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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

Text

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

2K notes · View notes

cutecatlov3r · 9 months

Text

my character ai bots:

jjk:

gojo satoru:

his eyes r funny looking- now, you were laughing your ass off due to the fact that he took off his blindfold during a mission with a curse. you couldn’t help but laugh because he looked so stupidly serious.

wardrobe malfunction- as you walked out he stifled a laugh. “what the hell are ya wearin’?”

he’s annoying- he is so annoying. even in highschool he was unbearable to be around. you hated his annoying ass. but he loved being around you.

vampire au- “oh? the little princess is out of her kingdom? wanted to see me huh?” he teased, looking at her as she hangs upside down.

can’t get enough of him- you and gojo have been on and off since highschool. it’s like everytime you both break up you both just can’t get enough of each other…

your affair- even if you were married he still didn’t care. his feelings for you are deep. he loves you. no matter how many times you tell him you have to stop the little affair going on between you two, he simply doesn’t care

geto suguru:

dad’s best friend- “gonna be quiet like a good girl? or show your dad that you’re just a very bad girl?” he whispered in your ear. his voice deep and quiet, sending chills down your spine.

nanami kento:

healing ur daddy issues- “how’s my baby girl doing today hm?” he pat his lap, gently. “come here, sit.”

yu haibara:

he’s gone- “i’ll be back! don’t miss me too much!” he cheekily smiled. that damn smile… that would be the last time you’d ever see it again.

he’s sick- he coughs and pouts as he lays in his dorm room bed. he was squirming around, sweating and throwing his covers off him. he was currently sick, he was missing a mission that he wanted to go on so badly

he admires you- you disliked him because he followed you around like a lost puppy… he admired you, an upperclassman.

yuji itadori:

he’s delulu- meeting Itadori you didn’t expect him to be so clingy and so sweet to you. little did you know he has a huge crush on you, he is a bit obsessive but he doesn’t let you know that.

your parents hate him- the thing about him is that he is sometimes a bit dumb? he just doesn’t seem like a professional person so when your parents met him, they didn’t like him at all. but that never stopped you from loving him or the other way around

dorky best friend- currently though the two of you were on a mission, sharing a hotel room. he was in a white robe, swirling a glass of wine being dramatic. it was his first time wearing a robe and he wanted to be fancy, be in the moment like a dork.

shibuya arc- “im nothing but a murderer! i can’t forgive myself!” he cried. you stood there looking down at him. sukuna only took over his body for a minute and a lot things happened.

best boyfriend- currently, he was resting between your thighs as you both watch a movie, he used his arms to squish himself against his face some more. “i wouldn’t mind dying from suffocation if it’s with these”

gossiping w him- “HUH?! i need to hear about this, spill everything.” he said in a dramatic tone, joking.

captain of the football team-“hey, you comin’ to my game tonight? last one of the season, I need my lucky charm there to cheer for me.” he giggled, turning you around to face him, your back pressed against your locker.

older brother’s best friend- you were drunk off your ass at some party. yuji spotted you and immediately got on his feet to help you as you stumbled around. “are you okay? megumi is gonna kill you… I’ll get you home”

your his mentor- haibara and yuji had so many similarities. it hurt you to just look at yuji’s smile, being reminded of haibara who died back in your teenage years

he’s in love w you but you already have a boyfriend- yuji is no homewrecker but… currently you’ve stumbled on top of him while training him… he can’t help but think about how Yuta doesn’t deserve you. how Yuta is connected to the woman you used to be.

megumi fushiguro:

step brother- “tch. what the hell are you looking at?” he asked, scaring a guy that had his eyes on you.

yuta okkotsu:

he chose geto’s side- the day he met Geto he was nervous. Geto explained why he wants to kill everyone who isn’t a sorcerer. at the time he declined the offer to join him but later on he rethought his decision. he thought about his past. he left with Geto.

he likes when you hurt him- the two of you brawled for a bit, ending up with your knee on his back, pinning him down. one hand gripping his hair, the other hand pinning down his hand.

your a fan- gojo-sensei took you with him to greet the sorcerer that you’ve heard so much about. he was coming back from training abroad in Africa. you were excited.

helping the newbie- “hey not to be rude but do you not like me…? i feel the tension between us…” he mumbled, frowning slightly.

your other half- right now you both were walking together. he had something important to tell you, he was gonna be training in Africa in a few weeks. gojo-sensei told him he should tell you but he’s just been nervous

inumaki toge:

hajime kashimo:

noritoshi kamo:

guys I will be adding more soon, please leave some suggestions tho ! <3

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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childhood friends danny and jason miscellaneous thoughts: because why not, i'm reworking ch2 because it no longer fits with the remaster of chapter 1 so i've been thinking of them, and i love talking about them. which you should totally go read the remaster because its 26k words and im very proud of it and it barely got any attention.

First off Ellie vapes. Mostly because I think its real fucking funny. The first time Danny finds out about it he gets all up in arms about it. Ellie at first thinks its because she's smoking -- which, helloooo pot meet kettle, Danny has been smoking for a lot longer than she has.

And then he throws a curveball at her and says he's upset specifically because its vaping. Like no, no. Dammit, if you're gonna fuck up your lungs you gotta do it properly, none of this cotton-candy flavored nonsense.

He plays it up for laughs and it's largely non-serious 'i can't believe you're using a vape', if only to hide the fact that he is genuinely displeased with his little sister smoking. Self-destructive behaviors and bad habits are his thing, thank you very much.

But, well, he knows he'd be a hypocrite if he told her he didn't like that she was smoking. He's aware its bad for him, but habits are hard to break and he's not particularly keen to break this one in particular.

Danny bullies her relentlessly about it whenever she vapes in front of him. Like don't be a loser, Elle, carry a carton of cigs and a lighter in your back pocket like the rest of us degenerates.

[more under the cut]

Secondly: Danny's piercings? He got the first lobe piercings as a lost bet from Sam in junior year, and they did it in her room with a needle, a small bottle of blood blossom extract, and an apple. He broke out in hives for a week after thanks to the blood blossom, but it prevented the hole from healing up :)

He got the rest done professionally at a piercing place in the Ghost Zone. He asked Johnny where to find it. Sam and Johnny (and Kitty) nearly convinced him into getting snakebites. He got an eyebrow piercing instead.

Danny's undercut is also self-done, he did it because Technus shot at him with an ectoblast and it missed hitting him, but set his hair on fire. Danny got it out pretty quickly, but it left his hair lopsided and obviously looking like it got burned by something. He went to Sam for help after the fight. He liked the way it looks so he's kept it that way since.

Vlad brought up Jason once(1) in a taunt during a fight, and this was after Jason disappeared from the ghost zone, and Danny very. very nearly killed him on the spot. He hasn't done it since.

Which leads into the other thing: Grief Triggers! As I call them. All Banshees have them in this au.

While all banshees are, in general, in a permanent state of grief, Grief Triggers are a specific emotional response that can cause them to spiral into a state of intense, sometimes debilitating sorrow, and most of the time causes them to start wailing.

Banshees know what their Grief Triggers are and in general tend to try and build up a form of resistance against it so that, if something occurs that happens to trigger said grief, they can at least either get away from other ghosts to let loose or have enough control over themselves that it'll take more work to send them spiraling.

As expected, Jason is Danny's grief trigger. He's built up a pretty good resistance to it so that hey, talking about him and his death is easier than when Danny was fourteen. But a little more prodding and it will trigger, especially depending on who brings him up and how. (See: Vlad)

Grief Triggers also manifest relatively the same; with the induction of an intense state of grief and sorrow, but how a banshee acts on it can sometimes vary. Again, it depends on who triggers it and how. Some of them can get,,, violent, depending on how it happens.

Rath, this au's 'Dan', is a case of a banshee being put into the grief state caused by grief triggers and... never really leaving it. Which they usually do on their own, or with help depending on the severity of it.

At the time it happened Danny was going through the worst week of his life a second time: his best friend's ghost disappeared, then his family and friends all died right in front of him, and then he was stuck with someone who wasn't helping him through that grief.

He was already in the grieving state when Vlad tore out his ghost half. As a result, Vlad only made it worse. With that fury thrown into the mix, Vlad ended up getting torn apart and nobody else was close enough with nor could they get close enough to Rath to help him come down from the wailing state.

So Rath ended up getting stuck in a perpetual negative feedback loop of absolute misery, and well... drove himself insane. The rest of the world became collateral as a result.

the difference between Danny and Jason lies in the fact that Jason died, while Danny is dead.

I'm having more thoughts on the CFAU/TMWS universe banshees, actually.

Banshees are either born in the ghost zone from ectoplasm and are ecto-entities and work as banshees as how we know of them, or they're human spirits that died mourning someone and that grief was so intense that it turned them into a banshee. They're a little more rare.

These banshees typically mourn only one person, or sometimes they follow their Realm-born counterparts and choose a family to mourn for. Typically their own.

Ember is not a banshee; human spirit banshees are always mourning another person. However, her abilities emulate certain qualities of banshees: like the beautiful singing. But in comparison to an actual banshee, Ember's voice pales.

Does this mean Danny has the better singing voice? Yeah. Ember is incensed by this.

If canon Danny and CFAU/TMWS Danny met, I think canon Danny would be kinda unsettled or off put by CFAU.

CFAU Danny still has some pretty core Danny traits, at least I like to think so -- his general drive to help people just out of compassion for them (even if it manifests differently at first due to trauma), his wit and humor, his fear of failing to protect his loved ones, all of those resonate with canon Danny.

However, canon Danny, as far as I can remember and as far as his wiki goes, rarely gets extremely angry or emotional. He gets irritated and he gets annoyed but him getting mad I don't think happens super often. CFAU Danny is the angrier one between Jason and Danny. It's one of the things I consider a division point between him and canon Danny as it's a result of him growing up in Crime Alley. Canon Danny is canonically shy and meek prior to becoming Phantom, CFAU Danny couldn't be -- he'd be dead already.

CFAU Danny's anger would off put canon Danny, in my opinion. His anger, his smoking, and for lack of a better term, his bloodlust would unsettle him.

Like, for example, say CFAU Danny gets transported to a canon (or canon-adjacent) Danny's universe. He's staying with canon for a little bit as they brainstorm how to get him back home, and CFAU Danny goes to school with canon if only so that he's not stuck in the house all day.

Whether they try and pass CFAU Danny off as canon's cousin or if the town already knows that he's another version of Danny, it doesn't matter. Because insert Dash.

Dash who, in CFAU Danny's world, has since learned not to fuck around with Danny or the other kids because Danny has long since asserted that he will beat his ass if he does. 'Fucking around' always predates the 'finding out', and Danny is happy to act as consequence.

(As my father told me (paraphrased) when I was a small child and full of uncontrollable anger: "there's gonna be a day where you're gonna hit someone, and they're gonna hit you back")

And canon Dash, who is used to canon Danny who kinda just takes it because it means that he won't target other people, would see CFAU Danny. He'd notice the resemblance between him and canon, immediately try and go "oh new target!", and try and bully him the same way he does to canon. And Danny "I am the consequences of your actions" CFAU Fenton, instantly throws hands.

Just, CFAU Danny is kind but he's also Gotham-raised and full of bite; he's meaner than canon is. He's more ruthless too, especially in his ghost fights. The ease of which he slips into violence would, imo, discomfort canon. CFAU and Canon would eventually get along though, they're not so different that they'd be in constant clash of each other.

(Canon Danny and Danyal Al Ghul however,,, thats another post LMAO)

#cw smoking #cw vaping #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dead on main au #childhood friends au #cfau #dpdc #ugh i could have made this two parts probably #i've had a lot of thoughts on banshees in this au and how i could adjust them #what i didn't get into: the ghostly behavioral affects that danny has gone through since dying. the ghostly mood swings and #heightened emotions that he's had to work through for the last five years.#one of my favorite lines in the remaster is danny mentioning offhandedly that he's gotten better at his mood swings ever since being a ghos #but also implying that vlad has been on the receiving end of these mood swings before and it didnt end well for him #like yessss gurl go through permanent irrevocable changes of your physiology and psyche that has ultimately altered you from the person you #used to be. you are now no longer fully human yess gurl pick up those habits and behavioral changes that is common in the species you've #been turned into even if its only halfway.#iirc i don't think i included obsessions in this au and checking the remaster doc and the word doesn't show up once in all 26k words of it #so hey looks like we get this instead #danny's singing voice is permanently ingrained in my head as sounding like hozier #its very very funny to imagine my au dannys meeting canon danny or canon adjacent danny #cfau seeing dan: who tf is that?? | canon: um.. dan? our evil alternate future self? | cfau: THATS your evil future self??#canon: yeah?? does yours not. look like that? | cfau: NO?#look if dan saw rath he would do a doubletake is all im saying and then would go “what the fuck what the fuck what the fUCK”#turning rath into a horror movie abomination is the fun part of this au and he's never even gonna show up #jason died but danny is dead. it lies in the past and the present. the was and the is. one of us got up and the other didn't

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) I ch. VII

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,656

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), cute date on the back of jk's car trunk, jk nervous, jk gives lots of gifts & flowers to oc, oc is obsessed with clearance chocolate, auntie oc and uncle kook take care of yoongi's twins, jk & oc become guinea pigs for yoongi's kids lmao, mention of dentist!yoongi, jk's mommy issues get mentioned, jk has personal daddy issues but he working through them, jk being good hubby to oc, just a rollercoaster of emotions ngl

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: Hello! thanks for being patient with me guys!! Important: the flashback for this chapter follows events of chapter V and will refer to it. And yes it's thier first date! Kind of 👀👀 that will be for you to decide. Then we have present day jk and oc being guinea pigs for Yoongi's crazy twins hehehe. Ok pls, enjoy 💞

<< ch. VI ༓ ch. VIII >> ┃series masterlist

You know how some couples have multiple weddings that lead to disagreements over their real anniversary date? Or maybe it’ll be when the relationship was made official or what the first sign of attraction was? Yeah, that’s you and Jungkook when it comes to pinpointing exactly when your first date was.

If you ask your husband, he’ll tell you it was weeks after you were discharged from the hospital during your postgrad studies. But in your opinion, it was far before his timeframe.

You see due to a group of overly eager college freshmen, you had sprained your ankle and cracked a rib. Jungkook stayed with you the entire first two weeks of the recovery period. He'd bring study notes to you, your favorite food, hell even art supplies he bummed off Taehyung to help break up your mundane days in the hospital.

When the time finally came that you were well enough to finish the healing process at home, he suggested a dinner out would be an excellent way to celebrate.

"...do you wanna go out to dinner?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected.

"Are you asking me on a date…?"

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well…let's go with hang out like friends do."

You’re convinced that this was the first time he asked you out, thus leading to your first date. Your husband, however, thinks it was too vague to tell. He prefers to see it as more a pre-date instead.

So, was it a date?

Was it an unspoken pre-date?

The jury’s still out about this one.

4 years ago

It’s a gorgeous day with the way the sun beams on the hood of his car. A few scattered clouds, fluffy and white, float across the sky as well, offering shelter from the heat. You were discharged from the hospital only yesterday and Jungkook was already insistent on going out today, saying that a little fresh air and a change of scenery would be good for you.

“Where are we going?” You turn your head from the passenger window to look at the man inquisitively. It’s a simple question but the tension of the unknown nibbles at you from inside.

“One of my favorite spots,” Jungkook replies with his eyes set on the road. “Hope you don’t mind the drive. It’ll be another fifteen minutes.”

“It's fine. Why can’t I know where we’re going though?”

He hesitates to answer. “Do you not like surprises?”

You shrug. “Sure I do, as long as I know about them ahead of time.”

A hearty laugh follows your words and it sends one of the warmest feelings through your whole body. You didn't think you were being funny, but after being stuck in the hospital for two weeks, it's nice to feel something other than dismal. Jungkook is good at lifting your spirits at the most unexpected of times, you hum to yourself.

He looks handsome today too.

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about it as you watch a few strands of his dark hair blow over. He has his window cracked to let in a gentle breeze and though it causes him trouble here and there, he remains mostly unbothered.

The oversized white T-shirt he chose to wear is something you're still taking time to adjust to. Much more casual compared to what he wears during his lectures. But you like it with the loose-fitting pants he's paired it with.

"If it's necessary for you to know where we're going then I guess I have no choice." Jungkook looks in your direction but your gaze lingers down his torso. "__."

"Yes?" You immediately blink up at him, hoping you don’t look too flushed. Once he directs his attention back to the road you'll make sure to check yourself in the side-view mirror. Using your phone camera might look a little too obvious.

"I was saying if you need to know where we're going I'll tell you," he repeats. "But if it's possible I'd really like for it to be a secret until we get there."

"Alright," you concede. "I guess I could stand the wait this one time. This is your only freebie though. No more surprises after this."

"No more checking me out," he mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Can I open my eyes yet?"

"No." Jungkook opens his door and hops out of the car. "I'll be right back."

"Wait where are you going?" You know he wants whatever this is to be a surprise but you've been told to keep your eyes shut for the last five minutes. You're a little nervous to say the least, especially if he's about to disappear somewhere. "Jungkook?"

No response.

"Hello? Jungkook?" You're tempted to open your eyes when you hear the trunk of his car suddenly pop open. Several rustling noises follow as he digs around. "What are you doing back there?"

"You'll see soon. I'm almost done so just sit tight for a moment." He unzips a bag and then pushes said bag around the floorboard. The sound of something crashing on the ground perks up your ears in the moments following, earning a tiny 'shit' from Jungkook.

"Everything alright?" You're seriously getting antsy now.

When Jungkook swings your door open, a cool breeze hits your legs. "All good __. But now, I'm going to need you to trust me because I'm going to help you out of the car."

What?

"Um, I do have crutches I can use you know. You don't have to carry me anywhere like before. Dr. Kim said I should–"

"You won't need them this time. We're not going far okay?" He ducks his head inside and guides your arms around his neck. "Can you scoot forward a little?"

You do as he says until he tells you to stop. And with one arm supporting your lower back and the other firm under your legs, you're lifted out of your seat.

"Okay." The ground underneath his feet crunches as he straightens himself back up and out of the vehicle. "Now you can open your eyes."

As soon as you do your jaw drops.

"Surprise!"

Jungkook watches your stunned face as you take in all of Seoul from your perched position.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't take us to a traditional restaurant. This is an overlook I happened to stumble on years ago when I first moved here. Not many people know about it because it's kind of off the beaten track but I get a bit adventurous sometimes."

He carries you around to the back of the car.

"Since you're still recovering I won't make us sit on the ground but I brought food that we can eat in the back of my trunk. There's a pillow there you can lean against too. And I made sure to park at an angle so we can watch the sunset."

"Wow...Jungkook I don't know what to say."

"It's cheesy isn't it?" His previously eager tone drops and you can't help but feel a pulling at your heartstrings. "I'm sorry if this isn't your thing. I probably should have asked."

"I love cheesy." You crack a small smile and Jungkook breaks out into a grin again, causing both of you have butterflies in your stomachs. "You're very thoughtful for doing this. I'm sorry about my initial reaction. I'm just shocked."

"Well, we're friends now, aren't we? You should get used to this kind of stuff from now on." He walks up to the trunk and carefully sets you down. "Here, lean back." He fluffs the pillow and then gestures for you to lay back.

Once you're comfortable, he hops in next to you and grabs the baby blue gift bag from the corner of the trunk. You don't know how you missed it before given its size and very decorative packaging.

"Before I give you this to you please know that I don't expect anything back okay?" His hands are shaky as he holds the bag on his lap. "This is just something I wanted to give you after your injury and having to be in the hospital for so long."

You nod your head in understanding but are not fully convinced. "And you're giving this to me as a friend, yes?" You take the bag from him and slowly open it.

"Mhm."

You narrow your eyes at him before reaching into the bag. You take out a very large, sturdy box. "God, Jungkook. This is so heavy. What's in here?" You tear apart the wrapping paper and open the smooth lid. "Oh my god, you didn't?!"

They're chocolates from the dessert shop you told him about last Sunday night. You had mentioned it in passing because you were craving sweets but not in the slightest did you think he'd take it to heart. The shop was at least an hour's drive away.

"Don't worry." He sees the pressure creeping on your face. "I was going that direction anyway. But I saw it on my way back and was reminded that you were craving it the other night. Uhm, there's also a coupon in there too. They included that in the purchase."

"Jungkook....you really didn't need to do any of this for me." You grab the small card laying at the bottom of the bag that reads 20% off. "Thank you so much."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" You're taken aback when he jumps off the trunk to scurry to the backseat. He returns in mere seconds with a generous bouquet of pink and purple hydrangeas. "These are for you too."

You shriek and grab them out of his hand, feeling a little giddy. Hydrangeas are your absolute favorites. "Sorry, that was really rude of me. These are so beautiful, though. Thank you. I don't know what to say."

Jungkook sits back down and pulls forward a freezer bag. "Seeing you this excited is enough. I brought us a lot of food too so, we should probably eat it before it starts going bad. This bag can only do so much preserving." He digs out box after box of yummy food from fresh strawberries to sushi. There are drinks too; banana milk and soju.

Your stomach growls as you watch him set the food between you both.

"Well, don't be shy." He hands you a plate with chopsticks. "Dig in."

"You look very pretty in that blouse..." He stabs his straw into his milk and takes a large sip. "The color really suits you."

"Oh, thank you." You manage the words once you swallow the strawberry you're eating. "Yours too."

Jungkook combs through his hair with his fingers. "Thanks, this t-shirt really brings out my eyes don't you think?" You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly.

"Stop, I'm being serious. I don't see you in this type of style often. It looks good."

He gives a playful shake of his head. "Where did you get that shirt anyway?" He gestures at your top again.

"At a store," you reply dumbly. "It was on sale. Gotta love a good deal right?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Never pay full price."

"That's exactly what I try telling my roommate. She only buys the best of the best but I think she could get the same thing 50% off if she waited long enough."

"You know Taehyung's the same way. Nothing but luxury from head to toe. I'm surprised he paints in a basic t-shirt and jeans some days."

You chuckle, feeling the air light and fresh. "Painting gets messy so it's better you not wear your best and brightest clothes. Sometimes I'll just wear a giant t-shirt that already has paint stains and nothing el–"

Shit.

You cringe at how quickly you can run your mouth. Jungkook doesn't need to know your painting attire evident from his sudden frozen up form.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be. I've heard worse." Jungkook clears his throat and looks out to the view in front of you. "This really is a beautiful spot is it not?"

Thank you for the deflection, you silently say to him.

"Yes, it's the best view I've seen in my life. I can't believe you found this place. It's like seeing everything for the first time again."

"__."

"Hm?"

"Is it weird that I–" He stops mid-sentence, hands rubbing his thigh. "Is it weird that I brought you here?"

"Of c–"

"No wait, wait that's not what I wanted to ask." He runs his fingers through his hair again, doing his best to keep eye contact. "What would you say if someone were to ask you out?"

You relax into a tight-lipped smile and quirk your head to a slight angle. "I'd probably say no because I'm on a date with you right now."

At this Jungkook's milk slips from his hand, spilling on his pants. You grab some napkins next to you and help him wipe the spillage off.

"We're on a date?" He stands the milk upright. "This is a date?"

"Yes, it very obviously is. I don't wear this top for just anyone you know." You close your mouth instantly and sit up straight. "You weren't meant to hear the last part."

"Wait, go back. I thought this was us hanging out. Remember? At the hospital, I said–"

"C'mon the flowers, the specialty chocolates, taking me to one of your secret hideouts. Not to mention packing all this food to share. It is most definitely a date. Do you not want it to be?"

"No! I mean of course, yes. But I would have dressed a lot better." He looks down at himself, embarrassed. "I just threw these on before I left the house."

"And what else would you have worn? I see you in dress shirts and slacks twice a week at the school, if not more."

"Oh, I guess you have a point." He lets out a sigh. "To be honest __. We don't have the most proper relationship for that kind of thing, do we? It's annoying that I keep saying it but I am still your professor until the end of this semester at least. Us dating would be kind of a breach of contract."

"So you won't call this a date because you think it's forbidden?" You cross your arms.

"Well not entirely. It's just...I'm scared. There it is. And if we plan to do any sneaking around business I need to know you...shit, this is going to sound so middle school of me...I need to know you're interested in me __."

"For fucksake Jungkook, I wouldn't have agreed to come if I wasn't interested." You move closer to his side so you're inches from his face. "You're the kindest person I've ever known and I'd like to know you more like you've been doing for me the past two weeks. You've gone out of your way so many times for me that I seriously can't keep up. And while I can't say that I'm in love with you since it's much too soon, I've become very attracted to you. It just sucks we're in a bit of an odd position with school and all. But we can make this work. I'm also in post-grad so I don't think we're doing anything that risky."

"What about Taehyung?"

"That's all you got out of what I just said?"

"Sorry, I'm just asking because you seemed into him at the art exhibit. You're both artistic after all." He fiddles with his fingers. "I'm just the guy who you got stuck with this year because you couldn't major in art."

You feel compelled to take one of his restless hands in your own, so you do–holding it loosely.

"Kim Taehyung was simply a visual interest," you say. "I never thought about anything serious with him. He's also faculty so unless he saves my life or something, I'm not really considering anything beyond a friendly report."

A moment of silence is exchanged as Jungkook lets your response sink in. And as long as your eyes aren't fooling you, you'd say he's more than pleased with it.

"So...you really wanna do this?" Jungkook asks with more anticipation than nervousness this time.

"Yes." You nod.

"Wow, okay um, well when do you want to go out?" He kicks his feet back and forth. And when he reflexively squeezes your hand you can't help but grin at his eagerness. "I'm free every weekend if that works for you."

"We should probably get to the end of this date first Dr. Jeon."

"Nooo, I like Jungkook. Can we stay with Jungkook when it's just you and me? Also, this isn't a date. We need a do-over."

You laugh, seeing a new side of him. He's more, hm, whiny than you thought–it's cute.

"Jungkook, we don't need a do-over. This can be a date if we want it to be. It's got all the elements already. Look." You lift his hand in yours. "We're already holding hands.

"Nope. When are you free?"

"How about this coming Friday after 4pm? Is that too far out?"

He shakes his head fervently. "It works perfectly for me. Let's do 4:01pm." Your baffled expression causes his own eyebrows to knit together. "What? You can't do 4:01?"

"I–yeah sure I can but I didn't expect you to suggest a time so soon."

"Well, you said you'd be free after 4pm right?"

You nod.

"Then it's a date!"

He smiles wide and you do the same.

Present

"Kook, grab us a cart. You won't believe what's on sale!" You stuff about five gold-foiled boxes under your arm. The yellow tag next to the price says 75% off which means you are for sure buying at least ten of these.

It's times like these that your husband enjoys watching you most. You can barely reach the self where the clearance chocolate is, nevertheless, you're on your tip-toes with arms fully extended above your head to grab at every box of sweets you can.

His inner hero wants to help but he's learned early on not to get in the middle of you and your favorite snack. It's better he listens to your request to get a cart instead.

"Don't hurt yourself in the five minutes I'm gone okay honey?"

"Mhm," you mumble, not really paying attention. "Kook this chocolate has caramel and orange inside. Oh my god, look." You show him a box of chocolates with cherry filling. "These are to die for. I need like six of these."

"Here give me some of those." Jungkook takes the boxes of chocolates from your arm when he sees them slipping from your hold. "I'll put these in a cart while you keep digging. But if someone else comes along, let them have at least one this time."

He knows how much of a little hog you can get with your candy.

"Are you kidding? Finders keepers." You reach for another box, the ones in the back are always the best.

"__."

"What? I'm doing all the hard work here which means I get to keep all the chocolate."

"Fine, fine. Be sure to check the expiration date too." Jungkook turns around to stalk toward the front of the store. If he doesn't get his butt to a cart soon, his wife is going to turn into a grizzly bear.

A very cute grizzly bear.

But a grizzly bear nonetheless.

"Did we really need thirty boxes of these?" Jungkook dumps the grocery bags on your kitchen counter. "I love you but this is insane. Who's going to eat all of this chocolate?"

"Well, I was planning on sending the twins home with some." You rummage through the bag then move to stack them in the pantry. "They'll be here in an hour so it can be a surprise from us."

"Yoongi's twins? You're going to send the two children whose father is a dentist a whopping bag of chocolate?" Jungkook hands you another box to put in the pantry. The little assembly line works well when putting groceries away.

"I'm only giving them one box okay? So Yoongi can shove it."

You hear a snickering behind you.

"Honey don't push the man who could likely yank all your teeth out of your head and end with, 'will that be all?'"

You roll your eyes. "Yoongi doesn't scare me like he scares you. But if you're so worried I will get his permission ahead of time."

Jungkook's mouth opens in response until he feels a slight vibration in his pant pocket. When he takes it out to check his initial good mood drops about ten degrees.

"Kook?" You watch as he reads whatever it is on his phone.

"Nothing." He switches off the device and places it face-down on the counter. "It's just dad."

"Something about your mom I'm presuming?"

Being Saturday, it's been a few days since Jungkook had his fallout with his mother. They were originally planning to stay in town until Friday but left Thursday morning instead due to Mrs. Jeon feeling "unwanted".

Your husband's been in close contact with his father ever since.

"Yeah," Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh. "She's journaling again apparently. It's what she does to cope with frustrations like me."

"I'm sorry Kook." You rub his arm soothingly. "Maybe she needs some time to think about everything that's happened. I know you want her to talk to you but maybe it's not all bad that she's jotting things down first."

"Yeah, maybe." He takes your hand and presses a light kiss against the back of your knuckles. "It's whatever though, Mom can have her fit. I'm not going to let her ruin one of the only free days I get with my wife."

You smile and quickly peck his soft lips–something Jungkook wishes would be longer.

"Love you," you say and return to your original task of putting groceries away.

"Listen to me you two gremlins," Yoongi says on a bent knee. "Eomma and I will be back by 8pm. Until then your uncle Jungkook and Aunt __ are in charge. You know the rules, no jumping around on the sofas, don't into Aunt __'s paints, stay out of Uncle Jungkook's office, and under no condition are you to get into sweets."

He flicks his eyes to you for a brief moment then sets them back on the two seven-year-old girls in front of him. They look adorable with their matching space buns.

"But Appa–"

"No Eun-ji."

"Can't I just have one? Pleaseee?" She stares up at Yoongi with large eyes, hands clasped together. His second daughter Ari quickly does the same.

"We promise we'll brush our teeth right after."

Yoongi's face remains unmoved at his twin's relentless need for chocolate. Sure, he may be the one more likely to cave to requests when it comes between him and his wife but sweets were definitely off the table. His girls just got their teeth cleaned a couple days ago too, cavity-free, and he intends to keep it that way.

"Did you even bring your toothbrushes?" He knows for a fact they did not being that they weren't staying the night.

The twins exchange looks before breaking into a goofy grin. Mrs. Min leans down next to her husband at the moment and draws her girls into a hug.

"Appa and I will bring you back something better than chocolate tonight, okay?" She kisses her daughter's cheeks and then stands up. "Be good."

"K..." The twins let out a small huff then turn to set their backpacks on the living room couch.

"Hey," Yoongi calls after them. "Where's my hug?"

You let out a snort when you see Eun-ji face her dad again, tongue sticking out. Her sister gives a similar attitude with her hands on her hips and scrunched-up face. These girls might be in elementary school now but boy, those teenage years are sure to be rocking.

"Turn." You hear Ari from across the living room. She's standing on the sofa with her small hands holding a chunk of your husband's hair.

"Like this?"

"No the other side."

With his legs crossed on the floor, Jungkook shifts his head toward your direction with widened eyes. At this point, most of his hair has been pulled back into tight braids and finished off with yellow and pink hair clips. The only section left to do now was the underside.

"How do I look?" he asks you.

"Oh, you look breathtaking honey." You feel a soft makeup brush swipe across your cheek, courtesy of Eun-ji who's decided you needed a 'makeover'. You're not sure if that means a seven year old cramped on your style or what, but either way, you're getting bronze cheeks and glittery eyeshadow.

It's only been half an hour and the twins were already making you and your husband do their utmost bidding.

"Ari honey," you coo. "You should become a hairstylist when you grow up. You're doing such a good job with Uncle Jungkook's hair."

"I know," she sasses. "I'm good at this stuff Auntie. Everyone says that I am the queen of doing hair."

You and Jungkook giggle from the small child's gumption. It's good she's confident, you mouth to your husband.

He nods back. "Eun-ji's doing a great job too. You should see the glitter she's chosen for you."

"Not yet Uncle Jungkook," Eun-ji pipes up. "She can't look yet. It's a surprise!"

"Ah okay." He throws you playful eyes, eyebrows bouncing up and down suggestively. "A surprise huh?"

You flutter your eyes closed when you see Eun-ji dab her palette and reach forward to paint the eyeshadow over your lids. "Yup." she nods her head. "I'm giving Auntie the best color ever."

"Wow I can't wait to see honey," you say. "This wouldn't happen to be your favorite color would it?"

The tease in your tone makes Eun-ji grin. Of course, you can't see it but Jungkook can and it causes him to break out into a boisterous chuckle.

"You're so cute Eun-ji," he says, clapping his hands together.

"What about me?" It's Ari's sassiness making a comeback as she pushes the final yellow clip into Jungkook's hair.

"You're cute too Ari." You reassure the child and open your lids once Eun-ji gives you the okay. Not a second following that you're thrusted forward a hand-held mirror.

"What do you think?"

You glance at yourself in the reflection, blush blue eyeshadow that covers up to your eyebrows and bronze blush. You have ruby red lipstick on as well, Eun-ji's personal favorite.

"I love it, sweetheart. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." She gathers all the makeup containers and tools she can fit in her hands before making her way to your husband. "You're turn Jungkook."

"Okay, but can I pick what color this time?" Your husband smiles at the child with mirthful eyes.

"No." She sets the make-up in front of him and pops open a bright, Barbie pink lipstick.

"Anti-ti-ti-ti fragile, fragile!"

You watch from the kitchen as the twins jump around in the living room. After your makeover, the girls felt like a karaoke session was in order. They convinced Jungkook to join them so there he is with a microphone in his hand, belting the lyric of 'Antifragile' by LE SSERAFIM.

"Come on __!" Ari calls to you, breath heavy from all the rambunctious dancing. "Sing with us!"

You laugh and whisk the bowl of flour and sugar in front of you. "No you guys keep going. I'm a little busy at the moment."

"Doing what?" She runs up to the kitchen island where you stand, trying to peek inside the bowl.

"I'm making cookies."

"Really?" She rushes to the other side of the island to pull out the stool from underneath. Once she settles herself in the chair she looks at you with eagerness. "Can we eat them?"

"Hmm..." You pretend to think. "Didn't your dad tell you no?"

"Yeah, but you always give us sweets. Even if he says we can't have them."

The child has a point.

"How about this, if you help me make these you can eat them. But you can't tell your dad okay?" Ari nods. "Good, you can stir this for me while I crack some eggs."

"Just what are you doing?" You jump when Jungkook walks up behind you. "You wouldn't be giving these sweet girls something their parents told them they could have, would you?"

"Dad will be really mad if he finds out," Eun-ji joins in on the scolding. She turns down the music from the tv and folds her arms.

"Well I–"

"If you're going behind Yoongi hyung's back you're going to need some help, honey." Jungkook slides one of the kitchen draws open and reaches to take out a small plastic bag. He throws out two brand new kid-size toothbrushes, orange and blue. "Had a feeling we'd need these tonight after seeing you stock up on all that chocolate today."

"Now girls..." He turns to look at Ari and Eun-ji who seem to be busy mixing the bowl of flour and sugar together. "Hey girls."

They lift their heads.

"Make sure to brush twice before your dad gets back. This stays our little secret, understand?"

"Okay," they say in unison.

"Thank you Kook." You lean your head against your husband's firm chest, resting for a moment. This whole situation is kind of funny if you think about it. But you really hope you don't get beef from Yoongi later.

"Anything for you," Jungkook quips and kisses your head gently.

"Ew..." You hear Ari say.

"No it's not," Eun-ji bites back. "It's romantic, like the movies."

Ari scrunches her face at her sister. "No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Nope."

You and Jungkook wait for the two of them to simmer down but they keep going at it. Yes, no, yes, no...back and forth until one of them scoops up a handful of the flour in the bowl and tosses it at the other.

"Uh okay, no more! No more." You and Jungkook lunge forward to sweep the bowl out of their reach.

"How about you let Auntie and Uncle finish making the cookies and you two go back to karaoke?" Jungkook successfully persuades the twins and they run back into the living room in search of the next biggest hit to jam to.

You lock eyes with Jungkook now, wordless.

"Hm?" He hums at you.

"Mm." You shrug your shoulders and move towards the fridge but not before you're flicked with some of the flour yourself–your husband's hand powdery from the mixture. "Kook!"

You wipe your face, and light laughs fall from both your lips.

"Okay girls, get brushing!" Jungkook guides the twins to the bathroom. "Your parents are going to be home in fifteen minutes and that means these teeth need to smell like nothing my fresh mint." He squeezes the toothpaste on each girl's brush.

"Bursh, brush, brush," he chants and you shake your head as you wash the cookie sheet in the kitchen sink.

The twins have eaten about three cookies each and with chocolate stains all over their faces, they're going to need more than a 2-minute teeth brushing.

"Honey, I'm cracking the windows open and lighting my candles." Jungkook rushes around the house in search of his vanilla bean scents.

"I don't think that's going to take away the smell in such a short time. We should probably just take the beating Kook," you holler back.

"Oh, we're definitely getting dragged out tonight." He yanks the candle jars open and lights them. "The smell of freshly baked cookies is still too strong to hide but I'm hoping these candles will act as a distraction."

You hit your husband with the kitchen towel, the snap of it making him throw you a startled look. "Shit–do you not see the lighter in my hand?"

You roll your eyes. "Relax drama queen, you didn't have it ignited yet. Anyway, the candles aren't necessary if we're opening all the windows."

"It'll help though."

"Not really."

"Well, I think they will."

Jungkook goes back to lighting his candles and once he has the twentieth one lit, he's thoroughly pleased with himself.

As soon as the twins finish cleaning themselves up, they help scatters them throughout the house, leaving them in as many corners with surfaces as possible.

"Okay, that's it! That's the last one." Jungkook high-fives the twins and you toss the last dish in the drying rack.

"Good job team." You laugh and join them in the living room.

Eun-ji plops herself on the sofa with her backpack in her lap. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

Ari joins her on the couch with her own backpack in hand. "Me too." She pauses and then says something that you and Jungkook were very much underprepared for.

"You would make good mom and dads."

"You think so?" Jungkook shocks you by responding first.

Ari nods. "If you had kids, we could all play together. And we can have all the cookies we want because we'll be best friends. And best friends share everything!"

"So you want Auntie and I to have kids so you can keep hiding cookies from your dad?" Jungkook lunges forward to tickle the child mercilessly. "You little cookie monster!"

Ari rolls around on the couch, giggling repeatedly. You can't help but feel the thumping of your heart as you watch the scene unfold. And for the slightest moment, you imagine what it would be like with your own child.

All those thoughts are put to an abrupt end however when the doorbell rings.

Jungkook flies to the door to let Yoongi and his wife in. He flashes you a little smile before opening it, ensuring you that whatever happens he's got your back.

"Were you guys baking in here?" Are Yoongi's first words as he and the Mrs step inside the entryway of your house.

"Um, no? No, I don't think so." Jungkook feigns ignorance. "It must be coming from our neighbor's house."

With the twins home with their parents, you and Jungkook curl up together in your bed. You nuzzle your head in his inner shoulder and his arm holds around your waist.

"Those girls are a lot," Jungkook says. "But you know, I have to agree with them this time–it was kinda fun."

"Yeah?" You aimlessly trace circles on his chest.

"Still crazy, but yeah. I felt like I had a lot of good energy inside me tonight. And you know something else?" He looks down at you.

"What?"

"We'd make pretty damn good parents."

You bolt up from your reclined position the second the words drop.

"You can't keep doing this to me Jungkook," you say, your hands gripping the soft comforter. This isn't the first time he's teased you with having a baby and every time he does, you don't know what to take it as.

Is it a joke, is he serious, or just talking?

"You know how I feel and–"

"Hey." Your husband leans up to stroke your back with warm hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry honey. I don't mean to confuse you. I really am thinking about it you know? With everything that's been going on with my parents lately, I know I've been hard to pin down but I really am serious when I say we'd make good parents. Or when I say we might have a possible baby to make one day."

"Might. Could make. Maybe." You stare straight at your husband. "I know you're warming up the idea but you're still talking in such vague terms. I'm not at all trying to rush us to decide on a baby or not. But I just don't want to get a false sense of hope...that you'll say yes."

"Come here." He draws you into an embrace and kisses your cheeks, both of them. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I admit the first few times I was more loose with what I was saying than I should have been. But I swear I, it was never my intention to be leaving you guessing. I'm so sorry."

"I just want to know what you really think Kook. So I can be sure where you're at through this whole thing. The last few days have thrown a wrench at us with all the stuff your mom's been doing. But I'd still like to be in the loop of things."

"Yes, of course. I'm going to tell you everything right now okay?" Jungkook takes a breath. "I want to give you a baby so bad and I think I'm 70 percent there. But I'm also 60% not there because I'm terribly scared that once it happens, once we have a baby...that I'll revert back to my original mindset of not wanting one."

"Kook–"

"Hold on a second."

You close your mouth and allow him to continue.

"I've already started seeing and feeling being around kids differently than before. So much so that I think we could be happy if we started a family together because I'm so happy when I'm with you. And if there's anyone I could do that with, it'd be you and only you. So yes, I want us to have a baby, as many as you want, but I want to be 100% there first."

"Okay, that's fair. I'm not going to lie that I don't feel a little out of body from what you just said. Just to clarify, you're saying yes to how many babies?" You shine your eyes at him. "You said you want to give me as many babies as I want right? How many would that be?"

"My limit is yet to be determined." He grins at you. "It seems I might need to repeat some things if all you got out of what I just said is that I'll give you as many babies as you want."

"No, actually." You grip his hand. "I heard what you said and thank you. I feel a lot better knowing your thought process through this whole thing. We both need to be 100 % in before deciding on this next step in our lives. And about you being worried that you'll revert back to not wanting children. I'm no expert but I don't think that'll be true given your recent exposure with kids has made you feel better than worse. You said it yourself–you had a lot of good energy inside you tonight."

"True. You make an excellent point there. I think I still need some more time though. I was even thinking that maybe I'll....talk to Hoseok about this."

"I'm glad to hear that Kook. Hoseok is an amazing man and I know talking to him about all this will be nothing but beneficial for you."

"Thank you for being patient with me." Jungkook pulls you both down on the mattress, closing his eyes when his head hits the pillow.

"Same to you." You snuggle back into his chest. "I really hope we can have a family together."

"Me too," you hear him mumble before you close your own eyes.

A/N: Yup I told you this would be a long one. Ty for sticking with me! Also, what do you think? Was it a first date or not? LMK your thoughts 🥰

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#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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eichornia · 3 months

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So I had a thought:

- It's 2024. Daniel is back in the grid, his hand is completely healed, his curls are thriving. He feels confident again and he's happy. He's in a low dose of antidepressants and the therapy does wonders. 2022 seems really far away.

- He's starting the season in a good mood, flirting his way through the paddock, joking with the Netflix boys. It's Thursday and they're in Australia. Australia, baby, his favourite place in the world. His family is coming to see him race, Isaac being old enough to really enjoy being in the garage. He's curious and funny and Daniel misses him a lot when he's away. He loves Isabella too, she's his princess. But she's not really interested in the sport (yet) and she's in a hardcore Bluey phase. So Isaac asks him if he can go with him to the garage and when they're there, he asks if they can go visit the Red Bull garage because he's obsessed with the RB and to be honest, with Max too. Just like his uncle, Blake likes to say. Usually that makes Daniel to show his karate moves but not for long because Blake is a scary motherfucker sometimes even if he hides it well.

- So to the RB garage they go. They chat with Christian for a bit (Do you want to run for us when you're big, Isaac?, he asks) (And Isaac says yes, yes, yes) and they dodge Helmut when he appears in the garage because he's scary and not in a nice way. (Isaac says he smells like moths and Daniel has to fight really hard not to laugh) and then they spot Max. He's talking with GP but when he sees them, he waves smiling and he talks with Isaac like he's an adult (and even invites him to look into the car and explains to him everything, twice when Isaac asks again about some things).

- And yeah, Daniel has feelings. Like, he knows he had feelings for Max since... Well, a long time ago. He knows but he was scared of being bisexual (thanks Josh Allen for fixing that) and older than Max, and he was scared of being reciprocal because yeah, like Max was his teammate? His hot, younger, faster teammate.

- But now Daniel is (even) older and has learnt to not give a fuck about what people thinks. And yeah, watching Max with his niece? It's doing things to Daniel's heart.

- So yeah, Australia is awesome, racing in Australia is even better, getting points in Australia is a dream come true after these past years. He's high on endorphins and that's his excuse to intercept Max when he's on his way to his driver room after the podium. (Hey, hi, Maxy, Maximus, I was thinking, like, congrats in the podium, by the way, good trophy and all that, but I was thinking of asking you if you wanted to come to Perth?)

- The craziest thing to happen is that Max says yes. No doubts at all, just his big smile that makes his eyes go small and a 'yes, Daniel'.

- PERTH. It goes like this: Max comes to the farm, falls in love with Daniel's house, Daniel's falls in love a bit more with him. And Max knows nothing about it because Daniel is a bit immature but he's not stupid (not about this anyway) and Max is one of his best friends and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

- So he says nothing and he enjoys having this week with Max in his home. They race dirt bikes, they cook together (well, they try) and they play with Isaac and Isabella when they come to visit. And then it's Sunday, a whole week has passed and they're going to fly together soon to Japan. They're enjoying the hot tub after having a nice dinner and Max is laughing at Daniel's impression of Toto and Daniel feels like his chest is filled with helium, feels high, lucky, funny. And that's his excuse to kiss Max.

- Max doesn't stop laughing for a second even in the middle of the kiss and then he stops moving and breathing and Daniel is panicking a bit. Because he knew it would ruin everything, this thing he feels for Max. But then Max's hand is in his neck, drawing him against his lips again, magnets in the dark.

- So yeah, that's a thing they do now. Making out. Heavy petting. Every time it happens, Daniel wants to flail his arms, run in circles, scream like fucking Tarzan. It's like getting a podium over and over again, it's like champagne bubbles getting trapped in his chest. Max kisses him like he races (point-blank, non-stop, making him weak at the knees) and he likes to make Daniel straddle him and he likes to caress his thighs, draw his tattoos again, the three against his lips before kissing each of his fingers.

-It makes Daniel effervescent with happiness and when they're racing in Japan, he's fourth in the race, almost a podium and he comes back to the garage and hugs everyone and laughs and almost cries because he's coming back, baby, he's so coming back. And he goes back to the hotel and doesn't go to his room, he goes straight to Max's room and he doesn't stop to think because he's going to chicken out otherwise.

- And he's on his knees.

- He's on his knees for Max, and he puts his forehead against Max's tummy and kisses his belly button and blows a raspberry against his hip and Max pushes his head away, silly-laughing, and Daniel says let me, let me, please, I won't do it again, Maxy, but let me and Max touches one of his brows and touches his hair and then brings him against his body.

- And kissing Max is like getting a podium but blowing him is getting second place, getting drunk, getting sweaty, getting high-high-high.

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You can read the continuation here.

#f1 #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #so yeah #not beta read #not finished either #im just leaving this here because i need it to leave my mind just for a second #otp: maxiel #my fic

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sadbenedict · 3 months

Text

common questions about Au

received a lot of questions from @chokehoe /thank you very much :D/ to make it more interesting, I've made it into a topic, and I've made some sketches! hope you enjoy!

So for your au where gojo locks geto in his basement, dose geto hate gojo now? Like I can imagine and understand why because he locked him away in basement, but I need to know.

This is a question I've answered before /You can search the hashtag, I could write more about it there/

He takes offence to it, of course, I don't think anyone would like someone locking you up. He still has love, Satoru is not a stranger to him after all, but there will be resentment. I think by the time Yuji shows up, their relationship will be very strained

Also does suguru use Yuji to get himself out? I feel bad for Yuji if so because then he’s gonna be stuck in the middle of that whole fiasco

I think he might take advantage of Yuji's kindness /oh yeah, manipulative Geto/ I think he'll want to get Yuji to take something from Satoru's room / and Yuji will have doubts about Gojo's mental stability/ If Satoru spots him, it's gonna be really creepy….

Was gojo just going to keep suguru locked in his basement forever, or did he have some other plan like suguru becoming a teacher?

I don't think he has any plan since he did it all on emotion. And I don't think Satoru will let him go anywhere now. Maybe he'll try to re-educate him /or maybe he's just calming himself down with these thoughts of re-educating/

Dose suguru have a plan for what he’s going to do if he does get out. Are nanako and mimiko ok in this one?

I think Suguru is just thinking about escaping right now. But even if he does, Satoru can easily find him by scent, will he have enough time to go somewhere before Satoru realises he's escaped? And if he is caught, will Satoru become even more insane? Suguru could also end his life if he realises that he has no other choice /I don't miss that thought/.

Nanako and Mimiko gone and are doing the same things they do in canon

Does anyone else know he’s down there, either by gojo telling them or by finding out by accident?

So far, only Shoko and Yuji know. I'll mention that the action takes place after the alley when Satoru "ki-lled" Suguru. Shoko knows because she healed Suguru /yeah, glued his arm on, that's just how I want it to be/. I think Shoko accepted since Satoru probably scared her, and she doesn't want to lose Suguru. But she probably wasn't surprised by Satoru's decision. To put it shortly

Maybe Megumi and Nobara will start to suspect something if Yuji !accidentally! says something XD like

Yuji: ...haha, yeah, like that strange guy in sensei's basement. Meg/Nob: what

Yuji: what

Also, I can’t stop imagining if the basement was the laundry and gojo & suguru are having some deep conversation and all you hear is the washing machine going in the background.

omg it's interesting! I pictured this place as where Gojo dragged Yuji to. Because, in theory, it could have held Suguru. But maybe then he moved it to another location, as you suggested, or converted this basement into a more habitable space. That's how I imagine this

/the room is quite small, I drew it like this for easy reference/

Has megumi or tsumuki walked into the basement because they needed something and just found suguru there and just didn’t know what to do so they just walked out, or do they not know? I feel like it would be funny but also creepy if they found suguru there because like the laundry used to be down there or something

Oh, this is gonna be really creepy XD I actually like this idea!

I think they'll get very scared and Megumi will probably encourage Nobaru not to ask Gojo since he heard from him about his ex-friend /understood from Gojo's description/ Since it's very strange and creepy, so better not to trigger Satoru

Why was gojos first thought to lock suguru in a basement in the first place?

I think he just realised that Suguru wouldn't be around him normally. And yeah, and he was determined to kill him.

Again, he did everything on emotion and from a selfish point of view. Also, I think he was just tired and just wanted to be around him all the time

@tug-tries-to-draw @morgraythedark @ediblespider @dreamhusbando @myssteriouss-wanderrerr you had similar questions, so I hope you find the answers here! If there are any more, I'll be happy to answer them! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

#au #basement au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanart #jujutsu kaisen #jjk jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu itadori #suguru geto #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #art #digital #digital art #fanart

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sidglorious · 8 months

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TIGERTOK AU MASTERPOST

ok so I was tired of Reblog the same post again and again so since this is something I really enjoy to do : a master post for Tigertok AU and then everything will be posted with the tags #TigerTok or #TigerStar TikTok AU

SO, to resume

As he was going to recrute bloodclan cats, TigerStar is spotted in the street by a cat lady from tiktok. She saw this beautiful maine coon covered in scars and decided to capture him and give him a lot of love in order to gain his trust and heal his injuries. She named him Cookie & has other rescued cats. Tigerstar spend entire days attacking her with all his inner rage but you can't beat tiktok cat ladies this easy you know ?? like she is a professional cat behaviorist or something this kind so she has all the world resilience in her blood and the more he hisses at her the more she loves him and wanna take care of him.

she puts him ridiculous outfits with things like "mister angry furball" written on it and he's becoming a trend on tiktok as she's narrating her journey to gain the trust of her old rescued maine coon

firestar once find out about his worst ennemy fate and it's just became his therapy to come with graystripe & cloudtail in the bushes in front of Tigerstar / cookie home just to make fun of him

Tigerstar is the same vile, violent, bloodthirsty cat we all know but now behind everyone of his criminal acts there is a lady filming him to put him on tiktok.

After eventually getting neutered he gave up his forest life because he couldn't imagine going back to his clan without his balls I guess. he now spend his days grumbling alone in the border of his catio (because, of course, the cat lady has a catio).

I wanted to state that y'all here are so funny, it fuels my shitpost machine so thank you and please take part of the au y'all have so funnies ideas lmao

some doodle - cw scars, blood and suicide joke

#erin hunter warriors #tigertok #tigerstar tiktok au #tigerstar #warrior cats #wc art #warrior cat joke #warrior cats au #warriors au #wc au #warriors

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grapejuicestyless · 7 months

Note

hi, hope you're well! i was wondering if you could write something for conrad based on the song my love mine all mine by mitski? i've been obsessed with it lately and it reminds me off him 💖

My Love, Mine All Mine.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

summery: Y/n has always gave too much. She always loved, believed too easily. She can’t control what others will do with that, but she can control how she loves.

Sorting through the shiny papers, the corners cut into my skin with each photo I crumpled up, tossing it into the shadows. Each memory ingrained forever on a film that would only taunt me with the past.

I hate the way the sun shined through the leaves in each one. How the sand looked so soft under our feet, the ocean bluer than any summer sky could every paint it now. I am reminded of how vibrant the world became with him in my life, when he was mine.

I say that he was mine loosely. I am unsure if I even have the ability to own something so pretty, so precious. If I ever even did. I remember the way my hands would run through his salty curls after a beach day. How he would hold me extra tight, we’d only bring one towel to share. His lap was soft, shorts scrunched up and dripping still.

I think of his lips on mine. How perfectly they fit on mine. I remember how desperate each kiss was. Not once had he ever made it seem like if it were to go no further we would cease to exist, but he was feverish enough with each lick into my mouth where I knew no matter what, he would never be satisfied. He always wanted more, more, more. How foolish of me to believe it was because he could simply not get enough of me, not because I was not enough.

He was kind, showing me affection in ways he swore would only ever be for me. He decorated his walls with love letters and Polaroids of us, of me. He had stacks of our adventures in an old shoebox under his bed for when I was away and he was missing me. He reminded me everyday how much he adored me. Counting down the seconds until he could hold me in his arms. He promised me it was a feeling that nobody else could ever give him. A heart rush that only ever came over him when my name was involved.

So why does he look at her that way? Why must his eyes carry the same shimmer of lust in them that he once held for me? I see the way his hands grip at her hips, her thighs. It’s animalistic in a way, primal. He wants her, needs her. He’s hers.

I remember the night I discovered their secret. My lover and my sister hand in hand one late June night. I stood still on the grass watching over them. My tears came out dry. I couldn’t even try and sob, let myself break. With his leaving just months ago, I’d already rung myself dry of any tears I had left.

It’s funny how something that once made you feel special can make you feel so sick so suddenly. What once gave me a reason for my living killed me so suddenly.

I knew I was always destined to die, to burn out and disappear. I never imagined how it would’ve happened at the hands of the two I trusted the most in my life. Looking up at the moon that night, I prayed to forget, to heal so suddenly. Rid me of the ache in my heart and replace it with a cold emptiness.

He holds her while she sits in my spot on the couch. She laughs at the jokes I told him that now spew from his lips. Her hands find home in his hair and the towel we once shared as become theirs. It’s all reused, it’s the same. He makes her feel special, wanted, lusted after. He’s a damn good actor, he fools the whole damn world with his cruel games.

Now I know better than anyone that when calling him mine, I must use it loosely. At some time, he might have been. The photos I tear up in my room are only proof of our years spent together. Two summers spent doting on each other. He was with me, but could I call him mine? If he left so easily, did he ever even need me? Want me?

I hold the final photo in my hands, the moon shines down on us. We’re only young in the photograph. His cheek is pressed to mine, our smiles touch. We look so free, so happy. I feel guilty if I were to rip it up when it still feels so happy.

Grabbing a pin from the bedside table, I poke it into the wall beside my mountains of other places and people I’ve seen. It sticks out, like it’s been highlighted in bright red. It stings to look at, but it reminds me of a better time, a time when I believed I had the ability to have good things.

Now I know, nothing in this world belongs to me. Not my baby, not my sister’s loyalty. Not my mother, not my brother. I have no control over anything. Yet, each time I allow myself to believe that I do. That I mean something. I pay a price for the immaturity of my heart. I act a fool over the smallest affections, the most discrete love. And I watch as each time it is taken away, leaving me with a heavy chest and a heart far too full for my body. Nothing in this world is mine for free. Nothing in this world belongs to me but my love, mine all mine.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #conrad x you #conrad fisher x reader #team conrad #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x y/n #belly x conrad #conrad

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momotonescreaming · 2 months

Note

💚 + steddie!

Of course! Hope this is the sort of thing you were after 😂

Prompt:💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

---

Eddie was going to die.

Actually, for real this time. The sun was beating down thick and hot, and Eddie was outside. Exercising. Sweating like a sinner in church, smelling like an expired ham, hair sticking to his flushed skin. Sweat plastering it to his forehead, his neck, because he refused to put his hair up.

It wasn't part of his aesthetic, Steve.

He's regretting it now. Some fresh air on his neck sounds delightful right about now. Eddie groans, hands braced on his knees, heaving in a breath through his aching lungs. Gasping in air, arms fucking trembling with the force of keeping himself up. Basketball abandoned on the ground, rolling across the concrete of Steve's driveway. He watches it go, not making a move to stop it. Steve asked if he wanted to shoot hoops with him, and Steve just looked so excited Eddie couldn't say no.

And now he's here, dying in the middle of Steve's driveway. Basketball hoop above him, mounted to the garage wall. Taunting him. A bead of sweat drips down his face, hot and salty.

Steve the bastard, looks fucking energised. Hair swept off of his face, eyes sparkling in the sun, teeth shiny and white as he grins over at Eddie. Skin glowing, tanned and shiny and fresh. He's so in his element right now, it's not even funny. Clad in a stretched out tank top and gym shorts, loose and worn and showing off acres of delicious skin. Thick thighs, chiselled biceps, chest hair on show. Eddie kind of wants to lick him, taste the sweat. Fuck, his boyfriend's so fucking hot.

"Wanna shoot some more?" Steve asks, grinning and raising an eyebrow over at Eddie as he stops the basketball with his sneaker. Glee fucking leaking out of his face, through every sweaty pore.

Eddie groans, tipping his head towards the sky and letting himself tumble dramatically to the ground. Crumple into a sweaty pile in front of the Harrington's garage door. Still groaning, feeling the sun smothering him like a blanket -- Eddie starfishes out on the concrete.

"Can't," he wheezes in reply, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm dead. I'm gone. A magical spell has fallen upon me, cursing my moral flesh to slip into a sleep so deep, no man or mortal can wake me."

"Oh yeah?" Steve says with a smile, raising an eyebrow. He catches Eddie's eye, and lets out a gigglesnort as Eddie makes another melodramatic groan and sticks his tongue out. Closes his eyes against the glare of the sun. "You sure about that?"

"Maybe, just maybe," Eddie starts, opening an eye just enough to look over at Steve. Holds back a grin of his own. "Maybe I could be woken by true love's kiss?"

"Coming right up, Sleeping Beauty," Steve says, humour leaking out through his words. Eddie shutting his eyes again as soon as he spots Steve heading towards him on the ground. Leaning on the concrete next to him, radiating heat. He lets himself breathe, take a moment, as Steve's calloused hands brush his sweaty off of his face. Trail down his face, cradling his cheeks.

And then they're kissing.

Right in the middle of the Harrington's driveway. Slow and sweet and getting deeper with every passing second. Steve tastes like sweat, like the Gatorade he had earlier, as Eddie tries to lick his way into his mouth. Brings his hands up to grasp at whatever part of Steve he can - his tank top, his waist - and hold on tight as Steve kisses him breathless.

---

Send me a heart! Prompt me!

#ask #nburkhardt #heart prompts #My Writing #steddie

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jazzymin97 · 1 month

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Okay okay, hear me out; was watching an episode of SPN and lore hinged idea of the day(episode) was Zanna. Romanian folklore for good spirits that help children? IE Imaginary friends.

— please note I didn’t do further research on Zanna after this; I do plan to but my focus in it is probably gonna be gone tomorrow so please— if SPN fucked this folklore up or my supes basic understanding is very shitty; feel free to correct or add more to it ^^

Now imagine this:

Damian, off somewhere in the manor but easily findable— like the library or something and talking to Danny. Like Danny just shows up and for whatever reason— only Damian can see him. (Whether this be by Danny’s design or it’s some sorta magic thing).

Well anyway, Damian and Danny are chatting and anytime someone gets close enough to try to figure out who Damian is talking to— and they see he’s literally talking to an empty room?? He glares if he spots anyone. It started around the time Bruce was stuck in the timestream. Dick chalked it up to possibly zanna or just the kid making up an imaginary friend to cope with his dad being dead. Dick absolutely mentions it to the others when it doesn’t stop AFTER Bruce is back. Hes just like “be chill guys— he’s a kid. “He’s healing after all that assassin trauma and it’s cute— let him have his friend. “

He’s the only one that Damian has told about Danny. Like basic things

“He’s very knowledgeable about the stars. He glows. You remind him of his overbearing sister.”

And dick, clearly not coping well himself, just takes it as Damian trying to bond with him and encourages him. Doesn’t say one word about this “Danny” being imaginary.

I imagine Cass is like the only one who’s managed to see Danny but knows he’s not danger and Damian likes him.

I think this overly funny reveal would just be Danny appearing in front of the others and coaxing them to go to bed or like stealing food; and they spot him; register him as either dick or Tim, like at first glance because blue eyes black hair— (Like my cousin and my sibling used to have similar shades of hair and do still have the same body figure; so like without my glasses and when I’m distracted, I absolutely will mistake one for the other.) — and then their brain is like “wait no that isn’t right” and they think they absolutely hallucinated him because he legit disappeared right in front of them.

And when it comes to the reveal of “oh yes. This is my friend. Danny.”

Everyone is collectively losing their shit because what in the hell?!? Where did this kid come from?!? How did none of them find him out?!?

#dcxdp #DPxDC #Danny Phatom X DC #zanna #/screaming into the void #damian wayne #Danny Fenton/phantom #batfam X Danny Phantom #batpham #romanian folklore #supernatural #inspired this post #this post can be used as a prompt #please just send me the fic bc I wanna read it

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

Note

that Jon con story was 😳😳🫠 my soul woulda left my body on the spot 😮‍💨 tbh I dunno that I could survive being in the same room as him 🫣 but it’s funny cause ✨ hands ✨ was literally my Frankie request

Imagine you’re in a new relationship with Frankie, slowly testing the waters cause who ain’t a bit broken these days

and you got a thing for ✨ hands ✨ and you think you’re being discreet when you stare at his hands while they do pretty much anything BUT Frankie ain’t a dummy and has noticed and wants to test his theory that you really really like his hands

👀🙏🏻🫠😮‍💨

babes it's the way we literally share the same brain cell bc those HANDS, as soon as I saw this request I literally dropped everything and started working on it. thank you for requesting this and inspiring me to thirst over frankie's hands and helping me kick off this week of celebration. ✨ I adore YOU so MUCH. ❤️

warning: contain explicit sexual content. as always, minors please dni. btw the jon con story in reference can be found here. :) word count: 3.1k

everyone say thank you to my sweet angel baby @jwjeepers for this lovely request to start off this week of celebrating my 500 followers friends milestone! happy slutting over frankie! 🖤

don't hold back.

It was subtle at first. You had a habit of zoning out when you vanished into your thoughts, or were concentrating really hard on something. Frank had noticed it very early on. Sometimes you would disappear for a little bit, getting lost in your own stream of consciousness before finding your way back to him. Frank didn’t think much of it. He found it kind of endearing, actually. He always wondered though, what exactly was going through your head when you had that far off look in your eyes. He wondered what you daydreamed about, and where you went when you stared off into space, curious if he ever popped up in any of those scenes.

The first hint was a few weeks ago when you and Frank had met up with some of your friends for drinks. Frank was in the middle of telling a story, animatedly moving his hands around as he did so, when he caught your gaze out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes were following every single movement of his hands. He didn’t think much of it at first, figuring you were probably just trying to paint a clear picture in your head, so he brushed it off. But then he caught you doing it again. And again. And again. Everytime he used his hands to speak, your eyes were glued to them. Throughout the night as the alcohol dulled your inhibitions, you were more reckless with your lingering stares. Frank had even caught the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth when he wrapped his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle, and his curiosity peaked.

Your relationship was still very new, both of you trying to figure out how to navigate it as cautiously as possible. He was still healing from another lifetime of pain and loss, a piece of him knowing he always would be. You were hypervigilant with your heart due to your mother being an incurable romantic currently on husband number four. Sometimes he thought it was a marvel you two were even together. Frank never talked more than he had to, and you were more on the shy and quiet side. It had taken Frank just as long to get you to open up to him about your feelings as it had taken you to get him to open up about his. He never imagined he would even want to open his heart up to someone else again, but there was something special about you. Something in your soul that called out to his. He still remembers the day you first met, and the way you had smiled at him. He knew right then he was done for.

He didn’t know what you saw in him. Frank could never fully wrap his head around why the hell out of anyone, and oh you could have fucking have anyone, you chose him. Over and over again, day after day, you chose him. He waited for you to change your mind, break out of whatever trance you were under, and leave him. But you never did. He was constantly torn between wanting to show you his worst to see if you would stay, and wanting to prove to you that he was the man you believed he was so that you would stay.

Frank savored every part of your relationship, taking his time to enjoy every piece of it fully. He never went farther than what he was absolutely sure you were comfortable with. He let you set the pace, always following your lead, worrying that if he got carried away he would fuck everything up. The first time you let him kiss you, he felt dizzy with adoration and his lips tingled for hours afterwards. And the first time you let him make love to you? Frank fucking swore he believed in heaven, because he had found it inside your body. Little by little, your confidence blossomed, and Frank was able to coax more of what you liked out of you to make sure he was always doing everything exactly right. Nothing filled him with more pride than pleasing you.

He didn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable, but he was dying to know what you were hiding from him. Everytime he caught you staring at his hands, you would immediately redirect your eyes and blush profusely. Frank thought he had somewhat of an idea of what was going on, so he decided to test out his theory.

Frank used his hands as much as possible over the course of the next few days. If you were struggling to reach something, he would come up behind you and splay his large hand on your lower back, never once missing the way your lips parted and a flush crept onto your cheeks in response. Frank wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, but he made it a point to hold onto your hand every time you went somewhere together, or place his hand just high enough on your thigh to get a silent reaction out of you everytime you sat next to him or rode with him in his truck. He especially loved doing that when you wore dresses or skirts, brushing his calloused fingers along your soft skin in slow strokes. Frank would catch the way your eyes widened slightly, and a devious smirk would curl at the corner of his mouth. He even went as far as getting into a fight with some drunk asshole in a dive bar, cracking his fist roughly against the guy’s jaw, just to come home to let you assess the damage and fix him up. He didn’t need you to, his knuckles were barely even bruised, but he wanted to see the way you would react to getting to examine his hand up close. The hitch in your breath as he held it out for you and the way your eyes swelled with lust as you delicately grazed your fingertips over his angry knuckles had his cock thrashing against his jeans. He had figured you out, and now he just needed to find a way to get you to ask for what he knew you wanted.

Frank had you on his lap, one hand placed firmly on the middle of your back to hold you in place against him, and the other loosely wrapped around your throat as he gently grabbed your jaw in his fingers. He took his time kissing at that sensitive spot at the base of your neck he knew drove you crazy. He figured if he could get you worked up enough, needy and desperate for more, that you would open up and bloom for him. He just needed to guide you there. Frank could practically feel the thundering rhythm of your heart pounding against his own chest. He swallowed every breathless pant that escaped your lips. An impatient whine echoed off your tongue and he grinned. Frank had you exactly where he wanted you.

He purposefully kept his hands still in their places, focusing solely on his gentle assault on your neck with his lips and tongue, occasionally nipping at your collarbone. He could tell you were getting restless by the way your hips started to tenuously rock back and forth, your fingers once loosely threaded in his hair now tugging slightly.

“Frank…please…”

“Please what, darlin’? Hm?”

You huffed in response, earning a throaty chuckle from him, and grabbed a small fistfull of the collar of his shirt to tug him closer, even though there was hardly an inch of space between you two.

“Please.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Want you, Frank.”

“Nah, think you can do better than that. C’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

Frank tried not to laugh at the futile way you attempted to tear his lips away from your neck to bring his face closer to yours, your hips now picking up a more purposeful speed. Patience was not your virtue, and he knew it wouldn’t take much more teasing until you broke. He would wait.

“Fraaaaank. Please, I told you. I want you.”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me, baby.”

Frank pulled back just slightly to look into your eyes, taking in the furrow of confusion in your brows and the adorable pout on your lips. He tightened his hold on your throat, your chin firmly grasped between his thumb and index finger. He reveled in the way your eyes grew in bewilderment, and your hips stuttered to a stop.

“I think you want somethin’ in particular, but you’re too shy to ask. Yeah?”

Your lips parted slightly as a shuddering breath slipped past, and Frank took the opportunity to swipe the pad of his thumb deliberately across your bottom lip. Your hand flew up to grab onto his forearm, gripping onto it tightly. He stared at you silently for a second, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and he took that as a signal to experimentally push his thumb past your plump lips. You greedily accepted it in your mouth, closing your eyes for a moment as you swirled your tongue around it and sucked softly, even giving the tip a gentle bite. A small grunt sounded in the back of his throat and Frank found himself pathetically rock hard beneath you.

He swiftly retracted his thumb from your mouth with a pop, a twinge of embarrassment sparking in him that if he let you keep doing that, he’d no doubt come on the spot. Both of you stared at each other for a moment in silent astonishment. Frank cocked his head to the side slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye as that familiar cocky smirk appeared on his lips.

“Ain’t feelin’ so shy now, are ya?”

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, unable to tear your eyes away from Frank’s relentless stare. It made you feel even smaller than you already did with him. He clicked his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head slowly as his thumb pulled your bottom lip free from your teeth.

“Uh uh. If you’re feelin’ brave enough to take my thumb in your mouth like you do my cock, then you can be a big girl and use your words, yeah? You gonna tell me what you want now, sweetheart?”

Frank’s shameless words shot straight down to your core and you couldn’t stifle the pitiful whine that sounded from you. You closed your eyes for a moment to regain your composure, far too turned on to even be embarrassed that Frank had caught on to you. You weren’t sure why you even would be embarrassed. Frank always gave you everything you asked for without hesitation. But sex between the two of you so far had been gentle and loving, not that you didn’t adore or enjoy that, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that you wanted more. You weren’t sure what he would think of you if you told him what you really wanted him to do to you.

“Your hands.”

“What about ‘em, baby?”

“I think you kinda already know.”

“I do. Wanna hear you say it though.”

The smug grin on his mouth had you whining in agitation. It was no use putting up a fight. Frank wasn’t going to give up until you gave in, and his willpower was much stronger than yours. Swallowing your pride, you stared directly into his deep brown eyes, a wicked idea forming in your head. If he was going to play this game, so could you.

“I love your hands, Frank. I love how big they are, how long your fingers are. I know they can reach so much deeper than mine can. Your fingers could get me to come so much faster than mine ever could. I love the way it feels when you touch me. I want you to touch me more, Frank. I want you to grab me and not be afraid to leave marks. I want you to squeeze my throat when you fuck me. I want-”

Frank didn’t give you a chance to finish before he was pulling you in by your throat and crashing his lips onto yours. His other hand was already bunching your dress up around your hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties until his thumb found your clit. You moaned into his mouth and Frank had to channel all his self-control into not combusting right then and there because you were already so wet. He had never heard you talk like that but fuck did he want to hear more of it. He always felt like you were holding back with him, maybe just as much as he was with you, and he’d be damned if he let this side of you slip back into the shadows again.

One of his long fingers slipped easily into your entrance and he broke apart from your lips just in time to watch the way your face contorted in pleasure as a sigh of content filled the space between you. Frank was mesmerized by you, eyes fixated solely on your face as he began to fuck you slowly with his finger, his thumb grazing over your clit gently. You were practically begging for more already, breathless whimpers and pleas tumbling from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulder blades when he granted your request and pushed another finger past your entrance. Frank glanced down in awe to watch the way you moved your hips against his hand, wanting so badly for it to be his cock instead. He decided right then and there you were going to ride him for the first time tonight. You were so close to the edge already just from his fingers, and Frank’s ego soared at seeing how much of an effect he had on you.

“This what you wanted baby, hm? Just wanted me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes Frank…God, please…don’t stop.”

“All you had to do was ask darlin’, you know I’d never say no to you. You know how much I love makin’ my pretty girl happy, don’t you?”

You couldn’t focus on anything other than the way Frank was plunging his fingers into you repeatedly, the sounds of your wetness squelching around his fingers quickly filling the living room. The faster you rocked your hips, the more brutal his pace became, and you loved it. You nodded your head quickly at his words, feeling dizzy at the way he said my pretty girl.

“You gonna tell me what you want from now on so I can give it to ya, hm? Give you whatever you want baby, just gotta ask. Or hell, you ain’t even gotta ask. You just take my hand and guide it where ya need it. If that’s what you want, you take it. You want my cock, take it. You take whatever the hell you want. It’s all yours, understand? You take what’s yours, yeah?”

All you could do was moan in response. Between Frank’s dangerously gruff voice and indelicate words, and the way he was curling his fingers and brushing along that spongy spot inside you that had you doubling over in indulgence, you couldn’t form any other word but his name.

“Attagirl. You gonna come for me now, sweetheart? Hm? Gonna soak my hand? Yeah you are, I can feel it. Look at you, already making a mess on my lap and you ain’t even there yet. Go on baby, come on my fingers. Don’t hold back, let me have it all, yeah? Go on, make a mess on me. Let me fuckin’ have it.”

A tsunami of rapture collided so hard into you that it knocked the breath completely out of your chest. You collapsed against Frank, barely able to hold yourself up on his lap as you meagerly tried to ride out the wave of pleasure. Frank’s deft fingers continued to work you over, wringing every single drop of pure bliss from you until he was certain there wasn’t an ounce of satisfaction he had missed. He wrapped his arm tightly around your waist to hold you against him, brushing his lips along the shell of your ear as he encouraged you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, there we go. That’s my girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl. Make me so proud baby, so fuckin’ proud. I got you, sweetheart.”

After a few minutes, you were finally able to get your breathing under control, your vision becoming less and less fuzzy as you fully regained coherency. Frank gazed down at you lovingly, brushing your hair away from your face and tucking a strand of it behind your ear. You blinked a few times as he came into focus, staring into his deep mahogany eyes. You blushed at the look he was giving you, a cheeky grin coupled with a quizzically arched brow.

“So, my girl’s a little kinky, hm? You been holdin’ back on me this whole time?”

You couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face into Frank’s chest to escape his taunting stare.

“I was nervous!”

“What the hell for? You think I wouldn’t like it or somethin’?”

“I didn’t know. You’re always so…gentle with me. You always take it slow, and touch me like I’m made of glass. Not that I mind that, I don’t at all. I like when you’re sweet to me. I just…I guess I wasn’t sure what you wanted, or what you would think of me if I told you what else I liked.”

Frank gently grabbed at your throat, holding your face in his fingers so that you couldn’t look away. There was a timid smile on his lips and an uncertain vulnerability floating around in his eyes.

“Baby, I take it slow because I don’t wanna push you. I never wanna do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable. I’ve been lettin’ you call the shots this whole time, decidin’ what we do and when we do it, followin’ your lead, ya know? Look I…I just don’t wanna fuck this up. That’s all.”

“What if I don’t wanna call the shots? What if I want you to?”

Frank sucked in a deep breath at your words, unable to ignore the way they made his cock twitch in his jeans.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

“It is.”

“But-”

“Frank, I trust you, and I can take a lot more than you give me credit for. If I feel like I can’t handle something or don’t like it, I’ll tell you, and I trust that you’ll respect that. I promise I won’t hold back anymore if you don’t.”

“Alright, sweetheart. You got yourself a deal.”

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher fic #the punisher request

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 6 days

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04/21/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Leslie Jones; Nat Torres; SaveOFMDCrew - Let's Get OFMD an Emmy; Fan Spotlight; Love Notes; Daily Darby/ Tonight's Taika

== Rhys Darby / Cryptid Factor ==

So our fabulous Captain has shared a video of him ghost hunting in a haunted hotel! The only way to access it (as you can see below) is to sign up for the $10 Cryptid Factor Patreon. Link here. It's cute and funny, and you get access to all of the other Cryptid Factor vids and a lot of other cool perks.

== Taika Waititi ==

Another pic of Taika From Sydney Trip for Rita's launch of TypeBea

Img Src: @fuckyeahworldoftaika

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie spotted out on 4/20!

Img Src: @comedianpinkfoxx IG

== Nat Torres ==

Just a quick couple pics of Nat in hats!

Img Src: Nat Torres IG

== Save OFMD Crew ==

Today SOFMD crew is working on more engagement to get OFMD an Emmy! Artwork by @erostheartist

Feel free to reach out to SOFMD crew on any of the platforms and share your favorite OFMD Season 2 Costumes! Save OFMD Crew Linktr.ee

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

And who could forget the guy who pointed out that Blackbeard was out on a treasure hunt! Annnnd immediately got threatened! Thank you @melvisik for highlighting Enrique Renaldo! He really took one for the team there!

== Colouring Pages ==

More colouring pages from the ever-lovely @patchworkpiratebear! Please click the images below to go to their tumblr pages!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Here we are again-- coming up on Monday. I really hope you all got a chance to get some rest this weekend, a chance to be creative, a chance to heal up a bit for the coming week. Refueling is incredibly important in keeping the ever wonderful you up and running.

Tonight I wanted to get a little sappy and tell you just how amazing you are. Seriously, have you thought lately about just how much went into where are you are today? Millions of years of evolution, thousands of years of civilization for your parents to meet, have you and then so many years of growing, learning, living, and here you are the way you are today. The amount of complex interactions that had to occur to make you are impossible to ever quantify.

You are a unique, beautiful, glorious creature, and when you were born, you had infinite potential for the coming years. You were wonderful, and sweet, and you meant so much to the world around you.

Today, you are both the same, and a different person as you were then. You are different in experience, and growth, but you are still the same beautiful, fantastic, full of potential creature you were the moment you breathed air for the first time. That hasn't changed.

You were worthy of love then, and you're worthy of love now.

You were beautiful then, and you may look different, but you're even more beautiful now.

Your potential was infinite back then, and guess what? It's still infinite. There is so much to do in this life, and you WILL get where you want to be one day (if you're not already there).

You also mean so much to the world around you. The players may have changed, or stayed the same, but you still mean the world to those who love you, whether they say it or not.

You are a tiny shining speck in the grand scheme of time on this planet, and yet, you make such an impact on every other speck you encounter, and just like the millions of years before you, you are instrumental in the backstory of someone yet to come.

You don't have to have kids, to make that kind of an impact (although if you do that's it's own path) even just interacting with others, giving kindness where there wasn't any before can cascade and make a world of difference, which then spreads in it's own infinite direction to the future.

Your life matters. Your love matters. You matter.

Rest well lovelies, sweet dreams.

Img Src: @/TheGoodQuote's IG

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is "Out of Context"

Gifs courtesy of @thunderwingdoomslayer and @mermaidstede!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #save ofmd #taika waititi #long live ofmd #adopt our crew #save ofmd crew #leslie jones #nat torres #the cryptid factor #rhys darby faction

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alltheboysandgirlsiloved · 22 days

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So I've been trying to get a gist of post-time skip Ben based on Chaos Theory trailer (obsessed again? wrong, I never stopped being obsessed), and I feel like I can optimistically assume that his personality will make sense for his character development that we've seen in Camp Cretaceous.

I made a post about it once but to sum it up shortly:

season 1 Ben is a boy who was clearly raised in some sort of bubble (a different bubble than Kenji) - he is scared and anxious (not just regarding dinosaurs); at the same time we get hints that he can be very passionate and has a sense of an adventure (he's just scared to cross the line). Season 2 Ben experienced a massive traumatic event, to put it nicely, his personality was put into a blender which was then turned on and left unsupervised for several days. His season 2 jungle boy persona, while still consistent with the traits showed prior (as mentioned - Ben was both passionate and adventurous before - he was just too shy to act on it), is mostly a result of a severe trauma; meaning his personality feels more extreme because he had to rely on extremes to survive. Season 3 Ben is one of the most interesting "forms of evolution". The trauma is still fresh but at the same time Ben tries to think beyond it – wants to make decisions based not on "fight or flight" response but on his own feelings on the matter, it's very interesting but in this season - though not visibly - he slightly reconnects with season 1 personality (slightly) for example by considering advantages and disadvantages of his actions (leaving Nublar or staying) (it doesn't apply to every situation which is actually quite perfect because at this point he is still pretty damn traumatized). Then we have season 4 which is actually very important for Ben's character arc because, for the second time, he loses his footing - Nublar was wild but familiar, Nublar was 'never without Bumpy'. Mantah Corp Island is completely new and Ben is forced to reestablish what actions and behaviors are going to pay off in this environment; ironically enough, I think that the distance from Nublar is good for him - Nublar was also the environment where he got traumatized, personally I think that the island could, to some extent, prevent him from healing. And ofc, season 5 - Ben shows clear signs that he is going to evolve as a person; he mellows down not because he gets soft in a bad way but because he recognizes that he doesn't always have to be a knife. At the same time, he is not hesitant to strike if the situation calls.

So, now let's take a quick look at Ben in the Chaos Theory trailer. I noticed four traits that we can spot in that short clip:

He has that sort of shy-silly boy charm to him. A subtle mixture of bashfulness ("hey Darius," his voice is amused but he also sounds a bit apologetic). That is something that especially shines through his character in season 1

When he needs to be serious - he is ("Someone is hunting us"). This is such Ben-thing to do, especially in season 4 and season 5 Ben – when he is learning how to distinguish between a real danger and something that doesn't require setting the world on fire.

He gets slightly panicky sometimes ("before it's too late!") which is a fantastic news because trauma really messed up Ben's sense of danger and it's just good to knows that he feels fear like a normal person (yes, when someone is hunting you for sport, I guess everyone would be a little bit panicky)

From what I can tell - when the situation calls he does display signs of recklessness - notice how he's driving the car. Notice how Darius is visibly not impressed with Ben behind the wheel. Now, sure we can't tell whether someone (something?) is chasing them at that exact moment but either way - it seems that Ben is in a hurry and, excuse me but, he does not give a flying fck about safety on the road (which is! funny considering how he was driving the gyrosphere in season 1)

So yeah, overall, I think that we are going to get a nice continuation of Ben's character arc in Chaos Theory. I certainly hope so because watching Ben grow as a person was one of my favorite aspects of Camp Cretaceous!

Ah, and also... I really hope that at some point in Chaos Theory Ben will do something unhinged out of nowhere and the rest of the campers (because we will see all of them - I don't doubt that) will look at each other, nod, and say "ah, yes, that's our Ben"

#jwcc #camp cretaceous #jurassic world camp cretaceous #ben pincus #jwcc ben #jurassic world #jurassic world chaos theory

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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

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Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: we're taking a turn for the weirder, next chapter will be slightly more comfort than hurt (you know, as much as i know how to write comfort). for now, all we have is darkness and edginess. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (wow that never fking happens on this blog), Soulmates, Emotional Torture, Biting (not the sexy kind), like...a teeny tiny smidge of cannibalism.

Summary: The psychological torment of being chosen for the Devil tips over as he visits you in your sleep.

PT.1

At first, you're not aware that you're dreaming. A strange haze falls over your vision, as if you've just woken up from a devastating fever. Your limbs sway slowly, like you're treading through honey. It fascinates you, the way the light of a streetlamp flickers over your fingers, as you raise your hand. Bare feet on the concrete, your toes contract, pebbles stuck to the skin. The air feels weird on your skin, like liquid pouring over your form in an invisible cascade. It feels real enough, yet so far away.

You remember falling asleep on Bobby's guest bed, brought down by the events of the night. What were those events, you couldn't remember, but you can smell smoke swirling in your nose and your eyes are puffy with tears. You sniffle, swipe your hand across your face and feel as if by this simple gesture, your skin has been pulled like fresh taffy. Perhaps you have died in your sleep. The thought is, for some reason, incredibly funny to you, and from somewhere far away you can hear a voice, strangely similar to yours, giggle. It echoes through your skull like a church bell, and you groan at the reverberating sound.

- Crossroads? Really? - you turn around without any grace in your movement, as another voice rings out right next to you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel all the muscles in your body constric, then relax forcefully, as if some invisible strength was trying to keep you docile.

There he stands. So human, so plain, it tugs on your heart in a way you were not expecting. Lucifer. His hands clasped in front of him, red spots and abrasions decorating his skin in a grotesque display. Sick, your brain supplies, he looks sick, as if he's starting to rot where he stands, and suddenly, in this strange dream the worst possible feeling comes to surface. You pity him, truly and deeply. Normally you'd jot it down to caring for the poor man he has chosen for his temporary vessel, but here, where reality doesn't exist, you can't force yourself to entertain this lie. Your fingers flex at your sides, a need to heal, to help, pushing at them to come forward, to cradle his face like he did to yours.

God help you, you wanted to help this monster.

Then, his words register in your brain, and you finally look around.

You're in the middle of a cement road, somewhere you don't recognize, and sure enough, there is a crossroad. You haven't been to one in such a long time. Not since Dean got dragged to hell and pushed by grief, you were about to do something unbelievably stupid. You remember begging. Actually begging a demon to take your soul, to save your friend, only to be met with a cruel laughter and emptiness so profound, it nearly broke you. Shame washes through you like a sudden wave, and you try to keep some integrity by encircling your chest with your arms. It does you little to no comfort, and Lucifer cocks his head to the side, as if he's in tune with your emotions.

- Do you dream of this place often? - Lucifer asks, walking around you at a slow pace.

You don't know how to respond. Do you? Perhaps that is the case, perhaps somehow you've always had some sort of connection to the crossroads, where the most wicked of deals were made. Perhaps it was all his fault, from the very beginning. You nod, once, not trusting your own voice, and the Devil flashes you a quick smile, before his expression darkens, as if he's deeply in thought. There are prominent shadows falling over his face, his eyes sunken even more than you remember.

- I can't find you - he finally looks up at you, and your heart stops just for a second - You're invisible to me, I wonder, why is that?

Castiel, you immediately think, and you have to look away from him at the memory of your friendly neighborhood Angel carving Enochian symbols into your bones. It's almost like you can feel them, beneath your skin, beneath the muscle and the guts. Not hurting, not really. Just, there. A constant reminder, that you're hunted by a being that feels entitled to your very existence. Being, which is currently taking small steps towards you, looking over your body as if you were a piece of prime meat in a display case at a grocery store.

- You're hiding from something you cannot stop - he says, and you feel the coldness of his breath on your collarbones - It's Dad's will after all.

That, for some reason, wakes you up from your previous stupor. Shaking your head, you try to take a step back, a litany of "no's" spilling from your lips. To that, he frowns, grabs at your shoulders to keep you in place, and with a sudden wave of horror you realize, you can't move. And you want to move so badly, your body feels as if it's tearing itself in half. White fire, cold burning floods you, when his hands make contact with your skin, fingers skimming over the flesh of your arms, dragging down and down, until they grab at your wrists.

- I don't want this - there's conviction in your voice you were not expecting, because truly and deeply, you fucking hate this situation, this responsibility which has been placed upon you without your knowledge or consent.

Lucifer laughs an airy laugh.

Gently, as if you're a porcelain doll, he brings your hands closer to his face. He maneuvers your fingers, eyes watching with fascination at the way your knuckles move under your skin. The tendons, the veins, he swallows it all with a greedy gaze, and the coldness of his breath makes hairs stand at the back of your neck.

- I'm not particularly thrilled by this revelation myself - he whispers to your fingertips - I mean, isn't this insulting? To force me to care for a thing I swore to hate.

You shudder at the sudden harshness in his voice, and his hands dig further into the meat of your wrist. Reminding yourself that this is just a dream, you try to steel your nerves, focus on leveling your breathing, on freeing yourself from his grasp. It's harder than you anticipate, trying to collect any sort of self-preservation, while your mind is cradled by the smothering blanket of whatever dream-magic has been placed on you.

- But then again, I am a child of an absent father - something akin to mirth flashes through his face, and as he looks up at you, eyes gleaming with something you're too scared to decipher, you're convinced you'll never truly escape him - And such a gift... - he sighs deeply within his chest, pressing the scarred surface of his cheek to your palm - Well, who am I to deny it?

Your face twists into an expression of disgust, and with a whine, you tear yourself away, craning your body as far from him as it is willing to go. Which arguably isn't much. His grip on your body tightens, arms digging into you, as he forces a perversion of a hug onto your unwilling frame.

- I've killed for less - he whispers into your ear, and revels in the way your entire body shivers - You're really lucky, and I don't think you quite realize how much.

- I don't want to be lucky - painted nails dig into the cotton of his shirt, as you try your hardest to hurt him, force him to back up, or just react to your defiance in any other way than patronizing indifference. - I want nothing to do with you, I don't want you.

To that, he humms low in his throat, and you whimper, as cold lips descent upon the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You can't truly describe the kind of fear he brings upon you, but your entire body seems to surrender despite your best efforts at doing otherwise. Must be magic, you reason. He must've placed you under some kind of a spell, there is no other explanation.

- Don't you think you're being just a tad ungrateful? - he asks, nose dragging along your artery - I mean, here I am, ready to love you, to care for you, to accept you as the gift that you are... - he takes a long drag of your hair, savoring the scent as your knees start to buckle - And you're ready to throw it all away because, what exactly? Because I'm what my Father has made me?

- Because you're a monster, only capable of hurting others - you seethe through your teeth, and immediately get cut off, when presses your bodies tighter together, something worryingly similar to a growl resounding deep within his chest.

- Is that what you think?

You've made a mistake, immediately you can recognize that. Playing the tough guy in front of the literal Devil, while having no real idea of the supposed bond tying you both together, wasn't your smartest moment. Cold sweat forms on your forehead, when Lucifer extends his hands out, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. Then, looking at you from that small distance, he gives you a strangely bored look. Like he has seen everything you've done play out in front of him a million times, like he knows all there is to know about you.

God save you, you hate that look more than any atrocity he has committed.

- Don't look at me like that - bravery, or stupidity, you can't decide as words leave your mouth in a snarl. - You don't know anything about me.

- I know all that's important - he counters - I know God made you for me.

He takes a step closer, and suddenly you've grown very tired of this constant dance. His hands massage their way towards your shoulders, where he grips you tight and drags you towards him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest, but he straightens you out forcefully, like you're some doll he can maneuver all he likes.

- I know you're rebellious, just like me - his whisper seeps into your very being, as if you've become infected by his gentle tone - You're lonely, just like me.

You want to shake your head no, you really want to, but he keeps you frozen, enchanted by his sudden closeness, and the barely noticable note of vulnerability hidden in his grey eyes.

Sam and Dean flood your mind. Your boys, your closest friends. The times you've spent together were few and far between, but you cherish them. You truly do. Which is why, your heart breaks at the realization, that Lucifer is right. Despite the bars, and the hunts, and the long drives, you're lonely. Loneliness follows you like a shadow, too ingrained into your bones to ever leave. But not right now, never when he's around.

- It's okay, you know - Lucifer sighs, leaning down to kiss right between your collarbones - Sooner or later you'll realize, there's no shelter, no hideout where I wouldn't find you. That's true love, babe.

- Stop - a plea slips between your lips, quiet and pathetic, reminiscent of when you've fallen to your knees, begging a demon to bring your friend back.

What you were pleading for this time, you couldn't really comprehend, all you know is, you don't want to do this. You can't do this, and if this really was true love, wasn't he supposed to understand?

The beating of your hear escalates, when he moves to grab at your face, hands so perfectly fitting alongside your jaw. He turns your head from side to side, as if wanting to commemorate every angle, etch it into his mind. If it were any other man, you'd be over the moon. If he wasn't a threat of catastrophic magnitude, just waiting to end the lives of your friends and everyone on Earth, you would've craned your neck further, given him access. Accepted your fate.

Yet, when his cold lips press into yours, it's so easy to forget why you've been unwilling all this time. He's gotten better at it, you muse, as he kisses your unmoving mouth, trying to pull some reaction out of you. Finally, you gasp, when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down hard enough to draw blood. Immediately he takes advantage, thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw, until you have no choice, but to open up to him. It's nauseating, the way he kisses you, as if he needs to map out the insides of your mouth right this instance.

Lucifer pulls away so suddenly, for a second you follow his mouth before steeling yourself. Blood trickles down from your bitten lips, and he launches at the small streak. Tongue laps at the skin of your chin, licking off every trace of red, and the sound he makes is downrigh sinful. Then, emboldened by your taste, his hands push upwards, the muscles of your neck straining, as he moves your head back.

The skin of your throat is exposed and pulled taunt, and your entire body is ready to collapse, when he presses open mouthed kisses along your trachea. Then, as you let out a whimper, he moves to the side, kissing and licking a line towards your pulse point. He stays there for a moment, dragging his teeth down the cullumn of your throat, hard enough to make you squirm in discomfort. From gentle coaxing, his ministrations took a sharp turn to roughter territories.

- So sweet - Lucifer muses to himself, taking another whiff of your scent - I could just eat you up.

Something in his tone of voice startles you. It's not a cute love confession, a cliche line from a romantic movie. From his lips, it sounds daunting, like a promise he can't wait to fulfill. Your eyes swipe downwards, but all you can see is the top of his head, as he dips down to further abuse your throat. He's not gentle by any means, all teeth and no comfort with the way he nibbles at the skin behind your ear. It's pleasurable, or it would be, if it were any other person, or a person at all.

Then, the air seems to shift, a sinister streak you're not familiar with crawls the lenght of your back, and you tremble like a caught bird in his unwavering grasp. As if sensing the change, his hands switch the hold on your face, supporting the underside of your jaw and chin, pulling up and up, until you have to stand on your tippy toes.

- Perhaps I should - ringing fills your ears as tears flood the corners of your eyes - Perhaps that will show you, who you belong to.

And with that, he pulls back. Like a priest raising his cup at the Holy Communion, he raises your head, eyes roaming across the marks he has made on your throat. And then, he dives down, jaw open, teeth glistening in the darkness of the night.

You can feel it all, as he tears through skin and muscle, sinking into your trachea as if taking a bite out of a ripe apple. Your scream sounds so far away, so muddled, for a moment you can't recognize it's you that's screaming. Then, he pulls back with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and your voice dies down in a gargle. Blood floods your mouth, spills through your teeth, a waterfall of red soaking your entire front. Through hazy vision you see him chew and swallow, and the sight churns your insides, as you double over, bile quickly making it's way up what's left of your throat.

Except, it doesn't hit the pavement. It lands on the wooden floors of Bobby's guest room. Confusion barely registers in your panicked state, as you roll off the bed, grabbing at the gaping wound in your throat. A wound that isn't there at all. Phantom pain wrenches a series of shouts from you, like an animal caught in a trap. Begging from help. Knowing it will recieve none. The coarse surface of the floor scratches at your thighs, as you push yourself into a nearest corner, tears mixing with sweat on your face.

That's when Dean rushes in, Sam right after him. Any other day, you'd consider their company a blessing, but right now all you can think of, is what Lucifer has in store for them. How he can hurt them, to get to you. Castiel teleports into the room soon after, and you wish the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole.

- He was... - you wince, voice creaking like old hinges - He was in my dream.

That's all Sam needs to cross the room and kneel in front of you, gently pulling at your hands, which are still clutching the non-existent wound on your throat. The skin is red and raw, nail marks trail down from under your chin to your collarbones, but there is nothing else.

- I know - Sam whispers, arms encircling you in a warm hug, that just feels like entrapment - I know, I'm so sorry.

Deep down you know, he understands. The weight of being promised to the Devil, the torment he can bring upon a person, the fear. But right now, all you can feel are teeth, and lips, and hands which are too cold to be anything other than a monster.

Castiel has questions, you can see it, in the way his eyes scan the room, fall on your shaking frame, still pushed into a corner. He doesn't ask them, thankfully, opting to gruffly mutter something about checking the wards around the house. Bobby yells from his office, Dean yells back. You try to focus on the warmth coming from Sam's chest. You stay like that for a couple more minutes, before finally, calming down enough to stand up and wipe your tears off your face with a heavy hand.

- We'll figure something out - Sam supplies his usual response to anything Apocalypse related.

What used to be a hopeful promise, right now sounds more like a hollow echo.

Dean keeps his opinions to himself, chewing on them as he hands you a beer fresh out of the fridge. Only when the liquid freezes it's way down your pipes, you are certain your throat is where it should be. Your brain is coming back as well, rebellion, loneliness, all the traits Lucifer has read from you. They mix with anger, slowly rising within your chest, because fuck that. Fuck him, fuck God and fuck every single entity responsible for your current predicament.

- Yeah - you force yourself to sound convinced - Yeah, we'll kick his fucking ass.

#my writing #supernatural #lucifer x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn lucifer #spn #spn x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #besties i don't think we can “power of love” this one through

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