin. Pulling away from him with a smile, “You're so eager-” you teased, being able to feel his cock spring back to life against your tummy.

Lacing his lips back to yours- all but telling you to shut up. Your panties falling to the ground from your knees, leaving you only in your skirt.

“Says you-” he giggled, pressing his lips back to yours, “I bet you're still dripping~” He hummed against you, trailing the hand on your ass to the band of your skirt, slowly passing the top and trailing down to your cunt. A small huff of content knowing he was right. You let out a small groan, pulling away from him.

“You're still an attention whore-” you giggled, letting him guide you to the bedroom. He groaned into your lips at the words. Your hands pulling his tucked shirt from his slacks, snaking them up to his shoulders to push off the fabric, Gojo’s hands were forcefully pulled from your skin as his feet made clumsy steps forward.

Kicking off his shoes as he stumbled, blinking his eyes open to see how far away the bedroom door was- smiling against you as your hands gripped into his sides. Your head hitting the bedroom door- pulling your hand from his side and tried to find the doorknob. Not being able to find it- his inpatient hand dropped from your neck and opened it for you, pushing you through the doorway quickly.

Feeling the back of your knees hit the bed, he shoved your shoulder playfully, making your back hit the bed as you looked up at him. Slacks still on and cock freed from them. You quickly shoved your skirt off, with his assistance pulling it from your ankles leaving you bare.

“Dunno why you're jealous-” he started, shoving his slacks along with his briefs down to his ankles, kicking them off quickly. Looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and hungry eyes.

Gojo’s hands reached for your calves. Flipping you over to lay on your tummy. Trailing his hands from your calves to cup your ass, relishing the sight of your mess glistening on your inner thighs. Kneeling on the bed before leaning down, eye to eye with your plump bottom. Your face pressed against the bed as he groped your cheeks, “Look at you.” Satoru moaned, playing with the bountiful swell, small whimpers leaving your lips in response.

“Fuck-” he mumbled, leaning down and licking a long stripe onto your cunt with a groan.

Opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into your skin, a pained whine forced from your chest at the sudden sting. His groans vibrated against your skin. Satoru sat up, his knees keeping your thighs pressed together as his hands spread your ass, breath leaving his chest at the sight.

Taking one of his hands and giving his cock a few quick strokes, stifled moans leaving his lips as you arched your back- waiting for him to fuck you.

You lifted your face slightly, “Hurry up.” you demanded being able to hear the quiet squelching from him stroking himself. With an irritating snicker, he bit his lip- angling the tip of his cock to your slick cunt. Resting his hands at the sides of your shoulders as his hips contemplated pushing all the way into you with no warning,

“Now who's eager?~” he hummed, making you let out a groan in frustration-

“Shut up Sator-” you attempted, feeling the tip of his cock breach your entrance. Mouth falling open in a long gasp as he plunged his cock into you, Gojo’s grunt in content was muffled by his lip, only making a pleased hum when he felt your warm cunt engulf his cockhead.

Eyes screwing shut at the sting from how he stretched you, not being able to keep your head held up, turning it to the side with a muffled moan. Unforgiving hips pushing himself in further- no matter how much your cunt resisted. As much as Satoru liked the view- he didn't appreciate your attempts at hiding your moans.

With a throaty grunt, he lifted a hand from the bed, gripping the side of your neck. Wrapping his fingers around your throat as best he could, pulling you up and nuzzling his cock deeper inside of you with an invading whine in your ear.

Making short deep thrusts as he brought your face up, eyes rolled back at the strain he put on your neck. Rolling his hips slowly as he pushed himself in as deep as he could. The angle he was hitting repeatedly made your hands fist at what you could find. With a huff against your ear, the hand on your throat gave you a gentle squeeze.

Gojo’s hips pulled out further, “S’too deep ‘toru-” you managed, making him let out a breathy laugh against your ear.

“You were the one begging me to hurry up~” he huffed, closing his eyes at how tight you felt around him in this position. His lower abs clenching from how close he was already. Lightly straightening his back, raising himself with his head thrown back, your neck in his hand as he pulled.

Breathy whines with incoherent words leaving his lips. Eyes closed so tight he swore he could see white dots behind them, you let out a small huff- sounding more like a laugh. “You cu-cumming already?” you smiled, squeezing the muscles of your cunt. He dropped your neck with a gasp, snapping both of his hands to your hips to brace for the orgasm inflating in his tummy.

Face dropping back to the pillows as he slowed his thrusts. Taking your hands and bringing them in front of your face, using your elbows to prop yourself up.

You couldn't see it- but he was nodding his head ‘no’ violently, bottom lip sucked behind his top one. Muffled whimpers behind his lips as you gave him a giggle at how quiet he tried to be. Satoru parted his mouth, a sigh with the words ‘shut up’ leaving his lips as he slowly fucked into you, trying his best to concentrate on not cumming.

Gojo’s slow pace made your mind clear a bit, being able to formulate coherent sentences now- and taking advantage of it. You smiled with a huff, “You-” a high whine, feeling his cock brush against your gspot. “You really do like attention huh?” You purred, hearing him let out a drawn out whine as though it was an answer, “S-say it ‘t-toru.” you groaned, feeling his small thrusts become sloppy.

“No- no I don-” he whined, feeling your cunt suck him deeper with every shallow thrust.

WIth a loud groan he pulled out- leaving himself on edge. Ragged breaths leaving his nose as you smiled into your hands. Trying to slow his breathing as he angled his chin up to face the ceiling, all but praying for strength in that moment.

Looking down, blown pupils taking up space in his blue eyes- Satoru mumbled a quiet curse. Knees weak against the bed as he contemplated what to do- he knew if he came right then and there you'd win.

Satoru smiled, huffing a breath through his nose. “You're so mean to me.” he complained, his tone playful as he reached his hand down to hold your ass in his palm.

“You like when I'm mean to you.” you breathed, gulping quickly as the tips of his fingers pressed against your skin, tilting your face to look over your shoulder, seeing he was a blushing mess.

Cock dribbling small tears and pinched eyebrows, raising himself from his calves, allowing you to turn over a little. Pouting your lip out to mock him, “Don't pout ‘toru.” you hummed, reaching a hand out to him. Guiding him to bend down and face you. Noses brushing as he hoped you'd apologize for being so mean.

Pulling a knee up to uncage you from his legs, hands on your hips guiding you to lay on your back, planting his knee between your legs as you held his face in your hand. “Remember how mean I can be next time you whore yourself out-” you smiled, “Okay?~” making his eyebrows furrow and his pout to churn into a smirk. The competitive man you fell for rising to the surface.

Satoru settled his knees between your thighs, propping himself up with his forearm. The other angled his cock to kiss your entrance ever so lightly.

Tilting his head with a smug smile, pressing his tip back into you with a suppressed whimper. Widening your mouth with a gasp, “I don't-” he started, feeling your hand on his bicep trail to his side, “-whore myself out.” he smiled, pushing himself in slowly, gummy walls gladly receiving his cock.

Leaning down and pressing an opened mouth kiss to your lips, “You're just jealous.” he huffed, feeling his balls rest against your ass, you inhaled sharply, trying to swallow your moans.

“M’not jealous-” you moaned, resting your hand on his lower back, urging him to move his hips.

“Good.” he hummed, pulling out of you with a droning moan, lips brushing against yours, eye to eye as he kept his tip inside of you.

Satoru whined, looking at you with a soft expression. “I don't wanna fight anymore-” he whined against your lips. Frustrated from all the teasing.

It was tempting- very tempting. Telling him it was too bad, but you couldn't bring yourself to. Especially since the hand on your hip was inching closer and closer to your clit.

“M’neither-” you gasped, pressing your lips to his with a desperate moan. Trailing the hand on his back to rest on his outer thigh. Feeling him suck your tongue into his mouth- imprecise movements as Gojo held his cock still.

“Fuck me ‘toru-” you mumbled into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him. Being able to feel your heartbeat in your ears from how riled up this was getting you.

Satoru’s hips couldn't stand it- plummeting himself fully inside of you. Straggled exhales from both of you, breaking the kiss as he held his eyes open. Not hesitating before he pulled himself out once more, parted lips brushing against yours, cerulean eyes threatening to roll to the back of his head from how warm- how soft you felt inside.

He clenched his teeth together, thrusting into you quickly, using his non dominant hand to rub clumsy circles on your clit- hoping you'd come in unison. Rolling his hips sloppily, not keeping a pace- you gave him whines that he gladly drank up. Not daring to kiss him knowing that would throw him over the edge-

Satoru’s lips pursed, the hand on your clit rubbing firmer circles as you leaned your head back into the pillows, holding the side of his neck with one hand- the other scratching harshly at his bicep. Clenching your eyes closed as you felt chills shudder through you- “fuckfuckfuck-” he huffed through clenched teeth, back arching at how close he was.

Harsh hips fucking up into you- making your head slightly hit the head board- beingtoo close to your own orgasm to care. “Right there- rightthere-” You whined with a slur, Gojo’s hand pulling from the bed and holding himself up on the wall.

Opening your eyes with a gasp- pulsating cunt making his cock throb inside of you. Toes curling as his hips gave you one final firm thrust. Cunt clenching around him as he tried to pull out- milking his tip for anything he had. He closed his lips, gulping as his hand slowed its pace on your clit.

Manually inhaling sharply and exhaling. Feeling his shoulders start to soften, pulling his hand from your clit and pushing his arm from the wall. Looking down to your half lidded eyes, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Corner of your lips curling up at the gesture. Still breathing heavily when he pulled his lips from you, straightening his spine and looking down at the sight of you connected to him.

Every. Single. Time it pained him to look at the sight. Knowing he'd have to eventually pull out of you. Pinched eyebrows and mournful eyes blinking at your glistening cunt. Still being able to feel you pulsing around his softening cock.

Chest heaving as he slowly pulled out of you, head resting back into the pillows. Satoru let out a stifled whine when he pulled his cock fully out, a quiet squelch from your cunt in return. Feeling his cum leak out, dribbling onto your ass. He rolled over on his back with an exhale.

Both left heavy breathing. Satoru rolled onto his side, looking at the side of your face. Eyes half lidded, admiring your profile.

Pressing a small kiss onto your shoulder, “M’sorry.” he mumbled against your skin, you turned to look at him. Tired eyes scanning his face that was saturated in afterglow.

“For..?” you asked, too tired to recall why you were upset.

“Being an attention whore.” he hummed innocently, making you close your eyes and nod knowingly.

“Mm, see I told you.” You murmured, feeling the weight shift off of the bed.

Time passing unknowingly, feeling Satoru kneel back onto the bed, peeking an eye open. Hazily scanning his hands- mumbling something, “Lets clean you up-” he hummed, taking a warm washcloth and wiping gently between your thighs. Knowing you were too tired to get up and shower. A wince leaving your lips when he pressed a little too harshly.

“Should be good enough.” he mumbled to himself, folding the cloth and wiping himself before tossing it to the dirty laundry hamper. You hummed quietly, eyes closed and waiting for him to lay down again.

Gojo plopped himself next to you, making you open your eyes from the bed moving. He whispered something, too quiet for you to hear.

You groaned playfully, turning over and facing away from him. Knowing how much energy he still had after one round. Hearing small mutters behind you as he pressed his chest to your back. Pulling you closer to him with a small kiss on your temple. Your eyes hesitating to blink shut as he hummed against your skin.

Satoru exhaled a sigh of content, taking one of his hands and pulling the made sheets towards your end of the bed.

“Happy now?” he hummed, hearing a groggy ‘mhm’ fall from your closed lips. Scooching closer to you as he threw the corner over your bare bodies. With one long blink you drifted off to sleep.

Leaving his face nestled next to your head, humming against your skin, satisfied knowing you'd go to sleep feeling delighted.

im trying a new post style lets see how it goesss. I ruined my sleep schedule to finish this..... imma go to bed now

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marvelsswansong · 4 months

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Imagine corio seeing a woman flirt with r he’s so confused cuz he’s used to disgusting men after her only

no but like seriously 🌞👉👈

Corio isn't oblivious to the fact that there is a price for dating someone as beautiful as you. Namely, that others - doesn't matter if they're complete strangers or close working colleagues - will secretly want you, with some of them even being bold enough to try and entice you.

This is all much to his annoyance, as he tries being very public about the fact that you're his. Think constant arm around your waist, aggressive kisses in public, loudly calling you 'darling' from across the room. But that doesn't seem to deter everyone.

Especially not the types of men in the Capitol.

If he's feeling calmer that day, he might just stop at glaring at the man whilst pulling you away by the waist, or knocking the breath of you by suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you fiercely for the crowd of men to see. If he's in a sour mood, or it's been a hard week, you have to be careful to keep an eye on the blonde in case he flies into a fit of rage and his mind starts to scan the room for whatever is sharp and capable of causing damage.

"Sometimes I feel as if I have to babysit you." you would tease after one particularly harsh night, where you and Corio get thrown out of a house party after he smashed another man's face into the wall and then proceeded to twist the man's arm to the point of almost breaking a bone. Granted, the man had been extremely aggressive towards you and making very inappropriate comments, but it'd been rather awkward to see the stranger be carried onto an ambulance whilst the head of the household ordered the both of you out.

Chest heaving and knuckles still bruised from the impact, he'd just kiss you again, his tongue tasting of copper.

"Can't help it. You're too pretty." he whispers, and all your criticisms of him would fly out the window.

But Coriolanus is always less guarded when it's a woman around you. After all, you have so many best friends who are women, you spend so much time around grandma'am and Tigirs, and so on. He just associates women being around you with platonic love and comfort.

So when you leave him to go get some drinks at the bar, a fancy upper east side bar you've been begging to go to, he's too busy searching the room for potential men who approach you to notice the red haired woman beelining towards you. She bumps into you 'on accident', pink champagne spilling over the tip of the glass just a bit - a light splash on your jeans, but nothing too bad.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." she quickly says, grabbing a nearby napkin to hand it off to you. Coriolanus watches the interaction from the back of the club, the specifics of your conversation with her unintelligble over the loud music, but he doesn't think anything much of it. Even when the auburn haired woman's fingers brush against yours whilst exchanging the napkin.

He watches as you smile politely at her, probably telling her that it's okay, before turning around to the bartender to make an order. The woman next to you continues to talk to you through out the exchange, which again doesn't raise any red flags to Corio.

After all, women are very friendly by nature. It's normal that someone, especially a stranger who feels bad for spilling a drink on you, wants to continue to talk to you.

You don't think much of it either on your end, other than thinking that she - Clara, she tells you her name after a soft giggle - is very nice.

It's only when the drinks arrive and the woman stops you, lightly sitting you back down and brushing away the hair from your eyes, that Coriolanus starts feeling rather odd. The sudden wide eyes on your face and the red haired woman's smirk, before she slides you a piece of paper from her back pocket and lets you go, raises a lot of questions in his mind.

His top options? Something along the lines of bribery or illegal drugs. Or maybe she's using you to get something from him. Or maybe she wants something from your family.

What he doesn't expect, is for you to come back totally speechless, fingers deftly hanging onto the small piece of paper. You look somewhere between embarrassed and shocked, refusing to meet your boyfriend's eyes as you sit down next to him. He frowns at that, patting his lap instead.

Normally, you'd sit on his legs without a second thought. This time though, you hesitate.

"What'd she want? Drugs? Mone-" he growls, only to be cut off by the stranger.

"So you weren't lying. You do have a boyfriend." the red haired woman cuts into the conversation, now sitting on the velvet chair across from you. Coriolanus swears his jaw almost drops when the woman laughs seductively, winking at you whilst uncrossing her legs.

"You can sit on my lap instead, honey."

"I, you- I just-" Coriolanus starts speaking in an attempt to swear or scare her off, but his mind totally blanks.

You've never seen your boyfriend this flustered. His pale complexion breaks into a dark shade of red, his usually stern gaze darting back and forth between you and the woman, his speech stuttered and jumbled. It's YOU who ends up having the composure to let her down gently, holding out the paper with her phone number out towards her and informing her that you love your boyfriend very much and you're not that interested.

She pouts at that, and it makes your boyfriend's jaw clench so hard his face aches.

"Aw... alright, darling. But keep the paper. You know, just in case you wanna play."

With a wink and a hair flip, she disappears into the dark crowd of sweaty bodies and loud music. It's only then that your boyfriend snaps into action, taking the paper into his hands and shredding it to pieces.

"She called you darling." he snarls, angry. "Only I get to call you darling."

You just giggle, kissing away his sour expression, before tugging at his sleeves.

"Come on, forget about it. Let's just dance." you say, the alcohol in your veins still making you feel buzzed. He complies, never being able to say no to you, but the entire night, he can't help but hold you very close and glare at everyone who approaches you or even looks at you.

Regardless of their gender.

Now, he has to protect you from everyone, he thinks.

BONUS SCENARIO (later in the night)

You've had one too many drinks and yell into Coriolanus' ear that you really need to go to the bathroom. You clutch your handbag and stumble into the corridor, leaving your boyfriend alone by the bar. A stunning blonde woman slides into the empty seat next to him, glossy lips parting to ask a question.

Thinking she's going to hit on him, he raises his right hand, stopping her on the spot.

"I'm not interested, sorry."

The woman scoffs at that, ordering a tequila shot and almost glaring at him.

"Neither am I, genius. I was just wondering if you knew the name of the cutie who just went to the bathroom."

The moment you come back, he practically drags you out of the bar and hails a cab back to the apartment.

He's had enough of women trying to steal you from him. At least for that night.

a/n: hope you guys like this small type of blurbs too in between major fics hehe

#summer answers asks #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #thg x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #this took so long for me to answer im so sorry nonnie hopefully it is to your liking <3 #1k

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bangaveragewhitewine · 8 months

Text

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers) - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn.

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips).

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months.

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall.

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool.

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation.

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies.

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll.

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig.

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights).

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross.

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air.

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.”

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks.

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks.

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns, “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..”

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.”

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside.

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts.

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips.

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was.

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat.

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick.

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish.

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure.

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter.

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious.

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You��re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago.

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving.

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy.

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward.

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain.

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice.

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose.

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on.

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you.

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch.

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control.

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck.

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night.

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall.

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink.

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it.

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes.

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-”

As you take another sip, the door swings open.

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office.

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you.

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by.

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting.

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you.

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too.

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy.

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.”

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare.

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?”

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy.

I want to. What does that mean?

Eddie covers himself quickly.

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.”

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you.

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness.

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.”

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes.

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it.

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task.

“Very gentle,” he murmurs.

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth.

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other.

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards.

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?”

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight.

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass.

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body.

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt.

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much.

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.”

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.”

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught.

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night.

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness).

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself.

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?”

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition.

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise.

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine.

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.”

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.”

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.”

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.”

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad.

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live.

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.”

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline.

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.”

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working.

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.”

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.”

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand.

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?”

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs.

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door.

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks.

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean.

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you.

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie.

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola.

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him.

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip.

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.”

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger.

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.”

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew.

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him.

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes.

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.”

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer.

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too.

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little.

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.”

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink.

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime.

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside.

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently.

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee.

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.”

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.”

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real.

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary.

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out.

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering.

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door.

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door. “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car.

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on.

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place.

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both.

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head.

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone.

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case.

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne.

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.”

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you.

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.”

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.”

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on.

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain.

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting.

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag.

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off.

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.”

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm.

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours.

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning.

His smile makes your tummy flutter.

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening.

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..”

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks.

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful.

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong?

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly.

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary.

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you.

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?”

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive.

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue.

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat.

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too.

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever.

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word.

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder.

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real.

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp.

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too.

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere.

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again.

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth.

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?”

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper.

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.”

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek.

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.”

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did.

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes.

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way.

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms.

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break.

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again).

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement.

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson.

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time...

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door.

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager.

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley…

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car?

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief.

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?”

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself.

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter.

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.”

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip.

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over.

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close.

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car.

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.”

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.”

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt.

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine.

“Well then…” you say quietly.

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes.

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly.

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers.

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along.

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say.

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say.

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.”

“You should be so lucky.”

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss.

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this…

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops.

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8.

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through.

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?”

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat.

“You gonna behave?”

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key.

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass.

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected.

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?”

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath.

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way.

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again.

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on.

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself.

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green.

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter.

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn.

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again.

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?”

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.”

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?”

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing.

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…”

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance.

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there.

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip.

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges.

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap.

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?”

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him.

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips.

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you.

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise.

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat.

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes.

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight.

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath.

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one.

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time.

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him.

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more.

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.”

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle.

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace.

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.”

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand.

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..”

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!”

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?”

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts.

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction.

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes.

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…”

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny.

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press.

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak.

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit.

“Fuhhh- Eddie.”

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man.

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping.

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face.

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss.

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge.

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living.

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter.

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow.

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand.

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that.

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs.

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it.

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are.

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you.

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder.

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?”

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full.

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…”

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager.

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs.

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him.

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving.

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside.

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch.

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest.

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet.

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks.

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob.

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze.

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.”

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door.

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer.

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers.

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong.

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod.

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.”

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.”

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

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ashwhowrites · 9 days

Note

Can I request an Billy x reader x Eddie fic where either the three of them fight and then make up or Billy made Reader cry and Eddie got mad at him, and he then fixes it? I would love to see more of Mungrove x reader!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it!! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻Mungrove is getting very fun

2 boyfriends but 1 girlfriend

If there was anything that was a promise when dating Billy Hargrove, it was jealousy. Billy was popular with everyone. The boys idolized him, and the girls crawled at his feet. Billy was a loyal partner, Eddie and Y/N knew that. But Billy never was shy from the attention on him. He loved it. He loved being chased and all the girls swooning at his feet.

It didn't really bother Eddie. Eddie was never bothered by much, he shrugged everything off and moved on. He and Billy barely ever fought about it. But Y/N? She couldn't just shrug it off. It bothered her all the way into her skin and bones. Billy never saw the issue as it wasn't like he cheated. But to Y/N, being involved in flirting felt like cheating.

Saturday night meant date night. It turned out that having to compare three schedules was difficult. Billy always had basketball practice after school, Eddie had his campaign and band practice, and then Fridays were basketball games and singing gigs. But they all vowed that Saturdays would be their day.

It was late May and the weather was getting hot. Billy wanted to take a road trip off to the beach, so they did. The drive didn't feel that long once they pulled into the parking lot.

"We'll go grab a spot, and you unpack the car," Eddie said as he grabbed Y/N's hand. They ran through the hot sand and threw down their towels.

Y/N was basking in the sun as Eddie took dives in the water. She laughed behind her sunglasses as Eddie tried to do tricks for a rating. Usually, Billy would be with Eddie, both boys trying to one-up each other.

"I'M GONNA CHECK ON BILLY, DON'T DROWN," Y/N yelled as she stood up. Eddie gave her a thumbs-up before diving into the water once again. That boy loved to be in the water.

Y/N put on her sandals and began to walk towards the parking lot. She wasn't sure what took Billy so long, but she had a good feeling of why once she caught Billy with his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and his pearly whites on display.

Y/N walked up slowly, hearing Karen Wheeler flirting with her boyfriend. Billy was leaning close to her, making her laugh.

"Um, babe? You need any help with the stuff?" Y/N asked, she didn't want to sound rude or bitchy. She was more nervous and uncomfortable with the tight feeling in her stomach.

"Got it all handled, sweetie," Billy said, popping his gum. He didn't bother to look behind him at her, his eyes on Karen only.

"Eddie is starting his tricks and waiting for his competition." Y/N hinted she hoped he'd care enough to look at her this time.

"I'll be there in a minute," Billy said, his tone a little angry. Y/N gulped, she did not want to make him mad but she wanted time with her boyfriend.

"Will you be done soon? We've been here for thirty minutes and you know Saturday is o-" But Billy cut her off. He whipped around and his icy blue eyes glared at her.

"I said in a minute. I'm in the middle of a conversation, we have the whole godamn day for you to be on my ass." He snapped, and Y/N nodded. She bit her lip as she felt it tremble. Billy turned back to Karen and Y/N began to walk away. She sniffled as she tried to keep her tears back.

"Clingy one I see," Karen mocked, Billy let out a big laugh.

"You've got no idea."

Eddie was back on his towel when Y/N made it back, without Billy.

"Hey sweets, where's Billy? Does he need my help?" Eddie asked, pushing his sunglasses into his hair. He squinted as he looked over at Y/N.

"No, he's fine," Y/N said, her voice shaky as she sat on her towel.

Eddie frowned hearing her voice, he was quick to move his towel right next to her. His wet body against hers as he threw his arm over her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Eddie asked, he saw his reflection in her sunglasses as she turned to look at him.

"He's too busy to join us because of Karen Wheeler." Y/N sighed, but Eddie knew there was more.

"I'm sorry he's being a dick," Eddie said, his lips pressed against her shoulder.

"Do you think I'm...clingy?" Y/N asked, she pushed her sunglasses into her hair as she looked into Eddie's eyes. His frown deepened as he saw her watery eyes.

"Not at all! Why do you ask?"

"Karen made a comment about it, and Billy laughed and agreed. It hurts when he flirts with every girl that breathes. It makes me insecure. Why am I not pretty enough to keep him from looking at other girls? He never looks at other guys." Y/N ranted, salty tears ran down her cheek.

"Oh, darling. I can't make an excuse for his dumb actions. But I promise you, you are enough. You are pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, and everything more." Eddie said softly, he wiped away her tears.

"I'm going to swim for a bit." Y/N said, she gave Eddie a soft kiss then left to head into the water.

Eddie flicked down his sunglasses and went right after Billy.

Just like Y/N said, Billy was talking to Karen without a care in the world. Eddie walked up to the car and grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler.

He cut in between Karen and Billy. His back to Billy as he glared at Karen through his sunglasses. He handed her the water with a smirk. "Since you are so thirsty, here's water. Now beat it."

Billy chuckled from behind Eddie as Karen walked away.

"My oh my, someone is hot when they are jealous." Billy teased. Eddie turned around and flicked Billy in the forehead.

"I'm not jealous. I'm pissed off at your attitude towards Y/N." Eddie argued.

"I didn't have an attitude. I asked her to give me a minute." Billy defended. He finally grabbed the stuff from the car and began walking towards the beach.

"I don't give a shit if you asked. You ditched us on our date so you could talk with gross Mrs. Wheeler. You know I don't care about flirting because I know who's dick you'll be sucking on. But it's different with Y/N. She gets insecure and you make her upset." Eddie explained, helping his boyfriend carry everything down into the sand.

"Why is her being insecure my fault? We all knew I was popular with the ladies." Billy scoffed.

Eddie waited until Billy dropped everything on the sand before he punched his arm.

"What the hell!" Billy growled as he rubbed the sore spot.

"It's your fault because she doesn't think she's pretty enough to keep your eyes on just her. News flash Hargrove, if you want to soak in all the attention from the "ladies" then don't be in a relationship." Eddie said, another punch at Billy's other arm.

"DAMMIT!" Billy yelled as he felt another bruise forming.

"That's for making her cry. If you don't see what I see in her, then maybe she isn't meant to be yours, just mine." Eddie glared.

"What? You are gonna take her from me?" Billy questioned. He had to admit, the thought made his stomach hurt.

"No, but I'm going to stop trying to make you a good guy."

Billy sighed as he walked into the water. His eyes take in the gorgeous girlfriend of his. Her warm skin and the bright color of her bikini. Water dropped down her hair and created droplets that ran down her back.

She didn't turn around and he kept walking closer. Once he reached her he wrapped his arms around her waist.

His mouth was against her ear, as his chin rested on her shoulder. Her skin was warm from the sun.

"I talked to Eddie. And I'm really sorry I upset you." Billy said softly, he squeezed her body as the waves brushed against his legs.

"It's whatever, Billy. I'll get over it like I always do." Y/N sighed. She groaned when Billy turned her around, now face to face as she held back her tears.

"No, I mean it this time. I'm done with the games and the flirting. Eddie and I don't see it as a big deal, but it means something to you. It hurts you and makes you question yourself. Which I never want you to do. I've been a dick and not appreciating you the way I should be. I'm incredibly lucky to have you as a girlfriend. " Billy kissed her neck, and she tried not to melt.

"My sexy and gorgeous girlfriend," more kisses, "who puts up with me when she shouldn't have to," more kisses, "loves me when I don't deserve it," more kisses, "and truly the only woman I'll ever love." The final kiss landed on her lips and she happily kissed back. Her arms were thrown over his shoulders as his tongue moved inside her mouth.

"Can you forgive me?" Billy whispered against her lips. His blue eyes were nervous and guilty.

"Yes but I swear you flirt with one more girl and I'm going to have Eddie truly kick your ass."

"He wishes, baby." Billy chuckled before kissing her again. His hands landed on her ass as his tongue entered her mouth once again.

"Great. Now I got a hard on." Eddie groaned as he used Billy's towel to cover his swim shorts.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x female reader #billy Hargrove x eddie munson x female reader #mungrove x female reader #ashwhowrites

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

Breakfast fluff

G. Satoru — さとる

NOTE : pls ignore errors i have neither slept nor proofread this 👍 i'm just craving breakfast so bad rn which is funny considering i hate cooking breakfast lol

SUMMARY — waking up to Gojo making breakfast and fussing over the kids on a typical Sunday

CONTENT — domestic fluff, just a wholesome morning with hubby Gojo

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

It's a very early morning. The sunlight through the sheer curtains is soft. You take your time getting out of bed, soaking up the enjoyable softness of the blankets and pillows. Though you're quick to miss the warmth that you usually wake up to. Blinking awake and going into the bathroom, Satoru hears the soft thumping of your footsteps down the hallway and smiles to himself.

Satoru's not usually an early riser, in fact he usually stays in bed with you and locks an arm around your waist when you try to leave. But it's a Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings were special. Because it became a tradition to go down to the bustling market, clutching the week's savings in his hand, and buy thick bacon and eggs. The freshest kind.

You and Satoru were living in a bare bones apartment with sparse money, as two young "parents" with three tots under your wings. Somehow, you two made it work, even though there were struggles you smiled through them and never strayed from each other's sides. He'd often work the night shift, and come home at ungodly hours so tired that he melted into your body like a sick child, aching for your affectionate touch.

While you lazily carry out your morning routine in the other room, the kids crowd around Satoru as he stands in the kitchen — trying desperately to balance the chaos of entertaining Yuji, Nobara and Megumi while simultaneously cooking up breakfast.

And he cooks breakfast with such meticulousness. He considers it an art form. There's a remarkable swiftness in the way that he wields a kitchen knife to cut the bacon block into strips, and a talent in the way he cracks open eggs with one hand.

" Nobara, Yuji, what are you yelling about ? "

A little voice whined, " Nobara bit me ! "

" Nobara, don't bite Yuji. " Satoru lectured softly, eyes focused on the food cooking in the pan.

" I only did it because he tried to take your sweeties out of the pantry, dad ! " she reasoned.

" Don't eat my sweeties Yuji, you can have some later today — smell this ? Daddy's cooking up yummy breakfast so don't spoil your appetite, okay. You're gonna love it. "

The bacon and eggs crackle and pop in the oiled pan, sometimes so loudly that it makes Megumi jump in fright.

" Gumi, don't stand too close to the skillet. " Satoru warns, placing a hand on his head of messy bed hair and ruffling it, causing it to look even more unruly.

A steamy breakfast aroma wafts down the hallway and satisfyingly fills your lungs. You can hear the four of them chattering and Satoru's interspersed mini-lectures.

You look at them from the doorframe, Yuji and Nobara run out the other way into the interleading sitting room.

" Who's that peering 'round the corner ? " Satoru playfully teases, his voice bringing you warmth.

" Maaa. " Megumi groans and trots over to you, giving you as big of a hug as his little body could manage.

You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing up the mess that Satoru's previous ruffling caused — as usual.

And he flashes a look behind him at you, winking like a cheeky flirt. His smile is so big because of how purely happy the sight of you makes him; especially with that bleary-eyed morning face. You look so cozy, it makes his heart lurch to see you wearing his oversized t-shirt.

" Hey ! You didn't give me a morning hug ! " Satoru pouts and complains to his son.

Megumi groans. With a small encouragement from you, he quickly dives in for a rushed and almost shy hug. His arms wrap around Satoru's legs. And like the menace your husband is, he ruffles Megumi's hair to ruin again — making the boy groan annoyedly and break the hug.

" Ugh, daaad stop. Mom just fixed my hair. " Megumi grimaced, promptly running away when Satoru smiled down at him evilly — because that smile was the one he made before going in for tickles. And tickles from Satoru? They were devastating, truly.

So little footsteps thump out of the kitchen and the two loud voices that have been sounding from the sitting room become three loud voices. You notice how Megumi's accent takes after Satoru's rather than yours, and it warms your heart.

You approach the stressed, apron-clad chef and immediately he turns around to engulf you in an energetic kiss and embrace.

" You're burning the bacon, dad. " you giggle, face squishing into his torso.

" NOOO — shitshitshit. " he mutters under his breath, lips tingling from that tasty kiss he just snatched off your lips.

" Language, 'Toru. " you murmur at him, arms wrapping around his slim waist. You give him butterflies and then he loses all composure, causing a burnt disaster in the pan. The eggs are crusted brown, the bacon is glitterring as it sizzles a deep color.

Automatically, you go around the kitchen collecting and preparing plates and cutlery for the meal. The clang and clash of plastic reminds you that today is a big deal; you and Satoru were going to go out and use the rest of your weekly savings on new kitchenware.

Stopping for a moment to amire the attractive view of your husband's physique from behind, while he rather chaotically shovels the cooked contents of the pan out onto the serving plate that you slide next to him.

" Ah the bacon is saved. . . " he breathes in relief.

The sizzling food finds its home on plates. Satoru steals a quick kiss.

And then another. And another and another until the two of you zone out for a moment and feel like you're just two teenagers again, stealing lovey dovey kisses on your way to morning classes, of course his lips always caused you to be you late to everything back then.

But before you and Satoru can completely intertwine like lovers, there's the common interrruption of Yuji's wailing coming from the sitting room. You and your husband exchange those parental sighs and smiles, before you head into the other room to fix the little commotion. Poor Yuji complains to you through teary eyes that Nobara bit him "for being annoying" and Megumi is just wandering back into the kitchen to help his dad serve up breakfast without him even needing to be asked. He was just a sweet boy like that.

And it's a good meal. One that hits all the spots. You wish you could have more, even though Satoru did put from his plate onto yours throughout the meal. It's a caring habit of his that you never realize until after you've devoured everything. You pay him thanks with a tasty kiss, and he smiles into it like he always does.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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normansnt · 3 months

Text

The Prince

(Alastor x prince of hell!reader)

"HOLLLLYYY FUCKING SHIT (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER WE ARE VISITING CHARLIEEEE" yelled your dad while bursting into your room.

You looked up at your dad startled.

"Thats great, but why are you yelling?" You asked while raising your eyebrow.

"BECAUSE WE ARE GOING NOW COME OOONNN" he continued yelling while taking your hand and dragging you out of your room and off you guys were to the Hazbin Hotel.

When you arrived your dad almost run in before you told him to tone it down he is still the king of hell who has to keep up a certain image.

This was your relationship in a nutshell. You were not at all like your father and older sister. You were calm and collected and were there to calm them down. And why you stuck with your dad? Because he was broken after your mother left and you kind of got stuck being his mental support.

You never blamed Charlie for leaving you had the chance you do that as well but you decided to stay.

Your dad entered the hotel and immediately hugged Charlie. You just calmly walked in after him.

"OOOHHHHHH YOU BROUGHT (Y/N)" yelled Charlie as well excitedly and gave you the same bone crushing hug your dad gave her earlier.

"Yeah...'m here...sis....cant...breathe" you tried to get a sentence out.

"OH yeah of course sorry"

"Its fine Im happy to see you Charlie" you smiled at her while dusting your button up shirt.

After this encounter Charlie introduced you to the rest of the residents including her girlfriend, who you were delighted to meat since Charlie always rented about her when you guys would talk.

But of course your dad managed to make that encounter awkward as well to which you just sighed a little.

Unbeknownst to you a certain radio demon had his eyes on you from the moment you entered. It was one thing that your attire was something he himself would wear and it suited your figure perfectly, quite old fashioned just like he liked it, but when he saw that seemingly you were the distinguished one in the family you have won his interest.

The way you held yourself with a straight back chin up, truly befitting a prince. He noticed that you seem to either calm down or hint to your father on how to act. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"And this here-" started Charlie nearing the stairs where Alastor appeared. "-oh, this is Alastor our beloved building manager"

"Its a pleasure to meet you sir quite the pleasure" said Alastor while shaking Lucifers hand and wiping it in his coat after.

Not paying a second more of his attention on your father he looked immediately to you.

"And this magnificent creature is the prince of hell himself I'm sure" he said while taking your hand and softly kissing your knuckles.

Your face got a bit read while he straightened back up eye contact never leaving.

"I am, it is a pleasure to meet you sir, I quite enjoy your radio podcast" you managed to get out after re-gaining your composure.

What you said was true, though. You enjoyed his brodcast, his voice, and interestingly enough your taste in music was similar, the jazz part at least.

Alastors eyes lit up at that.

"Indeed? Well I'm honored the prince of hell himself enjoys what I do, and please do call me Alastor." he smiled at you and took one of your hands in both of his while you guys just stared at each other.

"Should we do something ooor...?" Whispered angel to Husk.

However the cat was to stunned to speak. He has never seen Alastor act like this with anyone before. The radio demon was literally flirting with the prince of hell.

"WOOOOWWW ooookkkkk nononono lemme just...squeeze in here" said your father while standing between you and Alastor which was almost impossible thats how close you two stood to each other but he managed.

"If you don't mind I believe my daughter was about to show us the hotel so see ya later" said your dad hastily while pushing you away from the overlord.

"Oh, no, we built the hotel together we should show it together, right Charlie?" Grinned Alastor at the princesse

"...Ok"

"I wouldn't mind at all to show the lovely little prince around" he smiled at you and offered you his arm which you gladly took.

All this while Lucifer was glaring daggers at Alastors back as you two walked off chatting happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WOOOOOOWWWW LOOK AT ME POSTING AGAIN YEAAHHHHH WHAT CAN I SAY I HAVE A PROBLEM

And you bitches too I literally uploaded my Hazbin Hotel posts minutes ago and yall are eating it up already.

I mean ofc thank you sm for all the love (🥹🧡) but DAMN yall good? Anyone need a therapist?

Haha, just kidding...we all do.

ANYWAAAYSSS

I HAVE SOOO MANY MORE IDEAS AND I CANT WAIT TO WRITE THEM AND SHARE THEM WITH YOU GUYS.

I'm also thinking about writing a pt.2 for this so lemme know if yall would be interested😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and goodnight🧡🦖

#male reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

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pshaven · 4 months

Note

how would jay express his jealously when he noticed you with another guy?

jay needs more love on my blog so i'm here to deliver!! (mdni)

jay thinks he has such a good pokerface when he sees other guys and girls flirting with you. he imagines that he has such a stoic expression, only occasionally sparing you glances to make sure that the person isn't crossing any lines.

but he's the exact opposite.

his jaw is clenched, brows knitting together as his lips are pressed into a tight line. he's clearly angry to anyone in the room, and they know exactly why he is with the way his eyes are only focusing on you and the guy that's starting to get a little too touchy with you.

that's his last straw, pushing himself off the table that he's leaned against to go over to you, a hand placed firmly on your lower waist. he gives the guy an awkward chuckle, the jealousy starting to cloud his thoughts. he doesn't even properly introduce himself as your boyfriend, he just pinches the side of your hip and you yelp, meeting his cold-stoned, narrow eyes.

you think he's kinda cute like this. it's not like jay has any problem or issue expressing his emotion and love for you, but it's rare to see him get to worked up around you since you're often his safe place to relax. you grin and giggle at him, looking at the guy that was previously flirting with you.

you reach to cup jay's face, pulling him down for a heated kiss that clears up jay's cloudy and jealous mind, melting into your lips. the both of you open your eyes mid-kiss, looking at the guy and he scurries off awkwardly, shaking his head as he walks away.

safe to say that when the both of you get back home, you show him that you belong to him, and only him<3.

"mmph!" you moan into the pillow, arching your back further as jay slides into your slick cunt, a groan escaping his lips. he relishes in the warmth of your pussy sucking him in, his hips starting to move on their own.

"promise you won't entertain those guys anymore?" he hums tauntingly, his chest meeting the arch of your back and you nod into the pillow enthusiastically.

"yes! yes, i promise, promise, jay!" you squeal out as his hips begin to pick up its force and pace, his pelvic bone meeting the flesh of your ass.

but you both know that you'll do it again, if it meant you'd get a good fuck like this again.

or ...

close family childhood bestfriend jay who immediately stands up straighter when you come home and bring someone with you who he's never seen before. you introduce him as your boyfriend, but jay doesn't miss the way the guy next to you give you a weird look when you say that.

he confronts you when the two of you are alone, and you say that he's really just a boy you're talking to, no official labels but you said boyfriend to make things seem less complicated.

and jay doesn't like it one bit. how can someone not commit to you? you are a treasure to behold, and anyone would be blessed to be able to call themselves your partner.

you can already see the thoughts running through jay's head, knowing that he already disapprove of this guy. you sigh, placing a hand comfortingly on his knee, "don't worry about me."

how can he not worry about you? he doesn't want to see his favorite girl get heartbroken by some loser guy who doesn't deserve to make you cry in the long run.

he's immediately possessive of you, claiming the only seat next to you when it comes to dinner time. the boy you brought with you gives you a look, but jay smiles pridefully and engages in conversation with your mother, ignoring your so-called boyfriend.

the two of you get into a fight that same night in your room, your situationship saying that he felt left out of your family and that jay is obviously crushing on you. you both exchange shouts and accusations, and jay is on the other side in the hallway, listening in.

he hears your door click open, the guy walking out and spotting jay standing right in front. jay gives him another grin, waving a little goodbye before saying, "you didn't deserve her, anyway."

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen jay #jay smut #jay x reader #park jongseong #park jay #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #kpop smut

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revasserium · 3 months

Note

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

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punkeccentricenigma · 8 months

Text

Rise!Boys accidentally confess their love to Reader.

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

TW: Slight angst for Raph's part, Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: Just enjoy lol.

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

Leonardo

◇ Ever since Leo realized his feelings, his casual demeanor towards [Y.N] had turned into almost aggressively flirting.

◇ Despite not wanting to rush into confessing his feelings, he was practically a simp for that person..

◇ But he also teased them often, of course, not on a seriously offensive level. Just light pokes and prods.

◇ I'm sure he bragged to anyone about his not-yet relationship with [Y.N].

"Oh, and I recently won a unicorn plushie for them, and they were really delighted! WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER!"

"Pepino, get the hell out of here."

◇ Just as Donatello had enough of his (non-)twin, he now wanted to dig a hole to hell and throw him in there to finally get some rest.

◇ Anyway, the accidental confession happened one night when neither he nor [Y.N] could sleep.

◇ They were sending each other various memes through Discord in bulk. This boosted his confidence even more, leading to him typing 'I love you.'

◇ Of course, he hadn't sent it yet; his mind was suddenly filled with not-so-good thoughts. What if they don't feel the same? What if they laugh at him?? Or something worse?!

◇ Despite his persona, the boy was full of insecurities, from his looks to his personality, but with them... he felt good about himself.

◇ But would such a confession be too simple? The boy decided to wait at least one day before confessing his love.

◇ But fate said 'nuh-uh,' and his phone fell on Leo's face, causing panic. Due to his carelessness, he held the device wrong, resulting in the accidental sending of the ill-fated message.

"No, no, no, NO!" His voice trembled as he tried to delete the message immediately. Unfortunately, the app froze to his disadvantage. "Damn it!"

◇ When he managed to reopen the app, there was a new message.

◇ "... You are not joking, right?"

◇ This night would last even longer than a turtle had anticipated.

Raphael

◇ I think it happened during the attack on their home by Shredder. Absolute chaos, a storm of emotions, the perfect situation for an imperfect love confession.

◇ "Raph, have you lost your mind?!" [Y.N] began, full of outrage. "Why didn't you let me stay? Splinter and Draxum need help!"

The turtle furrowed his brow bones, looking down at the shorter person with regret. "It was the only way, I'm sure they'll handle it."

"And what if they don't? What if they needed our help right now?"

◇ No matter how advanced [Y.N]'s combat skills were, Raphael was even more opposed to the idea.

◇ "Nothing will happen to them!" Raphael raised his voice, as if trying to convince not only the teenager but himself. "And stop arguing with me; I'm the leader here, and I make the decisions!"

"Damn it, I don't understand you! I could handle it, and you would have more time to plan; I'm not needed here!!"

◇ Just a reminder, everyone present was watching this argument.

◇ "Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"You are! I don't want to lose you like Gram Gram; I love you too much!" His angry red face suddenly turned shocked. Oh, oh. Did he really just say that??

◇ His dark eyes met the teenage counterpart's. Their whole face was red, and their determination to sacrifice themself slowly faded from their eyes.

"... Fine," [Y.N] muttered and sat down in the seat next to Michelangelo.

◇ When all this chaos is over, they'll have to talk, this time more calmly.

Donatello

◇ Donnie has a need to be as organized as possible, so before suggesting anything, he has to plan everything out and make sure that any confession of feelings will go perfectly.

◇ Of course, he had a large folder with potential scenarios that could happen before and after the confession. It had a bit of a vibe from his previous reincarnation, but much less scary and obsessive - he simply felt strong discomfort without preparation.

◇ Leo likes to tease him about it, by the way.

◇ Anyway, there was one situation the boy didn't anticipate. One night, he had been working on another invention all night, aimed at stealing another battery from the Purple Dragons, and in the morning, he fell asleep at his desk, or rather, he was half-unconscious.

◇ "Dee, come to bed." Raphael's voice echoed through the lab, gently shaking the sleepy Soft-shell's naked shoulder. In response, he got some sluggish syllables and a hiss. "You can't sit here like this; it's not healthy." "And sitting here all night is unhealthy enough," he added quietly.

"Get lost..." That's all the turtle understood. Raph rolled his eyes and moved away from his brother a bit.

"I'm not going to struggle; I'm sleep-deprived myself," the red-loving enthusiast said, picking up his phone.

◇ And so [Y.N] appeared in the lair, as the ultimate weapon.

◇ "Donnie! Get up! Lie down in bed!" The teenager themself was not well-rested, considering the early hour, but they tried not to sound irritated. Donnie mumbled something again and straightened up in his chair.

"Raphaello, leave me alone," Donnie started, putting his hands on the keyboard. Apparently, he had no intention of opening his eyes. "I still need to make a few changes to the code..."

"Wait, do you think I'm Raph??" [Y.N] asked in surprise, pointing at themself. Did their voice really sound so manly and deep?? Since when??

"And you're talking in the third person again; I've told you that it's no longer fashionable." Donnie tried not to hit his head against the desk even a little, wanting to at least be somewhat awake. The human wanted to say something, correct him, but gave up with a certain idea in their mind.

◇ they had noticed strange aspects of their friend's behavior lately. He was more open to their, often grabbing their hand or hugging their despite his usual aversion to it, he made various devices for their that made quite an impression on their... there had to be something to it!

◇ "Hey, buddy," the human leaned lazily against the desk, trying their best to mimic the speech style of the oldest of the brothers. "Do you, you know, have something going on with our best, most wonderful human friend??"

"You mean April?" Ouch, that hurt, even though [Y.N] felt the same way. "She's our almost-sister, Raph, yuck."

◇ "Oh, no! [Y.N], I meant [Y.N]!" The teenager corrected themself, slightly annoyed. It was weird.

"What about them? I already told you." No! Not like that!

"Ahahah, you know I have a bad memory when I'm not stressed!"

"Mh..." Pause. Did they say something wrong? Donatello is overly smart; he should figure out what's wrong! How will they explain this? "Everything's fine; my plan will be initiated in half a year at the latest." Plan? What plan??

"Plan...?"

"Rendezvous plan, duh," Donnie replied, resting his head on his hand. "I know you advised against it, but I can't do it differently. I need everything to be tip-top before I confess my feelings to them."

◇ "..."

◇ "Raph...?"

◇ [Y.N] remained silent, trying to control their sudden heartbeat and their face turning as red as a strawberry.

Michelangelo

◇ Playing the role of Dr. Delicate Touch, the boy knew perfectly well what he felt and wanted to confess his love, but the natural fear of rejection also got to him.

◇ He wanted to think this all through. He wanted to do it as smoothly and charmingly as possible, but not in a way that made it seem like he didn't care. He didn't want to throw such important words to the wind!

◇ His artist's soul played a significant role here. Every time he felt great, he had to sketch something related to love.

◇ Just woke up from a fantastic dream? He had to quickly grab his sketchbook and sketch [Y.N] in a floral wreath.

◇ He was on patrol and saw their favorite cafe? He started sketching the teenager drinking coffee in the nearby sand with his finger, taking a picture of it as a keepsake.

◇ Spending quality time with [Y.N]? He convinced them to start painting each other with his favorite markers, and under the pretext of light fun, he drew orange hearts on their cheeks.

◇ It was all fun until there was an 'accident' during one of the previously mentioned activities.

◇ So, Mikey and [Y.N] were in his new room after Shredder's attack, and he needed help with some unique decoration.

◇ "Wait, isn't that a neon banner from the nearby store??" The teenager asked, pointing at the mentioned thing, peeking out from behind the boy.

"I neither confirm nor deny it!" Mikey laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "You have to admit it fits perfectly."

"Mhm, but I doubt you'll fall asleep with this," [Y.N] said skeptically, picking up one of the cardboard boxes that contained a surplus of notebook-like items. "Where does this go?"

"Oh! Just put it next to the cabinet; I'll put them in the drawers in a sec."

The human nodded, and as they took a few more steps, they tripped over the cables lying on the floor. they fell to the ground with a squeak, dropping the box less than half a meter in front of them.

"Are you okay??" The orange-loving enthusiast quickly ran to his friend, helping them get up as they groaned in pain.

"Yeah, I think so..." Their voice trailed off, surprising Mikey, who followed their gaze.

◇ His pupils immediately narrowed upon seeing an open sketchbook with many drawings and sketches of [Y.N], with a predominant theme of love.

"Mikey...?"

"IT'S NOTHING!" The teenager shouted, hastily picking up the sketchbook from the floor and pressing it against his plastron.

◇ Their faces both turned equally red with excessive thinking.

◇ Oops.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt x y/n #rottmnt x you #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie x reader #rise leo x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise raph x reader #rottmnt x reader #Headcanons #x reader

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luvyeni · 1 year

Note

hii! hope you're doing fine!!

if you feel comfortable can u write mean hard dom hyunjin or jeno or even both together (just if u write threesome/poly) where he/them gets jealous with lots of dirty talk... please? and if u want u can add more things to it! but just ignore this if u feel uncomfortable with the request !

also just found out your blog and im loving it, you do an amazing job! ^^

MINE ONLY; LEE JENO

pairings. boyfriend!jeno x fem!reader

wc. 1.2k

warnings. meandom!jeno (like really mean), established relationship, rough sex, choking, degradation, name calling (slut (more than the others), cock drunk whore, princess and good girl), oral (m. receiving, hair pulling, unprotected sex, small size kink, manhandling. whoa that's alot.

i hope you like it💓! i did just jeno because im still working on how to be better at writing poly/threesomes.

jeno is tired of telling you nicely to stop being too friendly with mark, he let you get away with it to long

—

"you're being ridiculous." jeno had to close his eyes and breath to keep himself grounded as you kicked your shoes off, walking into your apartment. like a big fuck you to his face, really.

"it's just mark." you made your way to your room. "i don't care if it's 'just mark', were all over him, i've told you at least 6 times to stop doing it." the way you rolled your eyes set something off in jeno.

"my god jeno stop fucking whin-mmph! " the wind had been knocked clean out of you by jeno's hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly. "who are you talking to?" he practically growled in your ear. "your mouth is gonna get you into some serious trouble."

you wanted to say something back, but to be honest, you were a bit floored with the way he spoke— it turned you on to the max.

"look at you." he scoffed, looking at your stunned face. "say a few words and suddenly a cat has your tongue, is that what it takes to shut a slut like you up." the whine that came out your mouth unwillingly told jeno everything he needed to know.

"fucking slut is turned on." he rolled his eyes. "i guess that's the only way im gonna get it through to your dumb little brain, if i fuck it into you?" he squeezed a little more. "i asked you a question."

"y..yes." you breathed.

"of course slut— okay i understand now." he released your neck. "get on your fucking knees then." your brain was so fuzzy, you could barely understand what he was saying. "huh?"

"are you dumb? get on your fucking knees." he grabbing your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. "look at you so ready to take my cock like a slut." the way he looked down to you, his dark low eyes. it made another gush of arousal in your panties. "take it out yourself."

you way you scrambled to undo his jean, pulling them down, taking out his cock had jeno laughing at you. "so fucking eager to suck my cock, but can't listen when i tell you to stop flirting with my friends." he growled. "jerk me off, get me hard so i can fuck your throat, finally get you to stop running that fucking mouth of yours."

you used both your hands to get him hard, the precum leaking from his tip had you drooling. "fuck move your hand." he gathered your hair, making a makeshift ponytail, using his other hand to grab his cock, he tugged at his cock twice, slapping it against your lips. "tap my thigh if it's too much." you nodded and he gripped your hair even tighter, sliding his cock in your mouth, groaning in pleasure. "fuck- your mouth feels good."

you reached up to grab what you couldn't fit, and he yanked your hair, pulling you off, the look in his eyes made your pussy throb. "i said i was gonna fuck your throat didn't i slut? don't fucking touch me." he slid back into your mouth, pushing your head all the way down to his pubic bone, you swallowed around his cock. "good slut." he pulled out once more, before thrusting in. "take it down your throat."

he started thrusting, the noises from your mouth mad him go faster, soon he was ruining your throat with his cock. "t..that's ri..right- shit! - ran your fucking mouth so much, look at you now, that's all it took to shut you up? my cock in your mouth."

he continued his assult on your throat, your gagging and moaning around his cock pushing him father to his orgasm. "f..fuck! im cumming, im gonna cum down your throat, and you're gonna take it like a good slut- shit take it! " he thrusted two more times before coating your throat with him cum. "fuck!" he pulled his cock out slowly, last bit of cum coating your lips.

"my pretty slut, lips covered in my cum, all teary eyed and messy." he released your hair. "you okay?" you coughed a bit, nodding your head. "y..yes." your voice a bit sore from moments before.

"good cause im not done with you." he grabbed your arm, pulling you off the floor. "ass up, now." he pushed you on to the bed, getting rid of the rest of his clothes. "gonna fuck you like the slut you are."

he climbed on the bed, slotted himself right behind you, his still hard cock rubbing against your clothed ass. "this is what you want slut? my cock buried in your pussy, is that why you were almost humping my fucking shoe like a bitch in heat?" he slapped your ass, your body jolting forward.

"fuck! y...yes jeno!" you screamed. "of course you do." he flipped your skirt up, running his finger up your clothed slit. "soaked your fucking panties just from sucking my cock, and grinding on shoe?" he slapped your ass again, you let out another yelp. "or was it for mark? huh slut?" he gripped your hair, pulling your head back. "answer my fucking question!"

"y..you j..jeno, all for you!" he released your head. "good slut." he slid your panties down your legs, throwing them with his pile of clothes. "so soaked, i don't even have to prep you." he pressed his cock to your twitching heat. "slide- s..shit- slid right in." he pushed all the way into you.

jeno wasn't a small guy so it was a lot to take in. "fuck!" you screamed in pleasure. "s..so b..big." he smirked, slapping your ass thrusting. "fucking pussy choking my cock- s..shit." his hips snapped against your ass, your arms feeling like jello as you try to hold yourself up.

"i can fuck you like a cock drunk whore if want, don't need to ask anybody else to do it."

your mind was somewhere else, mouth open but nothing came out but bunch of moans and his names, he laughed at your state, going down to your ear.

"nobody can get you like this, no one will ever be able to turn your brain into mush like this, not mark, not anybody, you understand me?" he whispered, voice triggering your orgasm. "j..jeno, i..im- answer my question baby, do you understand me?"

"y..yes." you moaned, your body was weak, and all you wanted now was to cum. "go a head and cum." he reached in between your legs rubbing your clit. "cum for me."

with a scream of his name so loud that you'll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors, you violently came around his cock. "s..shit princess." he trusted into you, his cum coating your insides, your orgasm had triggered his. "fuck." he carefully pulled out, cum leaking out of you. "keep it inside you, like a good girl." he pushed it back into your shaking body.

you struggled to keep your eyes open, so exhausted. "close your eyes love, i got you." and with that sleep took over.

your eyes fluttered opened to a smiley jeno, completely different from whoever just fucked you. "you with me baby? you were sleep for a while." you were now laying in his arms; clean, blanket pulled over your body. "im fine." your voice was gone. "i guess i was a bit rough wasn't i?" his ears were red, he could've been the guy who just fucked you, you laughed. "what so funny?" he kissed your forehead.

"you're all shy now, nothing like the guy from before." he laughed, pulling you closer into his chest.

"had to let my princess know that she's mine and mine only"

©️LUVYENI

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ferida-kahlo · 9 months

Text

♡ Hotline ♡

Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.

Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.

Word count: 3.8k

Read below the cut OR on AO3

Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄

For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.

Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…

… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.

“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.

Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.

Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.

Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.

Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.

You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.

He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”

You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.

“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”

“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.

“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.

“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.

You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…

You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.

“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.

“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.

“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.

He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”

You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”

“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”

“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.

“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.

“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.

“That fucking sucks”.

“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.

“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.

It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.

The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.

“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.

“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.

“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”

With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.

There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.

You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.

“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”

“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.

“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”

“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.

“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?

Wait. Is he…?

You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”

A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.

“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”

“You know… freeing the junk.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.

“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”

You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”

A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.

“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.

Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”

“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.

“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.

“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.

Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.

Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.

In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.

He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.

It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.

“… Mike? Are you still there?”

It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-

Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.

You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”

“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.

You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”, he laughs along.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.

“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah?”, you whisper.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”

Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.

A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.

You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”

His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.

“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”

“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”

“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”

The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.

“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.

He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”

“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”

“Yeah? What kinds of things?”

“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.

“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.

You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”

“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.

Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”

He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”

You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.

“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”

You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…

“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”

“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.

You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.

“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.

“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.

You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”

At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.

“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.

“Mikey- fuck!”.

Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.

A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.

He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.

You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.

“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”

You notice a shift in his voice.

“Yeah… what is it?”

“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”

You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.

“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.

“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”

“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.

“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.

After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.

#smut #michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto #mike berzatto x reader #mike berzatto #jon bernthal #the bear #the bear fx #the bear fic

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months

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Brainrot Drabbles: Needy!M6

~ happy valentine's day :) ~

Needy!Julian who finally, finally has someone in his life who is able and willing to fill that gaping hole in his chest that needs to be loved. Asking you for the comfort of a hug, a kiss, a cuddle, a scrap of your attention, and surprised when you're more than happy to give it to him. Looking at you with wide open eyes filled with awe and asking in a hushed voice if he could have just a little bit more. A closer hug. A second kiss. Five more minutes of cuddles or conversation, simply because you're happy to give them to him and he needs that from you so desperately. Needy!Julian who can't stop himself from brokenly whispering "again, please -" between each gentle kiss you press to his face.

Needy!Asra who is terrified of needing anything at all, avoiding their desire to feel their love finally requited by teasing and flirting their way through the day. Halting with fear when he feels your bond with him resonating and sees the look on your face when you approach him. Freezing when you wrap your arms around them, their own expression working with all the intensity of finally being able to call you their home. Slowly exhaling as his head falls to your shoulder and he holds you close, close enough to lose himself in your heartbeat, close enough for all the walls between you to vanish. Needy!Asra who prolongs every intimate moment they have with you, finally learning the sweet fulfillment of receiving love after years of giving.

Needy!Nadia who finds it easier to hide her need underneath her boldness, pulling you into her lap as though to reassure you when it's really to feel the weight of you on her thighs. Suggesting you take a break, you look tired, when her heart is yearning for your grounding presence and the calm sound of your sleepy breathing. Struggling to hold up her cool facade when her need for you becomes too great, and she enters the rare state of mind when she wants to be held and cared for, for once. Needing first the outlet to pour all of her hidden, ferocious love onto you, and then the reassurance of lying cherished in your arms. Needy!Nadia who wants to bare herself to you, flaws and all, and feel you match her intensity.

Needy!Muriel who's so used to going without that he's forgotten how to ask for what he craves. From warmth, to shelter, to food, to safety, to connection - these are all things that you've heralded back into his life, and his slow acceptance of them does not keep up with his human need for them. Uneasy at the sudden bone-deep hunger for the next quiet moment he can share with you, the next tidbit of information he can learn about you, the next warm smile he can receive from you, the next safe touch that sweetly weakens him to you. Needy!Muriel whose sunrise happens when your eyes open, slowly sitting next to you with a heartbeat so strong you can see it, only meeting your eyes for a brief second of want.

Needy!Portia who keeps subconsciously expecting to be brushed off, being touchy and clingy and fussing over you only to stare at you wide eyed when you return the love. Expecting you to find something more interesting to look at any second, speaking a mile a minute while she still has your attention and faltering when you're still listening. Feeling the sweetest, heaviest ache in her chest when you don't break eye contact or change the conversation subject because where has this been all her life? Slowly crushing you closer in a disbelieving bear hug, telling herself over and over that she can take her time with you, you're staying with her. Needy!Portia who can't go more than five seconds without touching you, because you're there.

Needy!Lucio who never hesitates to take what he needs, and is surprised when you manage to meet them so easily. Snatching you around the waist when he's seized with unease, and then being caught off guard by just how quickly a simple hug from you makes him feel safe. Pulling you behind a tree to make out when he's starting to feel cold and alone and forgotten again, and stunned into silence when your first gentle peck is enough to warm him to his fingertips. Demanding that you pay attention to him for his next impressive trick, before realizing you were already watching him do nothing but walk. Needy!Lucio, tangling himself into your space only to watch you in wonder as he experiences satisfaction.

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana fanfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson #ask arcana brainrot

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al1fers-haven · 21 days

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What do you think about Adam and Mammon smitten with a darling sinner?

Maybe she has a contract with mammon so he's close to her but Adam only came to know about her when Charlie pulled her as a perfect example of a redeeming sinner in the meeting in heaven

Imagine getting the attention of both pricks right

This is going to be in headcannons because I wouldn't know how to start this, I hate mammon but ADAM? Anything with him I will gladly do. (Still a wonderful idea though :) )

When Charlie had thrown you up on that big ol orb inside of the council to say Adam was a bit baffled was an understatement

Lute totally had to hit his shoulder to get him to refocus...

you were a sinner who was allowed outside of the ring surprisingly, probably against Lucifer's wishes but you did have a contract with the big clown guy. Who was practically all over you.

you had a close-knit relationship with Mammon, both loving and hating the attention he gave you as his 'little sinner star', treating you more like a prized possession than anything else but it was good enough for you to realize he was probably flirting

He wasn't good at it, constantly belittling you as a pick-up line? It was a bit awful.

you probably work as a clown, or something celebrity-like. Maybe a singer or something?

He works you to the bone, but then he takes you out for dinner at his place and coos down at you like you are a baby.

Adam is definitely a little confused on how someone so pretty is in hell, usually the people he sees that are hellborns are either ugly or not his type but it seems you fit both of those categories.

Now...you were a sinner so he had to be careful IF he was going to see you, but since you are outside of the ring Lucfer has been letting them in, he can't really visit like he wants to.

Totally started gushing about you to lute , she just has to sit there and deal with it.

I don't see you really being able or wanting to date him straight away if ya met...but he would try his best.

Adam is a very simple man, wanting nothing lavish or something like that.

But you were lavish, you lived lavishly, you had people at your beck and call and you did NOT need him like he thought.

You actually insulted him a couple times, he's not a very charming person. (Or smart..)

He slowly started to come around more despite not being allowed to and watched a couple of your shows,

totally grumbles whenever mammon gets all over you, touching ya however he wants? Thats stupid.

totally called himself the dickmeister whenever you denied him the first time.

after awhile though you slowly got used to him and his loud personality, actually letting it calm you.

MAMMON WAS NOT HAPPY. adam and mammon fighting was...awful. Literally awful, they both act kind of similar and even then they can't really fight one another or it'll start a war, so the passive-aggressive comments are enough for now.

Adam took you on a date to somewhere stupid, and it turns out mammon runs a lot of the restaurants within your price range..

Mammon tried keeping you away from the egotistical angel but it wasn't inside of the contract that he could prevent you from seeing people, so he sadly let you go and do whatever.

didn't mean his pampering of you stopped though lol (Im making a part two of this soon if you would like lol,)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #mammon x reader #mammon helluva boss #mutual pining #a bit of enemies to lovers #jealous #headcannons #oneshots #drabble #requests

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svltth · 2 months

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Get out the car.

Tom era: braids/09

Category: angst, little fluff

You and Tom got into a car augment on the way home from a club,tom ends up snapping.

————————————

"I didn't flirt with him, he tried to hit on me and I said I have a boyfriend!" Y/n looked at him with disbelief that he was actually accusing her of flirting with other guys.

"Bullshit!" He yelled gripping tightly onto the leather of the stirring wheel as he sped up slightly.

"TELL ME WHAT I WAS DOING THAT MADE IT LOOK LIKE I WAS FLIRTING EITH HIM!" Y/n was now getting pissed off that he didn't believe her.

"YOU WERE LAUGHING WITH HIM!" Tom shouted matching her tone while not taking his eyes off the road.

Y/n scoffed at his answer. "I was laughing AT him because he said he's better looking than you and that I should leave you to go with him! Now I think I should have gone with him!" Y/n shouted knowing she shouldn't have said the last bit but It just slipped out and to be honest she didn't care at that moment.

Tom pulled over coming to a sudden stop. "Get out the car!" He shouted unlocking the doors as he stared at her.

"What?!" Y/n said making sure she had heard him correctly.

"I said get out the fucking car" Tom lowered his tone as he clenched his jaw.

"Tom it's pissing it down I'm not getting out!" Y/n protested.

"Get out the god damn car!!" Tom yelled loosing his patience. Y/n didn't say anything thing else. She grabbed her leather jacket getting out the car and slamming the door shut, watching him drive off as she put on her jacket beginning to walk. Her hair was instantly soaked as well as her clothes.

——————

Toms POV:

——————

I knew I shouldn't have made her get out the car into the cold rain in only a short dress and jacket but I was so annoyed with her, though it wasn't her fault it was mine for jumping to conclusions. I was stupid for thinking she was flirting with that guy. But just the thought of someone else laying their hands in her or even just laughing with her makes me want the rip their worthless little head off.

I know I can get jealous at times but I just don't want to get hurt again. Y/n wouldn't do that though.

I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. I opened the front door and sat down on the couch thinking of how much of an asshole I was. An hour had passed and she still wasn't home, I had rang her multiple times each time it was declined. I had fucked up.

——————

Y/n opened the door to Tom and hers house. She was met with the sight of him sat on the couch his head in his hands. Tom quickly stud up once he heard the door open.

"What took you so long I was worried sick" he said slowly walking over to f to he sight in front of him, she was soaked to the bone her arms wrapped round her body failing to keep her warm and makeup smudged round her face.

"I got lost" y/n simply said as she made her way upstairs to the shower.

"Y/n I'm so sorry I just got jealous I didn't mean anything I said" Tom said desperately as he followed her up the stairs.

"Leave it Tom I'm sleeping on the couch tonight" she said shutting the bathroom door on him. Tom just stood there, tears threatening to leave his eyes.

Y/n got into some warm pjs, grabbed two spare blankets and some pillows and made her way to the couch down stairs. Tom was lying awake in their bed unable to sleep with her not there next to him.

——————

Y/n's POV:

——————

It was around 3:30 am and I was unable to sleep. I had too many thoughts buzzing round in my head. No matter what I tried I just couldn't seem to get to sleep.

I heard Tom creep downstairs so I pretended to be asleep. I could tell he was looking at me, I suddenly felt him get under the blanket next to me. His arms snaked loosely around my waist.

I was too tired to tell him to move and plus I felt safe with him close to me, I know we had just had an argument but I just wanted to be close to him so I turned to face him pushing my face into his chest as I felt his arms tighten around me as he pulled me closer nuzzling his face into my hair.

"I so sorry y/n, I love you" he whispered into my hair his voice barely audible.

"I love you too" I mumbled into his chest as I hugged him tighter.

_____________________

❗️IGNORE MISTAKES❗️

#kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #modle #2000s #2000s core #2000s emo #imagine #oneshot #angst #car

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nobody-nexus · 4 months

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Ragapom HCs I Have

(WARNING: There's a LOT of headcanons)

-Transfem Lesbian Pomni (Is On The Spectrum)

-Cisgender Bisexual Ragatha (Has ADHD)

-Pomni has a cat tail (This is to give other hcs context)

-Pomni loves hearing Ragatha play the cello

-Ragatha will always ask if it's okay if she can touch Pomni or not, but if they're in immediate danger there's no time to ask (she will ask if Pomni's okay and apologize AFTER the danger has passed)

-Pomni learned how to sew just to help out Ragatha (She's not great at it, but it's better than nothing)

-They both learned each other's favorite smells and they've asked for candles of that scent just to sit in their rooms and take it in

-Pomni's not the BIGGEST fan of her body but Ragatha makes sure she feels valid (if you misgender her, you die. There's no getting pass it)

-Ragatha hides her love of horses because she's embarrassed by it, but Pomni actually really like animals

-Pomni makes various animal noises when expressing emotions, mainly cat or even dog like noises- and Ragatha's memorized all of them

-Blanket cuddles ALL THE TIME- even if Pomni's okay with touch. Ragatha being one giant comforter for Pomni always makes her SO HAPPY

-Pomni has bells on her tail, which although was Caine's idea, it DID make it easier for Ragatha to know if Pomni's sneaking away for a late-night snack or not

-Pomni has a BIG love for dresses. Ragatha once made a dress for Pomni, who wears it every time they go on a date

-Jax was the first to find out about them dating by barging into their room while they were making out. Caine was the last to find out, but still thinks they're "gal pals"

-Whenever Ragatha's having a bad day, Pomni just likes to talk. Since she's not always up for physical comfort, she knows her voice soothes Ragatha

-Pomni swears a lot whilst Ragatha hardly does so

-Ragatha makes Pomni flustered CONSTANTLY, and she never even means to

-Pomni's stamina is nonexistent while Ragatha can run for hours without realizing it

-Ragatha can pick up Pomni like she's nothing

-Pomni is awful at coming up with cute nicknames for Ragatha, but Ragatha has a bunch. Her favorite one is 'sweetheart' for Pomni

-If the jester's feeling very protective, she'll bite Ragatha to show bite marks, showing that no one touches Ragatha but her (And the doll's beyond embarrassed about it)

-Pomni's flirting sucks, but Ragatha's reaction is THE most 30s thing you could imagine. Hands on sides of face, shaking her head a little, "Oh Pomni, QUIT IT! You're gonna make me blush!", blushing hard, giggling along the way

-If Pomni gets flustered enough, she gets a nosebleed like a cartoon character! Her blood is black in color

-Ragatha lets Pomni help in the kitchen by grabbing ingredients for her. That's about it

-Ragatha was shocked hearing Pomni talk in Spanish and Russian for the first times (AN: YES, I still think Pomni's Russian and Hispanic)

-When they kiss, it's VERY obvious. Ragatha wears red lipstick, and it gets all over Pomni's face, making her all red and flustered, but she loves it every time it happens

-No one has told Pomni her eyes turn into hearts when she's infatuated yet. Not even Jax (Mainly cause Ragatha won't ALLOW him to do so)

-Pomni thinks Ragatha looks hot holding knives.... Ragatha's a little bit of a klutz with knives in reality

-Unlike Ragatha, Pomni actually likes bugs. She usually handles centipedes if any are around

-Ragatha has a big sweet tooth which is why she bakes. Although it has lead to Ragatha accidentally getting high because Zooble made pot brownies... Multiple times

-Pomni is easy to anger whilst Ragatha has a long fuse, but can be easily bothered

-If Pomni gets too stressed out, her teeth get shark like. She can crush a damn BONE with them, and Ragatha helps out with those said bones (don't ask where she gets them from)

-Pomni likes playing horror games whilst Ragatha likes calmer games

-Ragatha loves FNaF and will ramble about it to Pomni

-Pomni likes to draw! Ragatha loves ALL the drawings she does

-They watch Disney movies in bed together :D

-Most of their dates get ruined because of Jax or Caine (Sometimes Bubble)

-Ragatha gets oddly competitive in multiplayer games, thus why they don't play many multiplayer games together

-Slow dancing is Ragatha's favorite romantic thing to do with Pomni

-They usually kiss when both are laying down because the height difference hurts Ragathas back hurt when they kiss whilst standing

-Pomni HATES being wet with her clothes on. Pomni has to be carried by the scruff of her outfit like a cat because she just COMPLETELY shuts down due to overstimulation of the wet clothes against her skin

-Ragatha hates her hands, but Pomni finds them interesting, and she likes to watch Ragatha use her hands for various things JUST to see how they work

-Caine almost gave them a child by overhearing something they said wrong, but thankfully the two were quick enough to stop him

WOW that's a LOT of hcs. And maybe I have more. Hope you like them!

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galacticgraffiti · 7 months

Text

Sugar (I've developed a taste for you)

❁ 2 ❁

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: A favour for a favour - Astarion's world has worked like that for centuries. Except- you don't know that yet.

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 3.3k Descriptors: I try to keep my reader-inserts fairly neutral, but let me know if anything slips through the cracks! Still debating how to go about C3... CW: nicknames, flirting, lusting after the pale man, blood, blood play, talks about biting, feelings talk

« Chapter 1 ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

Chapter 2: I'm a Winged Insect, You're a Funeral Pyre

You wake up wrapped in your bedroll, barely able to open your eyes. You feel exhausted - drained.

Drained.

You sit up, your hand flying up to your neck to feel for the wound Astarion’s fangs must have left there. They are small, barely tangible, but you can feel the small holes nonetheless.

You breathe out slowly, trying to gain some control over your feelings. The world blurs before your eyes as you recall last night.

This really happened. You let him do that to you. You gave your blood, willingly - and you found out Astarion’s big secret. Not just an elf, but a vampire. You knew he was hiding something, but something this big? May the gods have mercy on your soul because you have certainly sinned.

You shiver when the memories of last night push to the forefront of your mind - Astarion’s hand in your hair, his lips on your neck - his teeth in you. How it felt to be drunk from, how easy it was to give in and let him have what he wanted.

You don’t remember passing out, but you must have, because you have no recollection of making your way back to the campfire.

Carefully, you stretch out your sore muscles, bones and joints cracking.

“Good morning, darling.”

Astarion’s voice makes your head whip around. He is sitting there, on the thick stump of a tree right next to where you always sleep, watching you with concerned eyes.

“Good morning.” Your voice is scratchy, your throat drier than the seventh circle of the hells.

Astarion’s tongue peeks out from between pink lips, and you notice that he looks… invigorated.

“How are you feeling, sweet thing?” He sounds genuinely worried, and your heart flutters. “There was a moment last night- I thought I may have taken too much, but then you stirred in my arms… I am sorry, my dear, you just make me… hungry.”

The way his voice drops on the last word makes your heart flutter. If this is how he acts after you do him this favour, it may well have been worth it.

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, trying to focus your mind. You are not nearly as angry as you probably should be. “May have been a bit much. I’m feeling sort of woozy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I do apologise. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” He saunters over, kneeling next to you, his finger stroking your cheek.

“Next time?” You laugh weakly. “You sound very certain there will be a next time.”

His eyes darken.

“Well, won’t there be?”

Your neck cracks when you stretch, then exhaustion makes you sink back into your little nest of warmth again.

“Mhh. I’ll have to think about it.”

“But- but I thought you liked it.” Astarion’s voice sounds vaguely distressed, his hand pulling away from your cheek. “I could taste it on you- I could feel it-”

“I- Gods, I’m not saying I didn’t… enjoy myself,” you clarify, though your cloudy thoughts are making it hard to put into words what exactly it is that you are feeling. “I’m just- you said it yourself, just a taste, but now you admit you lost control-”

“-I’ll get better at it with time, who was ever perfect the first time they did something?”

That shuts you right up. What in the hells does that mean?

Astarion’s face is guarded when he looks at you.

“It was… the first time I did not drink from an animal,” he explains quietly. “You were my first, and you were perfect. Better than anything I could have ever dreamed of, simply divine. A delectable treat that I was not in the least prepared for. I am sorry if I got a bit wrapped up in the moment, my love.”

Your cheeks flush at his words. Never in a million years would you have thought you might enjoy being called a ‘treat’, and yet, here you are.

Astarion pats your blanket, gently pushing you back down until you give in and roll up in your blanket once more. His voice is soft and gentle when he regards you.

“Now, now, my pet. Rest some more; it seems you need it. And… thank you.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, and the small smile on his face is the last thing you see before you slip off to sleep again.

*****

It becomes a regular occurrence after that. You know it shouldn’t, you know it is a stupid risk each and every time. You know you have less strength the next day, your head swimming and your throat aching. But, oh, to watch Astarion fight fuelled by your blood is a delight you never expected.

He is stronger, much more powerful than you ever saw him before - and happier. His behaviour does not change, exactly, but every once in a while, you now catch him trying to take care of you in small, nearly imperceptible ways. It astounds you, it surprised you - but you can’t help feeling flattered by his attentions.

Each time he drinks from you, the pain grows less and the odd ecstasy that accompanies it takes over more and more. It is intoxicating, to feel him so close to you, to witness the noises that escape him, and feel the bobbing of his throat when he swallows what your body provides. You start to look forward to the nights where he finds you.

Each time feels more intimate than the last: From the beginning of it all in that stream, to a secluded place in the woods by the campsite, to his lavish encampment, then yours, then his again, and finally, against a column in a forgotten crypt, when you two stay behind to loot the place while the rest of the party moves on.

It’s getting harder to separate your body’s reaction to something so visceral from feeling aroused by the power that comes with it. To look into Astarion’s blood-red eyes and know they are shining only because of you has an odd effect on you.

And while he whispers sweet nothings, while he groans and whimpers as he drinks you down, you always try to keep up some semblance of control: After that first time in the river, no noise ever escapes you, even though your jaw hurts from clenching.

You wonder vaguely if it is sick that you derive pleasure from this arrangement - but then again, so does he. It is all worth it to see how happy he is, though he waves Gale and Karlach’s comments of his improved mood off like bothersome flies.

Astarion keeps his promise - he never drains you as much as he did the first time, even though you can see in his eyes that he would keep going every time if he thought you might survive it. He never asks for seconds again, and you are grateful. If he did, you are not sure you could deny him.

It has been a while since he last came to you - a few days, no more, but you have gotten so used to your little ritual that it feels like an eternity.

You have moved camp since the last time you got to spend time together; deeper into the forest, on your search for the druid Halsin. You try not to think too much about the fact that Astarion has not sought you out. Trying to keep all this a secret has turned out to be harder than either of you thought. No opportunity has presented itself for a while now, and you have to be rational about the arrangement. It’s not in either of your best interest for the group to find out what you two have been up to. You would rather bear the lewd comments in quiet dignity, thank you very much.

Astarion consumes - well, not your every waking thought, but you find yourself thinking much more about him than you should. It’s not just his fangs that you daydream about either - his lips have snuck into your dreams, his hands, his voice. It’s just not fair.

Thus, tonight, you are determined to find a quiet place for the two of you. The urge that grows inside you must be satisfied. You tell yourself that you do this to make Astarion stronger - you have seen him weaken throughout the week, trying to survive off of animals the way he used to. But it’s not the same.

Now that you have seen what Astarion can do, you want to see him like that all the time: powerful, striking down enemies quicker than you can draw your weapon sometimes. And it’s not just for selfish purposes, either: You want him to feel like that all the time.

And so, you concoct a plan - simple yet effective.

After dinner - Karlach cooked, so it was actually quite enjoyable - you excuse yourself to go explore the surrounding woods. You tell your companions that you want to find another source of water, under the pretence of needing to wash your clothing. Actually, it may not be all pretence - you do smell. So do your companions, which is why no one has complained yet. But you may as well use the time exploring the forest for something helpful aside from just luring Astarion away.

When you catch the way Astarion’s head pricks up when you say that you are looking for a quiet place with water, you know that he has caught on. He is too smart for his own good sometimes, but this time, you are glad about it.

Anxiety grips your stomach as you wander through the darkness below the thick trees and hope that he might follow you.

What if he doesn’t? What if you happen upon a wild animal before he finds you? Maybe he has lost his taste for you, or-

“There you are, darling.” His voice has become so familiar in the last few days, quiet and demanding at the same time. You wish you didn’t like it so much.

You turn around to find Astarion much closer to you than you had anticipated. He is always so quiet.

“Here I am.” You cock your head. “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me now, sweet thing.” He steps closer, cupping your face in his hands. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left camp. You were hoping I would come find you, were you not?”

“Maybe.” You try not to give in, but he feels too good- too warm, too comforting. His teeth shine in the moonlight when he laughs and your belly tightens.

“Ah, I knew it. You missed me.”

You raise a brow and stare at him defiantly: “You have lacked in battle recently. I thought you might need to be… replenished.”

“And that was the only reason, was it?” As he leans closer to you, you step back, one, two, three steps until your back is pressed up against a tall fir tree. “You were worried about my… performance?”

“Yes,” you whisper. His lips are so close to yours you can feel his breath on your face. Your eyes flutter shut as you let your head fall to the side to expose your neck.

“Liar.” Astarion sounds amused by your weak attempts to defy him. “You missed me- you missed the way I make you feel.”

His lips descend onto your neck in a way that feels nearly like worship. You suppress a sigh at the sensation - gods, you have missed this more than you should have. He smells so good, despite the rough days you have been having, and the way his hands pull at you makes you shiver all over, tiny fire of desire exploding on your bare skin where he touches you.

“I was thinking…” he mumbles. “Your neck seems a bit… sore. Maybe we should grant you some reprieve.”

“I’m fine.” Your answer is too fast, and Astarion’s chuckle makes your heart beat faster.

“Of course you are, little pet. I’ve kept my promise after all, haven’t I?” His tongue flicks at the tiny scars his teeth have left in your neck and you bite your lip to cut off a moan. Your body quivers, though, your back arching for a split-second before you regain control. Astarion’s smile is audible in his voice. “Even if you don’t want to admit it, your body has missed me, my love. I think it’s time we stopped pretending, don’t you?”

“Stopped pretending what?” Your voice is breathless, and all you can do is hope that he might mean what you so desperately hope he means.

Astarion’s lips lift from the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Why, pretend you don’t want me, of course.” He says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe, it is. “Pretend like you don’t need me just as much as I need you. Did you think you could hide how your pulse quickens when I touch you? The flush in your cheeks, your little breaths… Your body betrays you, little pet. You have been careful, my darling, but not as careful as you might think you have been. All those small noises you thought I couldn’t hear… tsk.”

He shakes his head. You chew on your lower lip, anxiously waiting for his reaction to your not so secret secret. A coppery taste floods your mouth and you realise you must have broken the skin of your lip by worrying it.

You raise your finger to wipe away the drop of blood, but your hand is caught by a pale one. Astarion inhales sharply, his body pressing up against you, his thigh slotting between yours as easily as if it had always belonged there. The rough bark of the tree presses into your back and you become acutely aware how trapped you are by Astarion’s arms in a way that turns the spark of arousal in your belly into a full blown fire.

Astarion’s thumb paints circles on the back of your hand as he stares at the drop of blood on your lip intently, hypnotised by the dark red sliver of pain against your skin.

His voice is gravelly in a way you have never heard before, and you shiver when he raises his hand to smear the blood until it covers your lips.

“Mhh.” He cocks his head. “That’s better, my love. Perfect rosy lips for my perfect little pet. Oh- don't look at me like that, darling, it’s alright. Does it hurt? Let me help you with that…”

It’s not a kiss, not really. His mouth meets yours desperately, licking at the small wound where your lip split. You tell yourself it’s not a kiss, but your body reacts like it is anyways. Your nerve endings light up in a fiery cascade of pleasure, and your hands fly up to Astarion’s waist, pulling him closer into you.

His tongue licks at you and your lips part easily, but he does not take the opportunity. Instead, he laughs quietly as he pulls back.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” He sounds content with himself in a way that would infuriate you if you were not so turned on right now.

You ashamedly stare down at your boots. And you nod.

Astarion’s finger tilts your chin up gently until you have to raise your head and look him in the eye.

“Don’t look away, my darling.” He strokes your cheek. “There is no need to be ashamed. You should have told me earlier that this was what you really wanted… mixing pleasure and pain is always a good idea, sweet thing.”

“I wasn’t- I mean, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Don’t lie to me now, little pet. You know I can always tell.” His lips are so close to yours it feels like you can taste him already, his eyes dark and fiery even in the dim light of dusk. “What do you want? Be honest with me now.”

Your hands bury in his hair almost of their own volition, soft silver curls tangling between your fingers.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. “Please.”

You sound desperate, but you cannot bring yourself to care. Not as Astarion exhales, and closes the distance between you. His lips taste of your blood, bitter and coppery, but his tongue in your mouth is the sweetest honey. By the gods, he is good at what he does - soft noises falling from his mouth, his hard body pressing against you. His thumb rests against the pulse point of your neck, right where he left you scarred, and you feel like you are floating.

When he finally pulls back, you are both out of breath. His lips shimmer red from the blood on your own, and you can feel his desire - he looks at you like you are the most delicious meal he has ever seen after starving for years.

Maybe you are.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks, his voice quiet and commanding. “What is it that you really desire, sweet thing?”

“I want you,” you admit, hating how your voice breaks even between those two words. “You may… need me, but I have come to realise I need you too. It’s not… you- I mean…��

“What is it, my darling? Use your words.” The gentle encouragement mixed with just the vaguest tint of mockery goes straight to your core and you curse your body for being so weak.

“I… I know this began as a favour,” you start, unsure of how to phrase what has been growing between you in such a short time. “But I… you know, it’s not just that anymore. Not for me. I… I like it.”

Your confession makes heat rise to your cheeks, and you bite your lip. Astarion stares at you, uncharacteristically lost for words, so you drone on.

“I like doing this for you- I like knowing I am helping you, I like knowing that you feel better- that you have become stronger because of me. I like seeing that your hands don’t shake so much anymore, and I like seeing you smile across the battlefield. It makes me happy- you make me happy. And you know, the pain fades after a while. I actually find it… quite… well, enjoyable. The way I feel when you drink from me… gods, Astarion, it’s indescribable.”

The flood of words spills from your lips like you have been holding it in for months, not days. Astarion still just stares at you, dumbfounded by your confession. Finally, he clears his throat.

“You… like it?” It sounds more like a question.

Gently, you take his hand into yours.

“Yes,” you confirm, smiling at him softly. “I’ve loved seeing you happy.”

“You- oh.” A plethora of emotions plays out on Astarion’s face in mere fractions of a second. You watch him intently. Finally, he clears his throat. “Well, I… I really don’t know how to respond to this. You, my love, are simply… incredible.”

Your smile grows broader.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad you finally noticed.”

A small smile appears on Astarion’s face at your teasing remark.

“I have been happier, haven’t I,” he muses. “I haven’t really… been happy in so long, I never noticed until you pointed it out.”

You worry your lip, but decide not to press him about it.

“I’m glad I can give you something,” you simply say.

Astarion’s hand holds yours a little tighter.

“You give me more than I have ever dreamed of,” he murmurs. A devilish smile darkens his features as his eyes wander up and down your body. “I think it’s about time I give something back, don’t you think, my darling?”

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

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Hmmmm he is consuming my brain (much like the tadpole hshsh get it) ANYWAYS I am way too emotionally invested in him I support his evil. He has actively made me worse and I love him for it.

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