#here *hands over the contents of my brain*
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Fei Wu | Ladydragon
I'd like to see people as people, think of them as stories - their smallest pleasures, their greatest joys, their disappointments, their successes.
#hiiii#this was the product of me latching onto fei as a blorbo again so#here *hands over the contents of my brain*#ml#mlb#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir#ml shanghai#ml shanghai special#ml fei#ml fei wu#fei wu#ladydragon#renlings#ml gifs#ml gif#mledit#ml edit
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❝ 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 ! ❞
꒰ FEATURING ! ꒱. g. satoru, f. toji, n. kento, g. suguru, k. choso
꒰ CONTENT WARNINGS ! ꒱. explicit content, foul language, lots of unrealistic expectations (note. title itself), overstimulation (m+f), dickdrunk!reader, dumbification, usage of toys, squirting, spanking, very light spit play, anal, 69 position, breeding kink, unprotected sex, toji’s kinda mean and choso can’t tell the difference between pussy and an asshole. if i forgot anything else my bad !
serena’s note. BUT I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAK !!! LIKE A G !!!
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.
“fuh—fuck, oh shit, hah fuck— ‘ts so fuckin’ good!”
you bounced up and down his cock, surface of your palms pressed at the planes of his chest. you enveloped his length entirely, every single inch, in your pulsating pussy, driving the both of you to madness.
it’d been hours, and for whatever was in the air tonight, you both fucked like wild animals. your thighs burned from over-exhaustion, but you were relentless. you were desperate for another orgasm, the slide up and down his inches effortless due to your juices soaking his thighs and his cum from having nutted inside you multiple times prior.
gojo’s firm hands grabbed at your ass, fingers gripping tightly into your soft flesh, grounding you in position so you wouldn’t run. as if you would anyway, tongue lolled out and drool leaking from your rosy tongue and dribbling down his bottom lip.
“that’s it,” he encourages you, a faint smirk at his lips as he guides you down his length. the fucked out look on your face, your dazed eyes crossing to the centre of your face serves a huge ego boost. “my pretty girl—fuckin’ ride this dick baby, ‘s all yours—mmh,”
the sinful sound of your pussy squelching, folds latching at the tip of his dick before ramming yourself down, the lustful melody of your skin slapping against him in addition to the firm spanks of encouragement on your ass, with your high pitched mewls and squealing sounded like divine music to gojo’s ears.
you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down, went back to bouncing up and down, made circles and figure eight shapes on his length, mindlessly dragging your hips wherever felt fit. you were so far past a point of euphoria you weren’t even sure if liquids could come out of you for the rest of the night.
“eyes here princess,” gojo brings a hand to cup your jaw, forcing your head back down to face him. “pretty pussy’s griping me so tight—fuck,”
your sweaty foreheads press together, and you clock that he knew you were on the brink of yet again another orgasm. cerulean orbs peered deeply into yours, his hips jerking up and meeting your bounces, aiming to bring you to that high as quickly as he can.
“sa—satoru!” you find is the only thing that comes up in your mushed out brain, the new angle of the position having his dick puncture your cervix. you felt so fucking full of him, so drunk on the pleasure that you failed to notice the coiling in your stomach snapping.
he squeezes at your ass cheeks as hard as he can, the painful pleasure obliging you to sit and take his ramming. he fucks into you with intensity, each drag of his cock at your walls sending you into a temporary state of immobility. your muscles tense as you feel yourself wash with yet again another white-blinding orgasm.
your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, throat exhausted while nothing yet everything is said. satoru pumps his creamy cum back into your womb, praising you for taking him in so well, for having a perfect pussy that’ll surely carry his children, all snug and warm for him.
“perfect fuckin’ pussy—mine, all mine, gonna fuck her full of my nut and have you carrying my babies, yeah? ‘s what you want, isn’t it? atta. fuckin’. girl.”
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈.
“whew, would’ya look at that?” toji whistles, barking out a chuckle as he slows his pace, watching your uncontrollably clenching pussy squirt out your juices like a leaking faucet.
the pressure of your squirting is fucking intense, it has your entire body shaking, thighs quaked and the arch that was once on your back rounded. toji can’t help but laugh as tears stream down your damp cheeks, absolutely in love with how greedy your pussy clamped down on his cock.
“daddyyy—fuck!” your nails claw at the damp sheets on the bed, letting your nth orgasm rake throughout your body.
you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the room and you whine loudly at the stinging pleasure. you feel two big hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into that curve.
“nah uh doll,” toji tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. he picks his pace back up, never fully bottoming out, though you wouldn’t even notice with how many inches he packed.
“what’d i tell you?” he reminds you, and you’re too fucked out to answer him as you mumble his name over and over, helplessly taking the stretch of his dick at your gaping cunt.
he slaps your ass harshly again and you cry, fingernails scratching and clawing at the silk material beneath you. your scalp soon stings as he grabs a handful and effortlessly brings you upper body up to meet him.
“answer me when i ask you somethin’ baby,” toji frowns, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, sending chills of nerves down your spine. “basic fuckin’ manners.”
“suh—sorry, ‘m sorry toji!” you apologize feverishly, and moan in satisfaction when his tongue laps up your drool and tears streaking your ruined yet pretty face.
“tsk, should have you do the work yourself,” toji teases you, releasing the deathly grip on your hair, causing your limp body to flop back to the mattress. as if proof to avoid calling his bluff, he releases his hold on you, opting to cross his arms above his head instead.
“n-no! toji, no, please, said i was sorry—‘m so fucking sorry!” you whine and ramble when you feel the lack of contact on your body, and your gaping cunt suddenly emptying.
you slither your hand between your thighs, grabbing at his girthy cock, pumping it a few times before slipping it with ease back into your welcoming warmth. you moan wantonly, clawing at your sheets as you fuck yourself on his dick, pushing yourself back and forth.
“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he comments with a chuckle, spitting a glob of saliva down to your cunt, watching it dissipate into the creamy pearly veil of your essence around the base of his shaft.
he collects your slick with his thumb, before slipping his fingertip into your puckering hole, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion.
“trappin’ me inside—shit, want me to fuck you full of my cum, yeah? leave you swollen and leakin’, dontcha, pretty baby?”
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎.
“‘s too much ken—no more, hah, no more kento!”
you whined and begged, fists clenching as your muscles tensed, back arching off the mattress and toes curling while digging your heel at his shoulder blades. the sound of buzzing filled your hearing, the toy vibrating against your swollen clit ruthlessly while nanami fucked your cunt open with two thick fingers.
“mmh, safe word princess, or else i can’t hear you.” he reminds you, the words ghosting off his lips and sinking into your supple flesh, his lips trailing soft and gentle kisses at your inner thighs.
here he was, giving you an out, and despite claiming enough was enough, you didn’t want it to end just there. with your senses heightened, both your sight and touch restrained, the pleasure emitting from in between your thighs buzzed blissfully and tenfolds through your nervous system.
you released the clench of your hands and opted to scratch at the wood of the headboard you were tied to, projecting your want to touch your boyfriend through the clawing.
“i can keep—hnng—going!” you tell him, legs closing in on the sides of his head. you hear him tut disapprovingly, and you immediately fault your mistake, forcing your legs back open.
“there’s my good girl,” his honeyed voice rings through your ear drums, and it admittedly has you dripping even more on his fingers that curled at your insides. “just need one more from you—can you do that for me?”
you nod your head, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “mmh, yes—yes i can kento!” you can feel your blood circulation cutting off at the areas were you’re bind, the shortage of blood messing with your already weak body.
the toy playing at your bundle of nerves is painful, having overstepped the boundary of comfortableness and stepping into a new territory of foreign, and you had failed to notice when nanami added in a third finger. you were sure with how much you came just on his hands alone, his watch was drenched in your juices.
those big fingers fuck you open, knuckles pressing into your spongy walls and triggering all sorts of pleasurable feelings throughout you, your stomach tightening into a familiar hot feeling, and you know you’re close again.
“kento, baby i—‘m gonna—fuckkk!” you want to card your fingers through his soft hair, tug and pull and release your pleasure onto his scalp.
“let go for me sweetheart, wanna taste your sweet essence,” nanami swaps the toy for his tongue and flicks at your clit. you feel the dam in your gut release at the sudden warmth exhibiting, and you spray him in pathetic squirts of your juices.
your body trembles as it contracts and gives nanami everything you have left to offer. you squeeze his head in your thighs, moaning wildly as his pace with his fingers never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.
he swaps his tongue out for the toy again, and you wail out a broken cry, body at its limit, still stuck between coming down from your orgasm and greedily wanting another one.
he strokes your slit, collecting all your essence as he licks his lips eagerly.
“good job princess. taste so heavenly, i’ve never had anything like it before. i’ve gotta have another sip, will you let me have another taste, my love?”
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.
“c’mon, focus sweetheart. do that f’me, yeah?”
you nod your head, mouth too full of dick as you opt to bob up and down. your jaw aches, feeling as though it’s being ripped apart. you force your aching wrist to work up and down geto’s cock, stimulating what you fail to get down your throat.
it would’ve been a simple task for you to focus on, had suguru not been feasting on your pussy like a starved man. he spreads your folds open, tonguing at your insides as if he dug for gold, grabbing both your cheeks in his big hands and spreading you open. he never half assed anything, much less pussy eating.
his skin was soaked in your squirt, orgasms came rolling in and out of you as did the occasional pumps of two fingers into your cunt while he ate you out. you would moan in pleasurable pain, the sounds vibrating on his shaft, which would induce him to moan into you, causing you to moan back on him, the cycle this repeating.
you were greedy—you could complain about how it was too much all you wanted, at the end of the day, you would pause on his cock to grind your hips back and forth on his face, the slip from your slick on his cheeks and nose making the grinding easier.
his nose would bump into your clit and you’d shiver from head to toe, the oversensitivity catching up to you. the free hand at your ass cheek would graze at your puckering hole but never dared to slip inside. all these mixes of stimulations had your eyes crossing, mouth gaping wide which made fucking your throat much easier for geto.
“sweetest cunt i’ve ever had,” he groans in between your thighs, bringing his hand to spank at your wet folds, and your arch your back at the stinging pleasure, your toes curling as your body shook.
the slap at your pussy made flicks of your juices land on his face, and so he landed a few more blows while simultaneously jerking his hips up into your mouth, forcing you down on his cock.
it was all too much— it hurt so good, the strikes at your cunt, his tongue lapping your liquids as he scissored your insides for additional pleasure. how was he expecting you to get him to finish for a second time when he was driving you to the brink of yet again another countless orgasm?
“wanna soak in your juices mama,” he speaks, mouth full of cunt, but you still grasp the message. you subconsciously push your hips back into his face, wanting to abide to his request.
“‘m so fuckin thirsty—don’t you dare be selfish with me. cum in my mouth. be the good girl i know you are and share yourself with me—need it, pretty girl.”
𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎.
“y’feel so good, fuck—sucking me in, oh shit baby, never wanna stop fucking you! please, need your pussy always!”
he’d finally gotten a feel of sex for the first time, and he was already hooked. his locks matted to his forehead from sweat trickling down his nose and plopping down onto you.
“wait—slow d-down cho’—hngg!” you moan, nails clawing at his back, scraping and marking the pale skin. you felt your body recoil entirely with each sharp thrust he pounded into your worn out pussy, dragging each and every inch of his length in and out.
your knees were bent at your ears, feet dangling by his head as his hips slammed into the back of your thighs, marking the skin red from the brash contact. the springs from your bed resonated loudly in the room, as did the creaking of your headboard, but nothing topped choso’s loud whimpers.
he’s too lost in his own pleasure, he starts to mistaken to stinging and achy feeling in his gut and loins for a sign to keep going, “never wanna stop—shittt, need to fuck this pretty pussy every. fucking. day.”
you’ve given up on convincing him otherwise, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his hips digging into yours, stretching your pussy open to fit him inside. you creamed around his dick, your essence resting at the hairs on his pubic area, giving him easy access to slide in and out of you.
his arms wrapped around you tightly, refusing to let you out of his grip, one arm beneath your back and holding you from there and the other wrapping around your shoulders. you were stuck in his embrace, bodies moulding into one as you were split open by a fucked out first timer.
in his excitement, he slips out and wastes no time to grab his base and shove it back into a warm tightness, failing to acknowledge your sudden gasp. his mind is clouded with sex, and if he didn’t know better, you were suddenly much fucking tighter, and shit that drove him on edge.
your arms tighten behind his back as you adapt to the sudden intrusion from an area you hadn’t yet explored. “cho—baby wait—mmhm, fuck, that’s my—!”
“‘m gonna cum—fuck y/n, tell me you’re close too. shit, need to fill you up with my cum, please!” the man seals his lips onto yours, panting and begging for this next orgasm, shifting all of his body weight into the hole that keeps greedily latching onto him.
your eyes water as they stream tears down your cheeks. it’s a new and painful sensation, but simultaneously a pleasurable one, and your body granted you the opportunity of yet again another orgasm from the different stimulation. “hah—gonna cum!—make me cum, choso!”
you spray yourself all over, your pussy clenching around absolutely nothing as your ass gets rammed into and fucked like a pro. choso groans and whines against your lips, brows furrowed at the centre of his forehead as he empties himself into your warmth.
“fuck yes—take it all baby, ‘s all yours—need you to milk me and take it all in—your pussy’s the best, i swear to everythin’, shit!”
i am SO tired.
#stargirl★rena.#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushigro x reader#toji x reader#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#choso x reader
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all work & no play
lucifer morningstar/clingy in heat f!reader
warnings: 18+ nsfw content, breeding kink, daddy kink
a/n: i’m not kidding the brain rot is real with this man…
(pic creds: @/AncestralSinner on twt!!)
Lucifer was off on a business meeting with the angels which left you all alone bored and lonesome.
Of course you were missing him…
and of course it was your time of season.
You went back and forth one whether or not you should call him, checking the time almost every second until finally his meeting would be over in the next 5 minutes.
It wouldn’t hurt to call before it ended right?
Hitting his caller id number without a second thought and clicking facetime waiting patiently as you let it ring.
After the third or fourth ring you hear his sweet voice come through, “Hi my pretty girl…what’ve you been up to!”
Your thighs instantly coming together as you nibbled at your bottom lip at how just by seeing him your body temperature skyrocketed.
“I’ve been missing you daddy~” you pout at the screen using a baby voice as you watch his attention avert from you for a moment making your heart practically ache.
“Aww I miss you too honey…i’ll be home in a little bit okay!” his attention still elsewhere but on you. Who could possibly be having all his attention right now besides his baby?
You huff a little at this knowing you were in heat and he wasn’t here to help you.
Then a lightbulb goes off above your head as you held the phone out in front of you, starting to tease yourself a little. Rubbing your hand over your tits, grabbing and squeezing at them and then letting a hand slip under skirt to tease your pussy through your panties letting out a soft whimper causing Lucifer to put his attention back onto you in bewilderment.
Seeing you all desperate and needy that you had to call him on the phone finally put the thought in his mind that you were in heat. His eyes darkening instantly and his forked tongue darting out to lick his lips as he felt like he was practically drooling at the sight of you.
“Oh my sweet baby is in heat huh?” he coos softly as he started making his way out of the building hastily and back onto the streets of Hell.
You nod with still a pout playing at your lips as you start rubbing small circles against your clothed clit.
“Let me see~” his voice dropping an octave loosing it’s usual bubbly like nature.
Shifting the phone down to your skirt you move your panties to the side showing your already soaking entrance. Delicate fingers spreading yourself open to show off your sweet little hole to him that was aching to be filled.
“Fuuuuuck baby~” Lucifer moans on the other side of the phone not caring what sinner saw their overlord in such a primal and vulnerable state with his little girl begging him to breed her on the phone.
His hard-on straining so painful against his pants, which a couple whores on the street gave a whistle to and made him offers to come back with them, but he was so infatuated with you in heat right now he could careless, with your guys shared home being only two more blocks away.
“Just be a good girl and wait for daddy okay? I’ll be right there~” nodding obediently as Lucifer unexpectedly hangs up the phone making you huff once more.
You weren’t sure what to do with yourself for those few minutes, but before you could think about it there was a sound of keys jiggling at the door making you perk up within an instant.
The door swung open revealing Lucifer with his chest rising and falling rather quickly as his wings had been flared out now slowly going away in a ‘poof’ Seeming as though he flew here in a hurry just to please you.
“Oh come to daddy~” he purred with his arms outstretched and a hungry look dancing in his eye.
You didn’t hesitate as you walked over to him swaying your hips in a saucy manner which he quite liked as his eyes bounced with each movement. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave him a sweet kiss.
Lucifer hummed against your lips pleased as his hands started to slowly glide from down your waist to grab up under your thighs, hoisting you up to carry you back over to the sofa you were sitting on earlier.
Sitting himself down with you nestled in his lap facing him. His hands feeling how warm your skin was against his fingertips as just his touch was making you squirm against him, innocent lap sitting turned into you desperately grinding against him just to get off some how.
“W-woah slow down princess” he massages your hips pulling away from the kiss as he was starting to get more hot himself.
His hard-on from before still very much erect as it was nestled between your thighs igniting the heat deep in your core. You feel a little embarrassed and shy now that he was in front of you, but you just couldn’t stop humping him.
“I-I can’t” you sniffle, needing to feel relief so badly it hurts.
“Oh my sweet girl, it’s okay, shh.” he tries to calm you down as he gives a soft kiss to your forehead and squeezes your hips a little.
"You want daddy to make you feel nice and full. Is that right?" feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks as you nod, but you still can't control the way your hips are moving.
"Maybe claim you completely…Would you like that?"
Hearing his warm words in your ear was driving you up the wall, kneading your hands against his shoulders as a more pleading look decorated your features.
“Tell daddy baby~..” kissing your ear gently then peppering wet kisses down your neck.
Your mind so full of your arousal like this you had a hard time with forming your words.
“I w-want yo-ou~” you muster out softly as you then got up from your spot on his lap turning yourself around to present yourself to him.
Lucifer is nearly at a loss for words, too, seeing your cute little behind and the obvious wet patch on your panties where your skirt had been hiked up.
"Y-you want me in there?”
You nod gingerly as he then rubs a thumb over the wet patch lightly grazing your clit against your panties making you whine. He cruses under his breath as he doesn’t hesitate pulling you back down against his lap after making that noise showing how eager he was getting himself.
"You wanna come sit on my cock?" he offers, tugging your panties aside with a moan, seeing how your dripping down your thighs for him.
"Right here, angel" he pulls his angry erection out from his nice dress pants, lining himself up and stretching you open.
You feel the spread of his tip that could satisfy you alone with the width and thickness, but he couldn’t hold back anymore as he pulled you down onto him with a groan, "S-sweetheart…you’re soo tight~”
You whimper as that ache in your tummy was finally being satisfied with ease and loving. Looking back to see Lucifer completely entranced with you going up and down his length with his guide, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth.
"Fuck that's it, baby- you’re doing such a good job for daddy," he coos then pulling your body closer, pressing kisses to the back of your neck in his warm embrace.
He fucks away your embarrassment of being in such incredible need, with that fiery heat inside you. It all starts melting away, dripping down his cock until you feel him start to pulse and throb inside you.
"I-I’m s-so m fucking close-"
"P-please cum daddy" You mewl, hearing him growl behind you as you egged him on making him grab your hips a little firmer as he brought you down on him harder. Turning back at him once more to see that gorgeous, pleasured look on his face as he gets his first orgasm.
Breathing heavily now, you go to stand up to let him rest, but his hands grab onto your waist once more and he keeps you seated on his length.
"You wanna go again?"
He feels you clenching on him already with that surprised look on your face.
"Haha, why should we stop there?..I don’t got any meetings tommorrow- so i can give you allllll the attention you want”
He knows that when his sweet girl is in heat that she needs all the attention she can get…Not only with lots of love, but a nice long dick that’ll keep her filled with it’s cum.
He just wanted to make you happy.
Hearing this almost had you to the point of crying tears a pure joy that it was almost overwhelming that he wanted to take care of you like this.
So you let him do just that all night long, till he had you resting against his bare chest completely spent letting out soft sighs as you slept. He couldn’t help but smile down at his pretty girl cuddled up against him, pulling a blanket over the two of you before whispering, “i love you”, giving you a soft kiss amongst your head and then settling him self down for a much needed rest.
#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings#☆⋆｡𖦹 lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin imagine#hazbin#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer smut#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar smut
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green with envy.
pairing: theodore nott x reader.
request: omg i need more of theo x reader with a hint of flirty draco
song inspiration: jealous by nick jonas.
author's note: ask and you shall receive. here's draco scheming to make theo jealous, which we all know won't end well. happy new year's my loves. we're staring 2024 off with a bang 😉
“Merlin, they can’t possibly be serious.” Draco muttered in disbelief. “Those two truly aren’t fooling anyone.”
Blaise glanced up from his book, searching for the cause of Malfoy’s offense. The Three Broomsticks was packed, but it wasn’t hard to spot the reason for his friend’s griping. Tucked into a secluded corner of the tavern, you and Theo gravitated towards each other like magnets, leaning into one another, foreheads pressed together, talking and laughing like you were the only people in the world.
It had been this way ever since Blaise could remember.
As always, Theo wore that stupid love-struck expression on his face as he listened to you talk, chuckling softly as you waved your arms around animatedly. You, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the pining and yearning coming from Nott’s end. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that Theo was clearly in love with you, yet you remained blind to his affections.
“They’ve made it very clear that they’re just friends,” Blaise replied, repeating the same tired words that you and Theodore declared over and over again over the course of your friendship.
“And you believe them?”
“Of course not.” Blaise affirmed as he flipped through the pages of his book once more. “But who am I to burst their blissful bubble of ignorance?”
“They’re clearly in denial,” Draco remarked, watching intently as you picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of Theo’s quidditch sweater. “It’s been seven years of this pathetic teetering between will they or won’t they territory. I can’t stomach another day of it, Blaise. Someone needs to do something.”
“Whatever half-arsed plan you’ve cooked up in that ferret brain of yours, I want no part in it.”
Draco tapped his fingers against the wooden table, a familiar smirk curving at his lips. Blaise sighed in exasperation. He knew that look. He hated that look. It usually meant that Malfoy was hatching a scheme that spelled nothing but trouble for Blaise.
“I’m serious, Draco.” Blaise said in a stern voice.
“So am I,” the blonde replied. “Those two need a push and I’m more than willing to provide it for them.”
“I already know that I’m going to regret asking, but what exactly are you planning?”
Draco smirked. Blaise swore to Salazar that there was an evil gleam in his friend’s eyes as he turned over to face him. “I’m going to flirt with Y/N.”
“Are you mental?” Blaise exclaimed. “Nott will send you to an early grave. Did you see what he did to Pucey for trying to chat Y/N up? Poor bastard had to eat his meals through a straw for weeks.”
“Then I guess it’s your job to prevent that from happening, Zabini.”
There were a million protests on Blaise’s lips. Everyone knew that Theo was overprotective of his best friend. It was an unspoken rule that you were off-limits and Blaise had seen first hand the consequences that befell anyone that dared to hit on you. It usually ended with someone in the infirmary and that someone was never Theo.
Draco was well aware of this fact as well, but he seemed to have a death wish. Before Blaise could stop him, Malfoy scooped two glasses of butterbeer from the counter and made his way over to you just as Theo excused himself for a smoke. You looked up just as Draco slipped into the booth, sliding beside you to take up the vacant spot your best friend left.
“Fancy seeing you here, Y/N.”
“Hi, Dray.” You greeted the blonde with a smile. “I didn’t know you were here, too.”
“How could you?” He drawled playfully. “Theodore seems content keeping you all to himself.”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “You could’ve easily just come over to join us.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, darling.” Draco set a mug of ice cold butterbeer down in front of you. “And I brought your favorite.”
“How sweet of you.” You beamed, totally unaware of his schemes as you clinked your glass against his. “Cheers, Draco.”
“Cheers, Y/N.”
The sweetness of the butterbeer lingered on your tongue and the foam rested on your upper lip as you savored the taste. Your tongue peeked out, trying to lick the remnants away. Silver eyes flashed mischievously as he clocked the action, a smirk curling against his lips.
“Here, let me.” Draco brushed his thumb over your upper lip, wiping away the foam with ease. His fingers were soft and featherlight and nothing like the calloused feel of Theo’s hands.
Your best friend had a bad habit of burning his fingertips from the countless blunts and cigarettes he smoked. Despite the fact that you offered to heal them with magic, Theo always refused. He said it made him more manly. Though you rolled your eyes at him, you found that you didn’t really mind his scars and calluses. It only made him that much more endearing. Why you were thinking of Theo while another man was touching you, you had no idea. Or perhaps you did and you were just in deep, deep denial about it.
“Have I lost you, love?”
With a blink, you found yourself staring back at Malfoy. “Sorry, Draco. What were you saying?”
“I asked if you were using a new shampoo,” said your friend. He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers, using the ends to tickle your cheek. “Your hair smells divine.”
You paused, narrowing your eyes at Draco. “What are you doing, Dray?”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re up to something.”
That much was obvious to you. Years of friendship told you just as much. Draco was currently plotting something. Before you could question him further, a shadow loomed over the both of you. When Theo had left for his smoke break, he was carefree and grinning, but now tension colored your best friend’s features. As he glared down at Draco, Theo clenched his jaw and balled his fists at his side.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Malfoy.”
“Teddy, he was just helping me with—“
“Draco doesn’t need to help you with anything.” Theo’s eyes flashed with anger, the blues and greens of his irises turning stormy as his gaze dropped to the lock of hair tangled through Draco’s fingers. “What he needs is to walk away before I break his fucking jaw.”
Draco raised his palms up. “I don’t want any trouble, Nott.”
Despite his statement, you sensed that trouble was exactly what Draco was aiming for. Instead of walking away like he should’ve, Malfoy leaned over and kissed your cheek in parting, which only further incensed Theo. If you hadn’t grabbed hold of the end of his coat, Theo would’ve hurled himself at Draco and punched the cocky smirk off of your friend’s face.
You tugged at Theo and placed yourself between him and Draco, watching as the blonde returned to the table Blaise was currently sitting at. For good measure, he winked at the two of you as though Theo wasn’t already pissed enough as it was.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Theo’s gaze flickered back to you, his eyes darkening as they met yours.
“Why the fuck are you letting him touch you like that?”
The bite in his voice puzzled you. Theo never snapped at you, so you weren’t quite sure how to react. He almost sounded…jealous. Not that Theo had any reason to be. Right?
“What are you on about? Draco was literally just wiping the foam off of my mouth. It’s not a big deal.”
Downplaying the interaction seemed to rile Theo up even further. “Yes it fucking is,” he gritted out. “He’s flirting with you, Y/N. How can you not see that?”
The accusation of Draco Malfoy flirting with you was entirely laughable. Though you were accustomed to Theo’s overzealous tendencies, you usually didn’t mind his overprotectiveness since it deterred creepy guys from making advances towards you. But this was Draco, for Godric’s sake. You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. There was no way in hell he was actually trying to make a move on you.
“You’re being ridiculous, Teddy. Malfoy was not flirting with me.”
“Of course he was! Did you not see the way he looked at you? The bloody git was all over you, playing with your hair, touching your lips. I should his bash his fucking head in for even glancing in your direction.“
The rest of Theo’s rant was incoherent, a mixture between English and Italian curses that drew the attention of those around you. With a grimace, you tugged Theo towards the back of the Three Broomsticks. He continued swearing as you led him away, dead eyes filled with fury as you ushered him into the bathroom.
There was a murderous expression on his face as he spewed threats and curses. You locked the door behind you, sighing as you surveyed the angry boy before you. Knowing Theo, his constant ranting would only fuel the fire of his anger. You needed to calm him down before he made good on his promise to pummel Draco into the ground.
Unfortunately, Theo had already worked himself up to a fit. A frown was evident on his face, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists, the veins on his forearms protruding as violence threatened to spill over. You said his name a few times, but he didn’t seem to hear you. He was too angry to take notice.
While dealing with an angry Theo was by no means a new occurrence for you, it seemed harder to pull him out of it this time. You had never seen him this furious. A small part of you was mad at his overreaction, but another part of you was oddly flattered that he cared so much.
Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but you relished in the fact that such a small action could elicit such a response from him. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve surmised that Theo was acting out of jealousy. His possessive behavior had always given you a strange sort of thrill. It made you feel wanted, it made you feel desired, and that in itself was more dangerous than any drug.
“Theodore.”
Theo paced back and forth, contemplating acts of violence against one of his oldest and closest friends.
“Theo.”
He wondered how much trouble he’d get into for beating Draco into a bloody pulp. Would they suspend him? Theo reckoned it would be worth it.
“Teddy.”
The sight of Draco brushing foam off of your lips flashed through his mind again, playing on a torturous loop. Malfoy didn’t get to touch you like that. No one got to touch you like that. At least not without Theo breaking every bone in their hand.
“Oh for Salazar’s fucking sake.”
You grabbed the front of Theo’s sweater and dragged him down to your level. There was absolutely no thought process behind your actions besides stopping his rant. With your lips pressed firmly against his, you accomplished just that. Theo froze for a second, his eyes fluttering close as you kissed him. The tension left his body, his anger melting away to give room for a different sort of heat to spread through him.
The minute his body language changed, you pulled away. Theo looked down at you, his dead eyes burning with searing passion. You felt his gaze piercing right through you. There was danger lurking within him. Like he was the predator and you were the prey. You’ve never seen him look like that before. Theo looked…feral. Theo looked hungry.
“I’m sorry, Teddy. I was just trying to calm you down—”
You reeled back as Theo cupped your face in his hands and smashed your lips together once more. This time, there was no surprise in the kiss. There was just fervent passion, arduous desire, and mutual destruction between you. Theo didn’t kiss you like he wanted you. He kissed you like he needed you.
As he pinned you against the wall, Theo gripped your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kisses grew sloppy and desperate, the two of you scrabbling for more. You groaned as his erection brushed against your thigh, leaving him the perfect opening to slide his tongue past the seam of your lips. You were vaguely aware of banging into the pictures on the walls, the sound of them clattering to the ground registering somewhere in the back of your mind.
The two of you were like a tornado, knocking decor and toiletries around as you continued to sloppily make out. You were sure that you were making enough noise to alert the whole tavern. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Theo bit down on your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he set you down on the counter. One hand gripped your throat while the other slipped underneath your skirt.
Theo dragged you closer by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he grinded his hardness against your throbbing core.
“Malfoy couldn’t touch you like this, bella.” The low rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. His hold on you was possessive and utterly fucking sexy. Heat rushed between your thighs as his fingers tightened around your throat. “Only I can touch you like this. Do you understand, dolcezza?”
“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “It’s you, Teddy. Only you.”
Pleased with your response, Theo smirked as he ripped off your tights. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he rubbed his hand against your clothed sex. He palmed you through your panties, swearing when he felt how wet you were for him.
“You’re fucking mine,” he growled against your ear while he slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. Slender fingers curled inside of you, eliciting a filthy moan that echoed through the walls. “This is all for me.”
Watercolour eyes seized the breath from your lungs. The declaration hung in the air with finality. There was no room for question or doubt. Theo was merely stating the truth.
You were his. You always have been.
Theo withdrew his hand, fingers dripping with your arousal. He refused to break eye contact as he stuck them into his mouth, licking each digit clean.
You whimpered, pulling him in by his belt loop. He moaned as you impatiently tugged his jeans down, palming him through his boxers. He felt big. Bigger than you’ve ever had before.
But you wanted it. You wanted him.
“I need you, Theo. Please.”
“I’m yours, Y/N.” Theo panted into your mouth as you released his cock from the constraints of his boxers. “Always.”
You swallowed thickly as you looked down at his impressive size. His cock was hard and throbbing in your hands, precum leaking from the tip. Theo was massive. You had no idea how he was going to fit. Still, the challenge thrilled you.
Spreading your legs open, you bit your lip as Theo positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. He kissed your lips sweetly before pulling back and nuzzling his nose against yours.
“Deep breaths, baby.” You nodded, inhaling and exhaling as he pushed the tip in. “You’re so tight. Gonna let me stretch you wide open, bella?”
Tears pricked at your eyes as he breached your walls, stretching you just between the line of pain and pleasure. “You’re so big, Theo. I don't—I don't know if it’s going to fit.”
“We’ll make it fit, Y/N,” he promised, pushing further in and groaning as your walls hugged tightly around him. “Just like that. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”
Once Theo was fully sheathed inside of you, his movements stilled. He caressed your cheek and pecked your lips. “Can I move, baby?”
“Yes,” you exhaled.
“Good girl.”
You fluttered at his words and Theo cursed as your walls gripped him like a vice. “Fuck, pretty pussy’s squeezing me so tight. You drive me fucking insane, you know that? I get so jealous of anyone who even looks at you.”
“I like when you get jealous,” you admitted, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.”
Theo flipped you over so that you were facing the mirror. As you gripped the marble countertop, he thrusted sharply inside of you and watched as your face contorted into pleasure. Whispering praises into your ear, Theo picked up the pace. He intertwined your fingers together and placed each palm against the mirror.
“Open your eyes, bella. I want you to watch while I ruin you.”
Your eyes snapped to your reflection, taking in your flushed cheeks and mussed hair. Behind you, Theo fucked into you with a punishing pace. He groaned as he watched himself slide in and out of you, relishing at the perfect fit. It was like you were made for him. As your moans grew louder, Theo stuffed his fingers down your throat and gagged you.
“God, fuck.” Theo hissed, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Harder, baby. You can take it. Let me fuck out my frustrations.”
“You. Belong. To. Me.”
Theo punctuated every word with a thrust, hitting the sweet spot within your walls with each rut.
“I’m yours, Teddy.” You said breathlessly. “All yours.”
He smiled, placing a tender kiss against your neck as his fingers slipped between your legs. Theo rubbed at your clit, urging you closer and closer to your orgasm.
“Are you close, principessa? I can feel you squeezing me, milking me dry. Take it all, dolcezza. You’re mine, but I’m yours too.”
“My hands are yours.” Theo squeezed your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples.
“My lips are yours.” He angled your chin towards him, claiming your mouth with open mouthed kisses.
“My cock is yours.” He drove deeper inside of you, making you arch as you cried out his name.
Theo swallowed your moans before capturing your lips with his. “My heart is yours, too.”
“It’s all yours, Y/N.”
Your heart squeezed at his declaration. Nothing had ever sounded more beautiful than Theo pledging every part of himself to you.
“Oh god. Fuck, Theo. Please. I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum for me, bella.”
Stars dotted your vision as the orgasm rocked through your body. Theo kissed your neck, marking his territory, while you squeezed around him. The heat of his touch seared your skin as he held you. If it weren’t for his strong arms wrapped around you, you would’ve collapsed.
“So fucking perfect,” Theo said between pants. “My beautiful girl.”
Your name tumbled off of Theo’s lips as he came. It was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. Coming from the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen.
The two of you slid down to the floor. Theo wrapped an arm around you, cheeks red and hair disheveled. His pretty eyes fluttered open as he traced over the hickies and bruises he’d left on your body, admiring each mark gently. With his brows scrunched with concern, he brushed a thumb over the bite mark on your shoulder.
“Was I too rough?” Theo whispered, kissing over the spot. “Did I hurt you, Y/N?”
You smiled at his gentleness, smoothing at the worry lines creasing his forehead. “No, it was perfect. God, you're fucking hot when you're jealous.”
Theo chuckled, kissing the inside of your wrist. The playfulness in his expression faltered as concern and hesitation bled through. “Did you—I mean, fuck, did you enjoy it? I didn’t—you still want to be my friend, right?”
“No.”
Theo felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He’d fucked it up. The one good thing in his life and he’d fucked it up. You brushed your fingers over his cheekbones, tilting his chin so that you were face to face.
“I want to be so much more than just your friend, Teddy.” The sigh of relief that he released made you grin. You leaned in, giving him a soft peck on the lips. “My heart is yours, too. It’s always been yours.”
The weight of his smile made your heart ache. “Now that you know how I feel, there’s no need to be jealous anymore.”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to be even more insufferable now. I need everyone to know that you’re mine.”
“They already know, Teddy. We were the only ones living in denial.”
“We made it pretty damn obvious, didn’t we?”
“You threatened every guy who dared to even look at me.”
“Please,” Theo started, a smile tugging at his lips. “I saw the dirty looks you gave to the girls who tried to flirt with me.”
You chuckled. “Okay, so maybe we’re both a little…”
“Possessive? Obsessed? Head over heels insane for each other?”
“All of the above.” You declared, tugging at his hand. “Now come on, Teddy. Before someone figures out what we were really doing in here.”
“I think they know, love.” Theo teased. “You were pretty loud.”
“Like you weren’t loud yourself, Nott.”
You rolled your eyes fondly as he helped you up. Theo straightened your skirt and smoothed your hair down, kissing your temple. He reached for the doorknob with one hand and linked his fingers with yours with the other.
Fortunately, there weren’t too many people waiting for the loo. You would’ve been embarrassed to walk out together hand in hand, but Theo made sure that every set of prying eyes quickly found something else to look at. With a cheeky grin, he lifted your knuckles to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon your skin.
As you walked out into the main hall, a wolf-whistle rang out from one of the tables. Draco raised a toast in your direction while Blaise shook his head.
“Can’t believe that half-arsed plan of yours actually worked,” Zabini said.
Theo furrowed his brows. “What plan?”
“The one where Malfoy flirts with Y/N in an attempt to make you jealous.”
“I knew you were up to something,” you said with narrowed eyes. “What an idiotic plan.”
“Is it idiotic if it worked?”
Theo shook his head in disbelief. “You’re mental, Malfoy. I truly considered tearing you to pieces.”
“You’re welcome,” Draco said with a smirk. “Clearly that jealousy was put to good use.”
The blonde winked at you, making Theo’s fingers tighten around yours. “Oh, Teddy’s going to kill you. This time, I have no plans of stopping him.”
Draco’s silver eyes widened as you released Theo. “Zabini? A little help here?”
“I’d start running if I were you, Malfoy.”
Without hesitation, Draco bolted out the door. You snickered as the blonde disappeared down the snowy street, his platinum blonde head bobbing through the crowd. To his credit, Theo gave him a proper head start.
“I’ll be right back, dolcezza.”
“Don’t be gone too long, Teddy.” Theo smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. “And try not to hurt Draco too badly, yeah?”
Despite his pout, Theo nodded as you tugged him down for a proper kiss. He smiled against your lips before peppering kisses on your nose and cheeks.
“Fine, but only because you asked nicely, principessa.”
You smiled, watching as Theo chased after Draco. Beside you, Blaise grinned.
“It’s about damn time.”
With a flush, you rolled your eyes at your friend. “Oh shut it, Zabini.”
TAGLIST
@annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar@moonflowersandsparkles
#jealous theo makes me want to chomp on dry wall <3#theo nott#theodore nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott smut#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#theo nott imagine#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott smut#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n
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Jjk guys and whats gets them going
cw: intercourse (p in v), fingering, brief mention of bondage, grinding, boners, head (male and female receiving and giving), sex in public spaces.
a/n: can you tell who were my favs in this?? (Toge has me on my knees and Geto has me in a chokehold 🙁). All characters are aged up; 18+.
Itadori Yuuji - Ass
Itadori Yuuji, who just simply, loves a nice ass. He likes to have a nice hold on yours at all times– ofcourse, he won't, he's not a creep who cops a feel out of nowhere, but trust me when I say in every situation, there's atleast one part of his brain thinking about your butt. It's an instinct. Beside, he's your boyfriend, you probably think about... something about him in a sexual matter all the time. Haha. He loves ass.
You cupped his jaw softly as he pushed you on the bed, hands on your thighs so you could find your place on his lap, hands now on the plush of your thighs.. roaming north. You couldn't help but smile, as he paid no mind to his hands.
"What is it?"
As he said this, they were crawling up your skirt, and he was sporting a face so innocent you'd be oblivious to what he was doing if you weren't the one feeling it, you couldn't help but laugh– did he even know?
His hands were still lifting your skirt up, stopping at your butt, palming it as he tilted his head at you, only making you laugh.
"You have– no shame–!"
He smiled, pressing his lips to your collarbone, peppering feather light kisses as he rejoiced in the sound of your laughter, even though he wasn't sure if you were laughing at him or not, either way, he was just happy to be here.
"What's there to be ashamed of– Shit."
You finally stopped laughing, due the the multiple hickeys left by Yuuji's sly lips, and as you squirmed, he pressed you further into his lap, feeling the reason he cursed out of nowhere.
"Maybe that."
"Then... do something about it."
He cursed alot more that night.
Fushiguro Megumi - Voice
Fushiguro Megumi who can't get over the things your voice does to him. Always hushed but loud enough to be understood clearly, a sultry undertone only he can decode– he's the only one thinking about you in that way anyways. Megumi who loves but equally hates how one sentence a tone too suggestive from you has his pants suddenly feeling too tight– He can't get enough. It doesn't even have to be dirty!– Just say anything that can be taken the wrong way and if you take the time to look down, the effect you have on him will be pretty obvious.
Megumi accepted you in his arms, gently acting like a brace for your charged run at him, you haven't seen him in too long to even try and hold back, you knew he could handle it.
His arms helped you hug him more than he was hugging you, but the feeling of his hand on your back, pushing you closer to him was enough to let a wide smile and a fit of content sighs slip past your lips. Sounds that made Megumi's cheeks flush ever so slightly.
"I've missed you so much.." You sighed softly against the space between his neck and ear, leaving a chaste kiss right there. "Megumi."
"Don't act so surprised now.. You knew what you were doing." He muttered, almost incomprehensibly as he fumbled to unbutton your shirt, the bulge of his boxers and the haze of his eyes only serving to soak your underwear even more.
"Not my fault you can't help yourself.." He slid your blouse off of you so quick that you barely remember having it on, his warm, slim hands on your waist, then your thighs, eyes roaming on you, and your lips.
"You're right. I can't help myself, but you can." His pretty eyelashes fluttered down at you, leaning closer so he could press your back firmly to the bed, pushing his bulge against you, lips falling to your neck, a bit rough with his biting– but, if it gets the job done..
He fucked you pretty good that night.
Inumaki Toge - Mouth
Inumaki Toge who just loves your mouth. Your lips, the tint, colour, texture– the way it moves. It's a bit of a dirty secret for him, eyes always trailing to your lips whenever he talks to you, not even because he wants to kiss you, just because it's just so natural for him. Not that he doesn't want to kiss you, but sometimes it's just more fun to stick his fingers in your mouth and watch you suck them. it's a dirty secret for a reason.
Toge loves your mouth. In a sexual way and.. okay it's all in a sexual way– he just loves your mouth. He likes spoon feeding you food and watch you swallow whatever was on it, or maybe just randomly curl his fingers in your mouth, always sporting a dirty smirk during and after.
It always turns something in him on, but as much as he loves the team your mouth and his active imagination make, nothing beats your mouth wrapped around his cock, like right now.
"Mmn– Ah–" He covered his mouth, not just to save the ears of anyone near, but one slip up and he might put you in a coma, for literally fucking your brains out.
You looked up at him as you sucked him off against his bedroom door, eyes fluttering up to meet his which only drove him even more crazy, legs almost giving in as his eyes stayed on you, hips jolting forward, deeper.
Your head bobbed at a steady rythym, hand pumping what you couldn't reach, dick wet with your spit, small veins sprawled around, veins that you felt all so well, deep in your throat.
His whines and groans and grunts replaced all the curses he wanted to yell but couldn't– biting his lip– how much more could he take? He was so... so close.
But as soon as you made the decision to suck on his tip? Oh, he came undone so quick, thick strings of cum spilling in your mouth, on your lips, some on your nose and dripping down your chin.
"You cummed more than usual, did I do a good job?" You asked, tilting your head with a small smirk.
You wiped the cum around your mouth with your thumb and licked it off, analyzing the taste as– Toge's dick brushed your lip, his tip staring at you, hard again.
"Already?" It was less of a question, more a genuine plee of worry and shock, as you looked up to a blushing Toge, shrugging as he took your chin, and pressed himself in your mouth once again.
He got overstimulated, the most horrible best head of his life.
Okkotsu Yuuta - Hands
Okkotsu Yuuta who loves your hands. Whether you're tending to his injuries, or just brushing crumbs off his face, your fingers on him always results in a furious blush. His mind spirals, feeling so dizzy the way his blood rushes to his dick, it makes him feel horrible each time you innocently tend to him, but he isn't feeling so bad when he jerks off, imagining your hands instead of his. Except this time.. he didn't have to imagine.
Oh he felt so wrong– but he didn't want you to stop, he really didn't want you to stop.
It all started with the cinema staff, selling you tickets to one of their least viewed movies– ofcourse they had their doubts, a relatively young couple going to watch an unpopular movie, they knew the gist. But back then you guys really were just going to see the movie– Yuuta has been rambling about it all week, if anyone, his intentions were pure.
But he couldn't say the same now, his jeans unziped, boxers pulled down, your hand pumping his dick as he suppressed his moans, hiding his red face.
There was barely any other people, and you both were in the far back, nobody would see you guys; was your attempt at convincing Yuuta to let you give him a handjob, it didn't take much.
He was slowly getting louder, your thumb on his slit, rubbing his pretty, pink and sensitive tip, precum still dripping down his length to your hand.
"Shh, Yuuta, you need to quiet down." You leaned into him, whispering those words in his ear as he grunted, choosing to take matters in your own hands as you covered his mouth, feeling his moan on your palm.
"Mmn.. Come on Yuuta, you want to cum don't you? Then be quiet, cum all you want but stay quiet for me, 'kay?"
You pumped him faster, finally feeling him jolt as you rushed to angle his dick, away from himself, staining the back of the seat infront of him.
"M–Ah.." His muffled sounds coaxed you to remove your hand from his mouth. "Ah.. How... are we gonna clean that up?"
"Said the janitor."
You guys cleaned it up, Yuuta felt too guilty.
Gojo Satoru - Clothing
Gojo Satoru who just loves anything you wear. That's it. He's a simple guy, wear a skimpy dress and oh no, it's suddenly on the floor. Though he loves the eye candy, he isn't very patient in bed... You know that lingerie set you bought? Yeah, it's in a the pile of ripped clothing, full of many pervious lingerie sets... There really isn't any limit to his horniness, Just exist and this man is all over you.
Partys were very hectic. Drinking, games, weed, people making out in random corners in houses of... People he equally doesn't know of. But what he does know, is having you grind up on him while wearing a dress that leaves so little to the imagination, makes him feel things that can't be describes as less than insanely horny. He intends to do something about it.
"Woah.. No way you're already that wet– You want me that bad?" He laughed, bending you over the kitchen table. Nobody was there, and if someone did come, Satoru genuinely woud not care, too focused on fucking you to give any more fucks.
Your underwear was soaked, Satoru slipping them down your legs, smiling as one rub of your clit had you flinching, quickly thrusting two fingers in as he unbuckled his pants, stretching your pussy wide so he could fit, your guttural moan fueling his own, hands on your ass, spreading you as he pressed his girth into you.
He grinded his dick into you, thrusting slowly, starting off with a steady pace, your wetness lubricating his dick, sliding in and out of you so easily– fingers flicking your clit continuously as he moved in you. Your moans and the creeking of the table udnerneeth tempting him to cum right then and there, but no– no, this was way to good to finish early.
You guys got caught, and kicked out. But atleast you both finished 🤷🏿♀️.
Geto Suguru - Words
Geto Suguru who loves it when you talk dirty. Text him how bad you need him and he's already behind you, spreading your legs. Talk about how much you've missed him while trailing your hands on his chest and those hands will be tied together as he fucks you mercilessly (maybe a bit mercifully, he loves you after all). Imply anything and he will find the underlined want, he reads people well, and you're his favourite book.
"Mm– Ah- Suguru–!" You cummed in his mouth for what felt like the hundreth (fifth) time since you sent that text. You knew he got turned on by it but immediately ringing on your doorbell after one "I need you" text? This man was.. Something else.
His mouth worked wonders on your clit; kissing and sucking softly, tongue traveling in you resulting in his thumb replacing where his lips once were. His mouth and your cunt slick with your juices; previous releases– oh and don't forget how he worked his fingers. One finger stretched you– now imagine two of them– you could only take so much.
One hand was pressing your thigh against the couch, keeping your legs open as his other hand had two of his girthy fingers deep in you, thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his lips kissed the surrounding area– notably your inner thighs, eyes focused on your face.
Did he know how hot he looked right now? Your cunt clenched around his fingers and he smirked, only making you react further, fingers curling just the way you liked it, you made it so easy for him.
"You like that?" And you squirmed, Suguru internally noting that as a yes as his fingers moved faster, hand spreading your legs further open.
"Gonna need you to keep your legs open for me." He gazed down at you leaving a couple hickies your thighs, your thighs instinctevely closing but his grip was stronger, observing eye never leaving you.
"Come on, nothing to say?" He chuckled. "That's not what I read earlier, you need me don't you? Need me in you or my fingers? Want me to fuck you senseless or.."
He kissed your thigh up further, fingers moving at such a fast pace– Oh god you can't take much more.
"Mn–Ah–! Suguru G'nna cum– 'M so close–!"
"Yeah?"
He smirked, stopping, making you beg for release, taking a moment to revel in your desperate plees, before giving in and letting your cum on his fingers, bringing them up to his lips, murmuring something about 'way better than curses'.
"Open up."
His cum sokaed fingers teased at your lips, dripping down to your chin as you obeyed. He paused just for a second to look at your opened mouth, letting his mind run before pressing his index and middle finger deep in your throat, making you gag slightly.
"Suck my fingers."
You obeyed again, Suguru briefly muttering a 'good girl', proceeding to lower his head again, now with three fingers at his disposal.
Three fingers wasn't enough to prepare you.
Nanami Kento - Actions
Nanami Kento that just finds everything you do, insanely attractive. Walk in a certain way and he suddenly feels hot, tilt your head a bit too much and two hickeys will magically find their ways to your neck. Exorcize a curse too well, and his back will suddenly be littered with marks. It's not like he's horny all the time– you just give him no choice, not when the moment you see that glint in his eyes you're suddenly all over him. He doesn't make the rules, but you definitely abide by them.
Kento may be called a stickler for the rules but that's simply what he is. For one, he isn't one to partake in public indecency.
Gojo might, God knows Kento holds him to no standards. But he does hold himself to many, and fucking in a parking lot isn't something that fits in those standards. Not like he cares right now anyways, he's pussy drunk.
His hands were on your ass, your nipple in his mouth, licking and teasing as you bounced on him, your body above him, hips raised ever so slightly to fuck you aswell, breathy grunts leaving his lips.
It's not his fault that during your weekly night drive you decide to tease him. Sure, holding his hand isn't technically teasing, but– Come on, you were rubbing his finger so suggestively– pulling his hands from your thigh closer to your core– you can't blame him.
The car was feeling all too warm, his seat moved back to accommodate the both of you, his hand under the crook of your knee, raising your leg so he could–
"Mn‐Ah! Kent-ngh–!" He slapped your ass. hips rutting up into you, so deep but not deep enough– lewd squelching sounds muffled by the sound sounds your moans, having to brace yourself by holding onto the car door, anything–
"Agh–" He cummed, velvety walls getting filled with his warm seed, cock still in you so nothing could spill out, mouth moving from your sentive nipples up your neck to your lips, soft and supple, your cunt clenching around him, fluids meshing together.
"This was a one time thing. Next time will be in bed."
The next time, was in fact, not in bed.
#itadori x reader#yuuji x reader#fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#inumaki x reader#toge x reader#yuta okkotsu#yuuta okkotsu#yuuta x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru x reader#nanami kento#nanami x reader#kento x reader#jjk#smut#lemon#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu geto#jujustsu kaisen x reader#lime#drabble#cotzucen#brainrot#satoru x reader
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summary: in which jungkook gets his motorcycle license and you don’t believe in fate.
idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, a dash of angst / word count: 5.5k
content/warnings: protective!bf jungkook 🫡 / jk gives oc h*ckeys / jk is sad and scared bc many couples r breaking up :( then he gets h*rny and i can’t blame him bc oc is hot / oc loves short skirts n jk is stressed / oc gets an anxiety attack !! bc they thought jk got into an accident / bam cameo <3
> in which masterlist!
note: ART REPORTING FOR DUTY 🫡 it’s been a while so i feel quite rusty and my brain is fried pls bear with me </3 i’m excited to post regularly again and get back into the flow hehe. as always feedback and reblogs are appreciated! 🥺
—
it is a rather calm afternoon in your shared apartment. you and jungkook may be together in the living room, but you’re each spending your alone time.
you’re sitting on the couch with bam’s head on your lap, your not-so-little baby sleeping soundly. you indulge yourself in a fashion magazine, occasionally lifting your head when you sense your boyfriend staring at you longingly from the desk. he would quickly avert his eyes to feign obliviousness, switching between the laptop or his phone to busy himself.
“babe, spit it out.” you giggle, lowering down the magazine from your face. “is there something wrong…? what do you want?”
“no, it’s nothing. just ignore me.”
“then you’re going to be upset with me when i actually do it?”
“yah! that’s not true!” he looks at you wide-eyed, chest puffing up in defense. “it’s really nothing, okay? you can go back to reading.”
“mkay, whatever you say… i’m not reading, though.”you mumble the last sentence, burying your nose in the magazine again.
with a glittery golden-inked pen, you draw a star beside a bag from the spring/summer collection that you fell in love with at first sight. you hear the clacking of the keyboard pause and resume, pause and resume, but you ignore your boyfriend’s beseeching glances like he asked you to.
minutes pass by on the clock as you flip the pages with twinkling eyes and silent squeals, but they feel like hours to jungkook.
he blinks at the laptop screen as he sinks his teeth on his bottom lip.
he just needs to do it— get it over with. whatever it is, he’s certain that the two of you could reach some sort of compromise… right?
he puts on a face of determination before wheeling the gaming chair towards where you are. and with no one to blame but himself, he releases a disgruntled noise when he collides with the leather couch. the impact sends him a couple of feet away from his destination, but his hands find purchase on your exposed thighs and he brings himself back to you.
his clinginess never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.
you smile in secret, silent as he hooks his arms underneath your knees and lies his head beside bam’s. he kisses bam’s forehead, and in a somewhat twisted way, you are grateful for all the times the universe tugged at the string of joy and made you chase after it, because it led you here.
he has folded himself in a position that looks wildly uncomfortable, but jungkook likes to torture his senses for some reason, so you let him be. you pretend that no one has invaded your space, attached theirself to you so close that you’re carrying a quarter of their weight; feeling tickled by their exhales against your skin.
you planned to mix yourself a cocktail halfway through your magazine, but that is pushed to the bottom of things you can do now that your boyfriend is displeased with the lack of attention from his lover.
“this won’t do!”
his impatience forces him out of the chair and onto the couch, where he sneaks his strong arms around your waist. the movements shakes bam awake from his slumber. the doberman sits up, tiredly blinks at his father as if he is so done, and leaps off the couch to strut to his house.
jungkook scratches his head guiltily. “bam! dad is sorry that he disturbed your sleep!”
to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t receive a reply.
“oh, bam, are you mad at me…? you can’t be, right? you must understand… we both really love ____, don’t we?”
but he does receive one from you— a fond gaze that thinks of him bizarre.
“he’s not mad!” he defends himself.
“he should be. we were having a peaceful time together.”
“yah, that’s so mean. i’m part of this family too!” he complains with a scowl. “i want to cuddle.”
“no one’s stopping you, babe.”
this time, he hides his face in the crook of your neck.
he breathes you in, and his mind becomes clouded with the natural scent of you, so uniquely you, sweet and fresh like the clouds on a spring day, mixed with a hint of strawberries. humans smell fragrant flowers and break off their stems. jungkook smells you and he bites, sinks his teeth on your skin, sucks, again and again, and then soothes the ache with a slow and gentle slide of his tongue, but it doesn’t erase the marks that blossom into a hue of a bruise.
he licks his lips, wet with saliva, feeling cocky with the memory of your sharp inhales— cockier when he lifts his head and sees the dilation of your pupils behind a curtain of haze.
however, they’re still trained towards the fashion items printed on paper that you so desperately wish would materialize into thin air.
he groans.
“baaaaby,”
“mhmmm?” you mimic the tone of his whine, resting your head on his shoulder— just to be closer, let him know you’re here and you’re listening.
he clears his throat, prepares for the worst.
“these days, there’s something i’ve been thinking of a lot… i’ve been researching here and there, too…”
“about?”
“motorcycles…”
“okay,”
“okay?”
bewildered by your nonchalant response, he pulls away to squint at you in suspicion.
“…i’m planning to buy one and get a license? like, maybe next week?”
“okay,” you repeat yourself.
hit with a twinge of confusion, you briefly tear your eyes away from the beautiful gowns worn by beautiful models.
“are you telling me or are you asking me?”
“uh- uhm,” he stutters. “i’m telling you.”
“alright then,”
his chest puffs up as he inhales sharply. “that’s it?!”
“what do you want me to say?” you flip a page, a flicker of amusement flashing across your face. “you’re not allowed to…? i mean- sure, i can do that, too.“
“no, no, no, no, no-” he kisses your cheek— nearly, barely, he’s smiling too big to do it properly. “no, really! are you serious?”
“why won’t you believe me?” the magazine lands on your lap as you cross your arms in annoyance. “what do you think of me?”
“i heard couples really fight about this in particular, though?” he chuckles, and it’s your pouted lips’ turn to be granted a kiss. “sorry, i assumed you won’t approve of this one. you’re so strict with me about driving safely.”
“it’s no problem because i know you’re responsible. i just get worried sometimes,” you mumble. “when you’re tired from work.”
“i know,”
“good,” you sigh, leaning into him to steal a kiss yourself. “can i just ask you for one thing then?”
“yes,” he nods eagerly. “anything.”
“if i find out that you didn’t wear a helmet one time…” you tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth, unsure what type of reaction you will elicit. “you’re getting rid of it.”
“three times-”
“oh my god, absolutely not!”
the sheer horror painted on your face further fuels his mischief.
“twice?”
“you said anyth-”
“please?”
“no! then i’m getting rid of it myself!”
you shove his shoulder, and he allows himself to fall flat on the couch before bouncing back with the mission to ease your mind.
“i’m just joking, baby!” his giggles fill the entire apartment.
he cages your face in his hands but you stubbornly resist.
“i’m joking- i’m joking. i’m sorry. come here, give me a kiss.”
he makes a smooching sound with his puckered lips and you send an unimpressed glare in return.
“promise me first,” your fingers wrap around his wrist to deny his affectionate advances. “one time!”
“i promise!”
“and you won’t get angry at me?”
and with that, his heart begins to ache in his chest. the shift in your voice, the nervousness blanketed by softness… fuck.
“how hard can that possibly be?”
he just remembered how upset you were when he got himself infected after visiting a tattoo shop in america. you told him it would probably be best to do more research on the place, but he isn’t jungkook if he isn’t stubborn. it was hell, to say the least. being in pain and fighting with you for days. you would tend to him and the silence would rub salt on the wound.
today, however, he was more than prepared to defend his case in the event that he faces rejection.
he doesn’t.
on the contrary, he is a given a gift.
“i hate you,” you whimper, but your words contradict the way you respond to his kisses— the sharpness of them has been dulled by his tongue. he tastes like the green apple lollipop that you completely forgot you left on the desk four days ago.
he draws back with a playful grin.
thief… your kisses and your candy and your body and your heart. all his.
“huh, you don’t mean that.”
“i do!”
“i love you,” he utters tenderly. “i trust you to set me straight when i need to get my shit together.”
“then you understand that i just don’t want it to become a habit, right…?”
what does he think of you? a person who treats him with utmost gentleness, supports his happiness, and worries about his safety— a person more important to him than himself.
“and even if it’s only one time… we never know what’s going to happen. i wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you outside the celebrity segment of the news. jungkook, i swear.” you pray that he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice, disguising it with a layer of humor. “i will lose my mind.”
“of course i understand! that won’t ever happen, baby! i want to tell you not to worry too much, but… but to be honest… i think i will be more upset if you don’t lecture me about this kind of thing at all.”
“really?”
“yes. because then doesn’t that mean you no longer care about me?”
this whole time, you’ve been saying i don’t want you to get hurt i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you, and he hears you clearly— like how one recognizes their favorite song playing in public even from far away.
you smile sheepishly. “show me the motorcycle you want.”
your outspoken interest makes jungkook’s face light up like a christmas tree.
“there’s actually a few that i’m looking at…” he trails off, running back to the desk to grab his laptop.
“i’ll help you choose!” you clap your hands excitedly. “is there a pink one?”
“pink?!” he exclaims, which is then followed by endeared laughter. “you want it?”
you assume that he is going to ignore the silly idea, that is until he returns to his seat beside you.
“sure, there should be one somewhere.” he whispers, more to himself, typing away on the keyboard to feed your curiosity.
“really? really?” you babble, clinging to his arm to take a peek at the screen.
“hmmm,” he hums. “get a license too and i’ll buy it for you.”
a sound of disapproval bubbles in your throat. “eh, not for me. i want you to use it.”
jungkook dramatically pauses. he stares at you, doe eyes infront of blazing headlights.
he releases a burdened sigh.
“why me?!”
—
“bend over,” jungkook commands sternly, standing arms crossed infront of the bedroom door to deny your exit. “right now.”
“eh?” you gape at him. “but aren’t we goi-”
“i said turn around, baby.”
you’re left with no choice when his patience runs thin and he captures your hand— it comes so naturally when you twirl on your toes as if you’re waltzing to a slow love song. he pushes you forward gently, and you carry your innate grace all the way to the arch of your back.
jungkook swallows down a moan elicited by the tantalizing view, clearing his throat. he masks the sound by unceremoniously spanking your ass, the skin-to-skin contact also causing a sharp sting to spread across his palm.
“shit- i knew it, it’s too short.” he tugs your skirt down, a useless attempt at concealing your white lace underwear. he harshly breathes out in exasperation. “baby, i can see everything! you can’t ride a motorcycle wearing this!“
“what? motorcycle?! i can finally ride it?!”
you only heard one word come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, it seems.
you flip in excitement, facing him again with a smile as bright as the sunny sky outside. “you got your license? why didn’t you tell me?!”
“i was going to surprise you but-”
he still looks stressed out, eyes trained to your skirt- well, your legs. the skirt is barely there.
“going back here from the parking lot to change would be-”
“but it’s miu miu,” you quietly remark, looking down at the article of clothing with a frown. “it’s not that short…”
“look at the mirror,” he points to your left with his eyes, but then he is already carrying you by the curves of your waist so that your back is facing it.
you bend down on your own, and jungkook clicks his tongue when you only giggle heartily upon seeing your own reflection.
“it’s fiiine! you’re there to protect me. i just won’t bend down.”
“but won’t you get cold?”
“nope!” you reply without a second to spare. “for fashion, i never get cold.”
it’s been more than five years since he met you; jungkook knows damn well that is very far from the truth. not a single autumn and winter have passed that he didn’t lend you his jacket, his warmth, and then some more, simply because you refuse to stop wearing skirts until you’re at the verge of freezing to death.
alright, maybe he’s being dramatic, and you’re stubborn as hell.
“and i’m wearing my tall boots,” you raise your leg in a straight line to show off the leather brown boots that stop below your knees. “look, look… don’t i look cute?”
cute? such a word won’t do you justice. you’re acting like he’s not also looking at your panties.
“of course,” a soft smile replaces his hardened features. “you look so beautiful, baby.”
“hm, thought so,” you scrunch your nose, and his heart skips a beat.
damn, but that- there’s definitely no other word to describe it but the word cute.
“but how about, let’s say, wearing a coat over it?”
“jungkook! no!” you grunt, punching his arm- but then a lightbulb illuminates your brain.
“or shorts under it-”
“oh my god, i think you have one that matches. i remember i saw it the other day-”
“no, wait, wait, wait- shorts are safer! ____!”
you sprint back to the walk-in closet, leaving jungkook alone in the bedroom.
“come back here!”
he jerks his head in distress, rubbing his eyes harshly with his tattooed knuckles.
“ah, ____!”
“what?!” you yell, voice bouncing off the walls of your apartment. “i found it!”
—
“is it too tight?” jungkook inquires, looking up to you from the floor.
you bend your knees to assess the tightness of knee pads. “nope, it’s good.”
he proceeds to grab the elbows pads he hung over the handle of the motorcycle.
“hmmm, next… you wear these instead.”
you pout, recalling that he forgot his riding jacket at work yesterday. “but what about you?”
“i only have one pair.” he says. “it’s fine, it’s just for now. let’s pick up my jacket at the company before going to the museum.”
“how about let’s wear one each?”
upon processing the mechanics of your suggestion, his tall and broad frame shakes with mirth.
you obviously grew up with little siblings. they were so lucky to have you.
“hey! what are you laughing at?”
“nothing, you’re just cute.” he chuckles, wrapping the other protective pad around your left elbow. “just wear them both. i’m confident with my driving but… i still need you as safe as possible, baby.”
“but jungkook! what if y-” you whine out a protest, which he instantly silences by slipping your helmet over your head. “ugh, you’re so rude!”
he beams with pride as he clips its straps beneath your chin. “wow, it fits so perfectly? i only guessed… ah, as expected of jeon jungkook.”
his hand freezes on the visor when you strike him with the beady eyes, pouting your lips to request for a kiss, which he grants— more than willingly. gladly. happily. with pleasure.
cruising through the city on a motorbike with the love of his life; going on dates; putting on your helmet for you and learning how to angle his face for when he steals a kiss— he used to only witness this in romance films.
at the end of the day he’s just a simple man, jungkook admits.
what a dream come true.
—
it definitely becomes clearer to jungkook today— why you did not oppose the idea of him getting a motorcycle license on such short notice.
“this is so cool!“ you squeal behind him, subconsciously raising the pitch of your voice to contest with the wind and the roaring engines.
“____, be careful,” he chides you. “or else i’ll slow down!”
a sense of relief washes over him as you readjust your arms around his waist, your weight resting on him ironically making his chest feel lighter.
if only jungkook could protect you by keeping you bubblewrapped at all times, he would.
“you’re enjoying this more than i expected.”
the two of you idle before a red light. he balances the two-wheeled vehicle with his left foot planted on the ground.
“is it fun?”
“so much fun!” you gush, enthusiasm overflowing past the seams of your lips. “you already drive like a pro!”
“of course! i studied hard! i don’t plan on putting you in danger with my stupidity!”
“still-” you interject. “you’re just good at everything.”
while he is aware that he is gifted in many ways, technically speaking, jungkook knows he can’t possibly be good at everything. but hearing it come from the person he love and adore most in the world? he can’t help but to allow it to inflate his ego a little bit.
ten seconds before the traffic light turns green.
his smirk is hidden inside his helmet, but you can masterfully envision it in your head just from the transparent smugness in his voice.
“time to hold on again, baby.”
“i think you just like me feeling you up.” you muse.
you teasingly slip one hand underneath his shirt to caress his toned stomach, and he hisses out a curse. with how strict you are about road safety, one would assume that you would restrain on being frisky while riding a vehicle thirty times more dangerous than a car. you either have too much in trust your boyfriend or you underestimate your effect on him.
in his case, double the thirty.
the engine roars to life and the wheels screech against the concrete road. your gentle touch turns into a bruising grip on his waist.
jungkook thinks that you might be right. he would never miss an opportunity to feel your skin on his skin. he selfishly decides then and there— he now prefers motorycle rides with you.
—
it doesn’t take you long to catch up to that fact. when he tells you wear something comfortable, you also know not to spend too much time doing something cute with your hair because the helmet will just turn it into a tousled mess. for the past two months, he has been calling you every night to ask whether you want to be picked up from work with the bike or the car, because as much as you both relish in the thrill and the wind and the intimacy, sometimes you fall asleep on the way home from exhaustion and he doesn’t want you… quite literally falling on the streets of seoul.
but today is your day-off, and with your head hanging from the edge of the bed, you tear your attention away from your phone to find jungkook is upside down. he stands outside the bedroom door hugging your rainbow hello kitty plushie to his chest, frowning woefully with a cause you are clueless about.
the contrast of his black t-shirt with the rainbow makes you crack a smile, reminiscent of the countless memes you’ve seen on the internet. you find it funny, but mostly endearing. because you’re the one who loves colors but dreams of nightmares, while he loves dark colors but dreams of stars, fairies, and soaring through skies and different dimensions. you don’t believe in fate. however, jungkook believes that it was fate that brought him to you, and that you are the person he is destined with. you don’t believe in fate, but you wholeheartedly, unequivocally believe in him.
“i was watching the news-” he huffs, seemingly perplexed. “why is everyone breaking up all of a sudden?”
“who broke up?”
he freezes, attempting to recall the names that flashed across the television screen only minutes ago. “i honestly don’t know them, but still!”
“then why are you pouting?”
he doesn’t answer. instead, he carelessly tosses the plushie on the bed before climbing on it, sneaking his arms between your torso and the mattress to engulf you in a bone-crushing embrace. your phone slips away from your grip, buried somewhere in the sheets, but when big bundle of love and warmth is over you, it’s impossible to be consumed by anything else.
you weave your fingers through his hair, whispering teasingly. “scared of being in the headlines too?”
“scared…” he agrees, then he doesn’t. “of losing you.”
he scoots closer to nuzzle his face against your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.
“i-it’s just,” he pauses. “ah, i don’t know! nevermind, forget it.”
“no, tell me. it’s okay.” your hands cup his cheeks, coaxing him to look at you. “tell me what’s bothering you. whatever it is. i’ll listen.”
there’s a glint of melancholy on his glassy eyes, and you desperately want to know what brought forth this pain so you can take it all away. your heart shatters when his nose scrunches into a sniffle, skin becoming more flushed, a shade of red that dusts his skin only when he cries.
“when couples break up after a long time… many of them say…” he trails off, held back by uncertainty.
“they say?” you urge him to continue, pretending to be absorbed in fixing his hair— running your fingers through the soft locks, rearranging his bangs, trying to see if they’re long enough to be tucked behind his ears— all in an indulgent effort to show him that this type of conversation doesn’t need to be awkward or intense.
“they say that… that they just woke up one day and- and realized they were no longer-” his lips curve into a frown, deeper than before, and you mirror him without knowing. “happy, or in love.”
he breathes shakily, avoiding your eyes to gather himself together.
fuck, jeon jungkook. man up! are you seriously going to cry right now? like this?
“and we’ve been together for five years.”
“almost five,” you correct him with a sweet smile, poking his soft cheek right where one of his dimples would be. “our anniversary is right around the corner.”
the unadulterated joy you radiated as you spoke those words makes the trepidation in his brain glitch.
“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. please continue.”
he licks his lips, and then opens his mouth but- “i’ve lost my train of thought.”
“oh my god, i’m sorry.”
“for what?”
“you were talking about something serious.” you wince guiltily.
“our anniversary is something serious too!” he points out, pouting cutely.
“yes, but… it’s a different story, breakups are- jungkook! why are you suddenly laughing?!” you sputter, shoving him away in annoyance when you hear a snort in the midst of his uncontrollable giggles. “what’s so funny…? you were just so close to crying!”
he shakes his head profusely, collapsing over you, but he ends up rolling over to the side so he can lie on his back and clutch at his aching belly.
“ah, ____! my heart fluttered when you mentioned our anniversary. i totally forgot what i was talking about!”
if it fluttered earlier, now it goes absolutely wild in his ribcage.
your positions are switched before he can comprehend it— you’re now on all fours on top of him. his head is trapped in between your arms and your gold necklace is dangling over his face and you’re straddling his lap and now it’s getting harder to breathe and not picture obscene images that involve you worshipping his body.
he probably likes this way too much than he cares to admit.
“do you see it now?”
he purses his lips, obviously distracted, controlled by his desire for you as he finds the curves of your waist to caress. “see what?”
“that you don’t need to be anxious about us not being happy in the future, because we’re happy right now.”
he cannot detect an ounce of hesitation even if he tried. you are steady. you are sure. something intangible and inexplicable floods your souls when your eyes meet, but the two of you know that it exists and it is real.
“fuck… i love you. i fucking love you so much.” his voice borders on a growl, and a whimper escapes your lips just before they crash against his for a kiss so full of passion that it completely catches you offguard. he pulled you down so swiftly that your hands anchored on the bed scrambled for his forearms to break your fall, nails digging into his skin as you balance yourself.
jungkook isn’t much for words, but something in him always wants more. he likes to speak with his tongue in a way so sweet that it compels you to abandon your vocabularies in the farthest back of your mind.
you sit down on his lap breathless after making out. your boyfriend watches you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, slipping his hands underneath his head as he cockily grins in satisfaction.
you roll your eyes at the sight of his biceps being shamelessly flexed. “bastard,”
“bastard you’re crazy about,”
“unfortunately,” you sigh with faux disappointment, hugging the hello kitty plushie you picked up from the floor.
“want to go for a ride?”
“to where?”
“anywhere,” he shrugs. “it’s already late so there shouldn’t be traffic anymore.”
you jump off the bed without another word, returning a minute later clad in a black harley davidson jacket. you look so fucking chic and attractive in it, he always pats himself on the back for buying it for you.
jungkook would go against all laws of the universe if it meant spending a hundred more almost five years with you, until the hello kitty plushie you’re still hugging becomes gray and unrecognizable.
“babe, why are you still staring at me like that? i’m ready!”
—
from the entrance, jungkook discerns your familiar figure pacing back and forth across your designated parking spaces. you appear to be engrossed in your phone as you nibble on your thumb, which he knows to be a tell-tale sign of your anxiety. you just got your nails done, and for the first three days, you’re usually very conscious of messing them up.
you fail to notice the loud presence of his motorcycle, not until he has successfully parked and pushed down its side stand on the ground.
“baby! what are you doing out here?”
he lifts off the helmet, ruffling his hair to tame it. and as he brushes his stubborn bangs away from his eyes, that’s when he sees his lover overcome with distraught.
his heart drops to his stomach.
your eyes are filled with unshed tears, chin trembling with the struggle of holding them back.
“jungkook!” you wail out his name, and you haven’t cried this loud since you were sixteen.
an unnamed neighbor walks by the scene and says to theirself, somebody must’ve died.
“yah- why? why, why, why?” he stumbles over his own words in panic, carelessly hanging the helmet on one of the handles of the motorcycle as he gets off. “what’s wrong? baby? what happened?”
you hide your face in the palms of your cold yet clammy hands, ashamed by the surge of your emotions flooding the parking lot as acid rain, but a sense of safety blankets you when jungkook gingerly tugs you towards him.
“i thought something bad happened to you! a car hit a motorcycle nearby- and i thou- i really thought-”
“oh, that’s right! how did you know?” he gasps. “i passed by them earlier. there were so many people and police officers.”
“jungkook!” you snap, hitting his chest in frustration.
“sorry- i’m sorry! okay, that was insensitive of me- fuck.” he rambles, and you visibly cringe when his glove-clad hands touch your face.
the texture, and only god knows all the places it’s been…
“there’s no need to cry, baby! i’m already here, aren’t i? i’m so healthy. there’s not a single scratch on me.”
he hastily takes off his jacket to reveal himself in a white sleeveless shirt. spotless that it looks brand-new.
“see? all good!“
you fall silent. your eyes frantically scan his body, but your brain doesn’t really register anything that you perceive.
“aigoo, why are you shaking so much?”
he can’t bear to watch you in this state. he feels nauseous, almost, like his gut is being twisted and wrung in different ways.
“my baby must’ve been so worried about me, is that right? come here.”
in the solace of jungkook’s embrace, wrapped in his strong arms that are, praise heavens, not broken, the pounding of your heart gradually returns to normal.
his, however, becomes louder. and these days he likes to believe that he is no longer the crybaby he once was, but his skin feels flushed as tears fills his eyes, because damn, what a blessing it is to be loved by you.
he leans on the motorcycle, lovingly rocking you back and forth with shushes and soft hums.
time flies by when you are floating, but jungkook is patient as he waits for you to land and come home to him, even when his feet have fallen asleep.
“you haven’t forgotten your promise?” you whisper.
“never not wear a helmet,” he coos, pressing his lips to your temple. “of course i haven’t forgotten.”
“good,” you mumble, drawing back. “go home and shower. you’re all so sweaty.”
“i will. i feel so sticky.” he chortles. “this is so annoying. i hate summer!”
—
you continue to cling to jungkook all the way to the apartment unit, arms circled around his torso and soft cheek smushed against his back. snuggling him from behind like a koala does a tree is a newly-discovered joy. and if you were single you would be rolling your eyes at a person for saying this, but it is quite wonderful to have a boyfriend for a pillow that is also a blanket. has anyone invented that?
“you know, i regret not getting a motorcycle earlier.”
“why?”
the door opens with a short jovial jingle as a signal.
“i saw someone with a puppy in a basket this morning. it was even wearing goggles! it was really cute!” he laments, dragging you along with him into the living room. “ah, i’m an idiot. why didn’t i think of that? we could’ve done that with bam!”
you form the mental image of tiny baby bam wearing tiny goggles and a tiny leather jacket, and then another, but with the current bam.
“but bam is already as big as the bike!” you dissolve into laughter.
jungkook grunts, and you can’t tell whether he’s genuinely feeling this regretful or he’s just trying to distract you after you broke down with the mind-numbing anxiety of losing him forever.
“exactly!”
you sink into the couch, instinctively reaching for the hello kitty plushie to hug. meanwhile, he begins stripping off his shirt.
“it’s not even possible at all now!”
“but i do want to see him wear goggles…” you say in jest, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your shorts. “should i look for one?”
wait, what do you even type for it? dog goggles?
“i found them. there are helmets, too.” you gasp, covering your mouth as an epiphany hits you. “the puppy wasn’t wearing a helmet?”
driven by curiosity, jungkook sits next to you as you search for the item online. he is practically naked, left wearing only his black calvin klein boxers.
“oh,” he pauses. “now that you mention it, the puppy wasn’t wearing one.”
“how are you still sweaty?” with your thumb, you wipe the bead of sweat threatening to enter his eye. “go shower first.”
he manages to sneak a chaste kiss to your wrist before it becomes out of reach.
“before that, i need to tell you something.”
you bob your head, encouraging him to speak out, but the longer you maintain eye-contact with him, the faster his impulsive courage melts into a puddle of nervousness.
marry me.
marry me.
“baby…”
“yes?” you half-smile. “what is it? you’re starting to scare me.”
marry me.
when i see the future, i only see you.
“i love you.”
—
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
—
#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook one shot#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic
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nicknames | S.R.
in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: fluff
content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.
word count: 591
a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)
You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.
Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.
JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”
You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.
Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”
“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.
Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”
You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”
JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.
Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”
As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”
He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.
He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.
Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”
The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.
You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”
Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau#david rossi#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#written by margot#spencer reid x fem!reader
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01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓
༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare
series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.
// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //
Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.
Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.
You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?
It had left you pissed off to no end, so.
Here you were.
"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.
You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.
"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.
Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.
"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."
Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?
"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.
"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.
There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.
"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."
A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.
You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.
"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"
"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.
"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."
"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.
You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.
There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...
They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.
Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.
Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.
Or.
One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.
Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.
Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.
Stupid, stupid girl, you think.
They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.
That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?
Then, there's a knock on your door.
Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.
"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"
You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.
The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.
"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.
A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.
"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.
So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.
You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.
This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.
Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.
Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.
Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.
It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.
It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.
You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.
Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.
You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.
When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.
"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."
"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."
You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.
Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.
"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.
"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.
"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."
You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.
"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.
You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."
There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.
"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.
You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.
Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"
If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.
You softly shake your head.
"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.
Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.
"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.
"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.
You swallow, mouth dry.
"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.
Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"
Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.
Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."
The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"
All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."
He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.
The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.
He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.
"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.
You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.
"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.
His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.
You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.
When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.
"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.
You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.
His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.
It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.
He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.
"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.
He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.
When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.
"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.
Like kissing the four men he warned you about.
Like doing more, maybe.
...Maybe.
His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.
He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"
And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.
"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"
Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.
"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."
The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.
You feel filthy, and you love it.
Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.
He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.
You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.
"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.
"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"
"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.
Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.
Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"
"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.
Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.
"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.
With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.
"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.
It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.
"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.
Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"
You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.
Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."
There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."
With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.
"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.
"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.
Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.
"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.
Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.
"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.
"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.
Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.
You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.
"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.
Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.
"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.
Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.
"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.
"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"
Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.
As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.
"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.
Dangerous men.
Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.
"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.
He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.
Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"
Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --
"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."
You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.
Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.
"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.
"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.
You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.
It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.
Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.
"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."
Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.
You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"
Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.
Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.
It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.
The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.
Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.
If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.
Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.
Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.
"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."
"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."
"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?
No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.
Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.
You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.
Oh. God.
"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."
What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?
Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.
Oh god.
Oh. God.
"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."
There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.
You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.
The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.
It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.
"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."
You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.
His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.
Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.
"Get off me!"
Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.
And those specific words, what --
"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.
Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.
You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.
"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.
But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.
"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.
"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."
"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"
Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.
Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.
There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.
"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.
"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.
There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.
First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"
And then...
A bullet.
The sound of a trigger being pulled.
The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.
The sound of a final breath.
Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.
Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.
He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.
And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.
a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah
#🤍 : lust for life#⌨️ : love's writing#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#mw2#simon ghost riley#soap cod#tf141#tf141 x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#price x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#gaz garrick#cod#kyle garrick#gaz mw2#gaz cod#soap x ghost#soapghost#call of duty x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#cod smut
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Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?
Sfw and NSFW
Like I'm brain dead for them
DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one
— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)
— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated
⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄
sfw.
⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!
“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”
⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.
“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”
⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!
“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”
nsfw.
⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.
aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”
⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.
aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”
⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘
sfw.
��� BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink
sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.
⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.
“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”
⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.
nsfw.
⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!
his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”
⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!
your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”
⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆
sfw.
⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!
⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!
you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”
⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!
“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”
nsfw.
⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.
"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”
⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.
he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”
@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.
#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse answers ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა#aventurine <33#sunday <33#il dan heng <33#honkai star rail#hsr smut#hsr x reader#sunday x reader#aventurine smut#honkai star rail smut#dan heng x reader#hsr x you#sunday smut#sunday x you#aventurine x reader#dan heng smut#dan heng x you#aventurine x you
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Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader
work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.
Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.
I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.
He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.
This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.
Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.
Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.
John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.
Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.
And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.
Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.
Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.
Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.
Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.
#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost x f!reader#price mw2#john price#captain price#captain price x female reader#captain john price#captain johnathan price#cod price#price cod#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#141 smut#cod smut#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#kyle gaz smut#gaz x y/n#gaz x reader#gaz x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick fluff
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✎ baby
- gojo satoru x reader
a domestic life with your husband and baby
genre:
teeth-rotting fluff, sugary dump fluff, and simply pure fluffff, baby-related, mentions of pregnancy, dad!gojo
note:
inspired by this fanart by Deltapork in twitter!
from the moment i saw that artwork, i just can't get this out of my head😫
and this is a part of a series of gojo drabbles i’ve planned called gojo's love entries anthology -> updated masterlist here
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
Watching your husband entertain your child would never fail to make you smile.
"Aw, my cute baby!" Satoru joyfully exclaimed as he and the baby, secure in his hold, emitted almost harmonious squeals of delight. Both of them practically shared the same brain cells at this point.
And it was a sight that warmed your heart so much, especially when the old Gojo Satoru was a prick who used to made little Megumi cry just for the sake of it and always said that babies and everything that came with them were a pain.
He playfully devoured your son's plump cheeks and burst into laughter, paying no attention to the curious glances he garnered from other shoppers at the supermarket.
"Satoru, hush," you chided gently as you pushed the cart, yet still smiling all the same.
"Ah, look, mama doesn't approve," he remarked to your babbling son, wearing a playful pout. At the same time, your barely seven-month baby puckered his lips too, turning him into a perfect miniature version of your mischievous husband at his best, melting your heart even further.
"It's time for his milk," you pointed out, retrieving the milk bottle. Satoru reached for it and offered it to your baby, who eagerly latched on and started drinking.
Your precious baby continued to feed on the formula, clearly relishing it. It appeared that he couldn't get enough, with the way he drank with such enthusiasm.
"He's a hungry baby... just like you," you mused.
Satoru laughed out loud once again. "Why are you comparing a baby with a grown-ass man?"
Your son was still drinking the milk and seemed like he wanted more, but you could definitely tell how content he was in that moment.
"Because it's your baby, duh. And not only he looks like you, he's also reflecting what you've been doing to me so far, it's uncanny."
"So I've turned our son into a mini-me now, have I." He regarded you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what have I done to you, darling? Tell me."
"...A lot of bad things."
"Heh, is that so?"
The baby then stopped drinking and seemed to want you to cuddle him, as he reached his tiny hands towards you. Satoru handed him over to you, taking the bottle away, and you gently pulled him close, cradling him against your chest.
"Yeah. Bad, bad things," you cooed to your baby, your eyes sparkling with joy. "First you seduced me, then got me pregnant. And then you forced me to go through that painful labor."
Satoru didn't miss the way the clerk eyed him after you said that. But he chuckled anyway. "Well... in the end you fell for me, and I probably seduced you a bit..."
He paid for the groceries and then the two of you walked out of the supermarket.
"But is that so bad?" He continued with a meaningful smirk. "You seemed like you love it so there's nothing to complain about."
"Hmph."
"And then I got you pregnant... well, you wanted a baby, dear, so you can't really be mad and blame just me for it all, okay?"
The fact that you were having this crack conversation at a crossroad made you struggle to stifle your laughter, to say the least.
Your son was still cuddling up to your chest and now he was looking at you with those wide, glassy blue eyes. You could tell how much he liked and needed you, as well as spending time with you, his mother.
This is your baby with the man who loves you. How could you not love him in return?
Satoru looked at his son in your arms. “Our son is the cutest, isn’t he?”
He seemed tired more than anything though, with the big yawn he just emitted.
“He is so… defenseless.”
“Well, he’s a baby,” your husband said matter-of-factly. “That’s how babies are, darling. He’s learning how to do things and completely defenseless, so he needs his parents. You and I.”
Your baby’s eyes became a little droopy. He was sleepy now, and wanted your warmth to fall asleep.
“Let’s… protect him together, yeah, Satoru?” you muttered softly as your child settled in your embrace, peaceful and content, falling asleep.
Your heartstrings were pulled when you witnessed the expression of absolute adoration on your husband's face.
“Silly. I’m the one who will protect both of you, sweetheart.”
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#gojo x reader#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#look i made a fluff!#oh god i almost can't stop#...i'm thinking of a series of drabbles for dad!gojo too omg#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy
synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help
contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!
word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)
notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋
he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.
he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses.
what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.
“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”
“you’re late,” you spit.
“am i? i could have sworn—”
“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy.
“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly.
what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.
“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”
“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”
typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.
he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials.
i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has.
but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed.
he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer.
you hate him.
“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”
“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”
“what?” your eye twitches.
“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”
before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.
“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”
“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”
is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.
“you’re an asshole,” you spit.
“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal.
“i saw you post on your story last night—”
“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”
“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”
“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”
“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.
“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.
“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”
“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”
“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”
“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.
—————
like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.
hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished
btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come
i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him
oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)
you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.
okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.
k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.
the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.
wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?
that’s ok i don’t judge
so how bout the party?
i can be ur escort ;)
it’ll be fun!
from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.
—————
gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you.
frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.
he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before.
it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes.
why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself?
gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy.
“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly.
why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.
“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.
gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.
“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.
“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”
“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”
“he has a name. it’s—”
“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”
“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?
“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”
“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.
okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.
he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”
“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”
“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”
“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”
“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”
“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”
“you mentioned it first!”
“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”
“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”
“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”
he is not lazy, he wants to argue.
but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway.
—————
the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy.
gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are.
“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”
“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.
“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”
you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood.
“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.
“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”
you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”
he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can.
“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”
“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.
“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams.
settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.
“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”
he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.
“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”
“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”
you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird.
okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.
“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room.
“what makes you say that?”
“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”
he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.
“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”
“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.
“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”
“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact.
but not so bad.
“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”
“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”
“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”
—————
“hey, satoru?”
“that’s not my name.”
“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.
“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.”
you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.
“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.
“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”
“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”
“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”
“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”
finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.
satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real
#teepods.writings#fics.#rich boy! au#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you
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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+
Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.
Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.
Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie
I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)
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As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.
Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”
Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.
“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.
You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.
“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.
Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”
He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.
You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.
Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.
Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”
“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”
“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”
“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.
He melts. “Sure.”
You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.
“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”
As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”
Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?
The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.
The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.
“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.
“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”
“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.
“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”
Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.
You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.
“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”
“Payback?”
“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.
“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”
You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”
“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”
“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.
“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”
Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”
“Eh, ten.”
You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.
The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.
The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.
That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.
Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.
The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.
The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.
You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”
Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.
“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”
“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”
You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.
Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.
“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”
You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”
“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”
You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”
“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”
You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”
“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.
“What?”
“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”
You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”
“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”
“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.
“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”
Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.
You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.
You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.
Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”
“Absolutely!”
-
Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.
It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.
Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.
At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.
The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”
He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”
He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”
Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”
He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”
Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.
It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”
A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”
“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”
Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.
“She asked you out?”
“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”
That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.
Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.
This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.
“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”
“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”
“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.
Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”
This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.
“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”
You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.
Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.
You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.
-
A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.
The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.
For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.
“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”
Your heart shatters. “That good?”
“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”
Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”
Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”
The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”
He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”
“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”
He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.
“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”
You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.
“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”
The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”
He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”
“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.
“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”
The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.
His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.
He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.
-
The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.
“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.
It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.
“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”
Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”
“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.
Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.
“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.
“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.
In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.
“Sure.”
As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.
On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.
The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.
The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.
The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.
That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.
His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.
By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.
Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.
“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.
“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”
Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”
You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”
“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.
Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”
“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”
How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?
“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”
Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”
“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.
The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.
“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”
Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”
You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”
After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”
“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”
You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”
Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.
The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.
Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.
The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.
Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”
You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”
“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.
“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.
“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”
“Why?”
“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”
You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”
“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.
“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”
He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”
“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”
“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”
“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”
“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.
“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”
“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”
No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.
“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.
You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”
“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”
“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.
“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”
“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”
“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”
“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”
“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.
“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”
“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”
“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.
“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”
“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.
Because it turned into hell.
-
As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.
It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.
Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”
“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.
He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”
“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.
“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.
You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.
The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.
Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.
Right?
The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.
It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”
“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”
“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.
She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”
“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”
“Yes please!”
You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.
“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”
As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”
You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.
“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.
“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.
“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.
“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.
“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.
The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.
She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.
You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.
Where she’s a friend.
You have to try.
“What are we watching?”
Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”
“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”
Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”
“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”
As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.
“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.
“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.
You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.
Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.
He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.
With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.
His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”
Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.
Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?
Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.
Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”
Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.
Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.
You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–
“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”
No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.
Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.
As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”
You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.
“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.
Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.
“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.
You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.
“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”
She nods.
“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”
“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.
“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.
Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.
“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”
Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.
“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.
“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.
“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”
“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.
“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”
“When did you start coming?”
“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”
“Why didn’t you want to go?”
Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”
Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.
Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.
Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.
The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.
“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.
“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.
Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.
“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”
“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.
“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.
“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.
“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”
“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”
“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.
In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.
The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.
As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”
The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.
Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.
Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.
“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”
Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.
Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”
“Hmm?”
“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”
If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.
“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”
That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.
-
There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.
On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.
Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.
Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.
She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.
“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.
“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.
You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”
“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”
“Sweet.”
“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”
“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”
“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.
You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.
“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”
You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”
“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.
“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.
She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.
You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.
Oh. He’s not going to.
“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.
Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”
Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.
If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.
Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”
You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.
You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”
Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.
-
Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.
“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.
“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”
“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”
You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”
“To who?”
You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”
“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”
“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”
“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”
That, you agree with.
“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”
You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.
You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.
That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.
The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.
It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.
It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.
As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.
Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.
Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.
As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.
A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.
Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.
The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.
You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.
Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.
His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.
She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.
Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.
You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.
You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.
The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.
The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.
When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.
You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.
-
The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.
Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.
He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”
You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.
“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”
“Hey. How was the cupcake?”
“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”
You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.
“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.
“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”
“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”
“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.
“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.
“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.
“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.
“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”
Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.
“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.
“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.
“Can we do something? Just you and me?”
He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”
…that never happened.
-
The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.
That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.
Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.
Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.
Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.
It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.
Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.
It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.
Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.
Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.
It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.
Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.
Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.
When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.
“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.
“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”
“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.
“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”
You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.
News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.
Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.
When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.
As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.
“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.
“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”
Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.
You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”
“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.
Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.
You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.
Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.
“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.
The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.
Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.
“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.
Daniel.
“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”
“Retribution.”
“Huh?”
He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”
What the fuck?
The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”
“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”
Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”
“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”
You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?
His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.
The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”
The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.
Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.
When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.
The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”
You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.
Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”
He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”
He stands there, blankly watching.
“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”
Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.
“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”
“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.
“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.
“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”
You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.
Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.
“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.
By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.
He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.
“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.
He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”
He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.
The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.
As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.
Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.
From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.
-
The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.
As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.
On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”
You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”
He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”
As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.
“Anything after that?”
You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.
“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.
“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”
“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?
Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.
“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.
Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.
“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”
Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.
Eddie.
“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”
“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.
Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.
“Is that all?”
He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”
That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.
From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.
The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.
Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.
Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.
For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.
Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.
This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”
You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.
“It’s me.”
You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.
-
Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.
He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?
You would think.
So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.
Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.
The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.
“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.
Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.
“I didn’t even know he was having one.”
She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”
He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.
He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.
By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.
He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.
Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.
Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.
He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.
Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.
“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.
His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.
The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.
Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.
Fuck this guy. Fuck him.
Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.
Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.
He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.
Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.
Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.
When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.
Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.
No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.
That conversation goes as well as can be expected.
In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.
Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”
“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”
“Is she okay?”
“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”
Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.
“Physically?”
Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”
“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”
“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”
Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”
“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.
“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…
Should Eddie have called the ambulance?
“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”
“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.
“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.
“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.
“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.
“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”
“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.
Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”
“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”
Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”
Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”
“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”
“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”
“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”
“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”
-
“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.
But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.
“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”
You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”
“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”
You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”
Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”
You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.
It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.
Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.
“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.
Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.
The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.
Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.
“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.
“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”
You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”
“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”
If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”
As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.
He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–
“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.
“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.
His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”
Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”
“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.
“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.
“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.
She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”
“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”
“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”
Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”
“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”
“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.
“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”
It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”
Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.
“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”
“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”
“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”
Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.
“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”
On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.
Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”
“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.
“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.
“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”
His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”
Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.
You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.
Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.
It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.
You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”
“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”
“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”
-
You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.
The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?
He’s more than willing.
When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.
Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”
You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.
White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.
The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.
As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.
It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.
The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”
You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”
You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”
You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”
You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.
He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.
The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.
Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.
“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.
You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.
“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”
Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”
“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.
His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”
“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.
“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.
You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”
His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.
Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.
His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.
The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”
You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.
You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.
Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”
It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”
“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.
“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.
Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”
The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.
He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”
“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.
“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”
“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”
Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”
Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.
It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.
Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.
“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”
“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”
Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”
You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.
He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”
You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.
“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.
On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.
The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.
You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.
Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”
He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.
There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.
Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.
All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.
Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.
“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”
You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”
“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.
“Probably.”
He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”
Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.
“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”
The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.
Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…
“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.
“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”
It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”
Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.
This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.
“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”
He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”
“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”
You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”
“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”
You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”
He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”
He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.
“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.
Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”
You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”
“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”
His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.
Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.
You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.
He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.
He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.
You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.
You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”
“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”
With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.
Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”
You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”
Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”
“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.
“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.
“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”
He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.
You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.
I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.
You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.
The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.
You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.
The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.
At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.
You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.
You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”
You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.
“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”
Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.
“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”
Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.
“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”
Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.
His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”
His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.
“What was that?”
He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”
You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”
“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”
A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”
You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.
He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”
You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”
You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.
“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.
You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”
“Mm, almost there, baby.”
“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”
Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.
You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”
“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”
“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.
“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.
“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”
“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.
Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”
You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.
“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”
You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”
You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”
He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”
Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.
His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.
“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.
“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”
“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.
“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.
“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”
“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.
Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”
His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.
He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.
“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”
“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”
“Fuck-you, y’sure?”
“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.
“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”
Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.
You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.
“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”
You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”
He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”
It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.
-
Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr
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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader smut
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Do You Like It Here?
Joel Miller x afab!Reader || W/C: 2k
Summary: Joel contemplates shaving his beard. You are absolutely against that idea, and he makes you explain why.
Content/Warnings: Pics above are for aesthetic purposes only. Neutral descriptions of an AFAB reader (“your top”, “your shorts”, “your breast”, etc.). No use of “y/n”. Joel can carry you but there are no other descriptions of reader. Implied age gap if you squint. Joel being big and burly. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Joel being a menace. Hints of body worship. Dirty talk. Reader liking facial hair for dirty reasons🤷🏻. Joel on his knees for you…. ✨Bathroom counter✨ Cunnilingus. Tongue fucking. Face grinding. Hair pulling (m receiving). Joel’s fucking nose deserves a warning😵💫 Allusions to further sexual activity. As always, let me know if I’ve missed anything!
A/N: Can we tell how much I think about Joel eating pussy?💚 My sweet sweet Roman Empire. Enjoy. :-)
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG -> @endlessthxxghtsnotifs
“Should I shave it off?”
You choke on your own spit, eyebrows hitting the ceiling. “What?”
“My beard. All this scruff. Should I shave it?” Joel asks you, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against his jaw, his eyes surfing his jawline in the mirror much too critically for your liking.
“Do you want to?” You reply back, curious to understand what is going on in that chaotic mind of his.
“No? Yeah? I mean,” he breathes. “I dunno. A lotta white is startin’ to come through, ‘n I feel like it makes me look… raggedy.”
You frown. “Baby,” you say softly.
You woke up before Joel, last night’s activities knocking him out cold right after you two cleaned each other up. Unfortunately for you, no matter how hard you fell into your slumber, your body always woke you no later than 7am. It was a blessing and a curse. You decided a shower was in order.
As soon as you finished and got dressed, your burly, grumpy and sleepy baby of a man stumbled into the bathroom. Wanting his presence always, you hopped up on the bathroom counter, your legs hanging off the edge, and stayed with him as he continued his morning routine. It was after he brushed his teeth and washed his face that he posed his question to you.
You place your hand on his jaw and pull him closer so he’s standing in between your legs. The light press of your fingertips never leave his face. “You don’t look raggedy,” you scold. “You look… well, you look fuckin’ sexy, for one. I love this look on you,” you admit, a little sheepish. Your eyes scan his facial hair once more before you glance at his eyes, then to his lips. Your finger traces his bottom lip. “So fuckin’ sexy,” you mutter, emphasizing your claim.
You don’t have to look into his eyes to know his demeanor shifted. You can feel the way his gaze darkened. He pulls himself closer to you, his knees knocking the cabinets. His hand starts on your knee, dragging it up your thigh and up your side until it settles on your jaw, his fingers grasping your chin to make you meet his eye. “Oh, is that so, darlin’?”
You gulp, your head softly nodding at his words; unable to speak as your eyes gloss over. “What else d’ya love about it, darlin’?” He pushes, his fingers tightening on your chin—words, he’s telling you.
You can feel every part of your body heat up. “It…it…” you stutter. His eyebrow flicks up with a faintness only you’d catch. You clear your throat in hopes it makes you speak up. “You- you’re already so big ‘n broad, ‘n this… the scruff… it just adds to- to you,” you tell him shakily, your brain starting to flood with just how much you love his facial hair. “P-plus, it- oh my god,” you whine, unable to stop the spew of shit that’s about to fly out of your mouth. “It feels so good when it rubs against my thighs ‘n my-” you gasp. You don’t remember when it got there, but his other hand is gripping your thigh, his strength tightening at the last words that fell from your lips.
Slow, tantalizingly slow, he leans in. He places a lengthy kiss to your lips; your eagerness gets the best of you as you try and deepen it, but he’s already breaking away—moving down. His lips grace your jaw, your neck—more open-mouthed and needy these ones are, and he pauses. “Ya like how it feels here?” He says against your neck. Then he’s moving lower.
He peppers kisses along your shoulder and the exposed parts of your chest your top shows. He licks and sucks at a particular sweet spot atop your breast. A breathy little moan escapes you, your arms falling limp to your sides—and out of his way. He pauses his kiss to breathe you in. Lavender. Vanilla. The shower you just finished still clinging deliciously to your skin. “Ya like it here, too, don’tcha?” He places one more kiss on the mark he just gave you, not giving you a moment to respond.
Then. He’s falling to his knees. Today was supposed to be a lazy day for you two, so you settled on solely a pair of sleep shorts. Nothing more. His hands settle themselves underneath your thighs, scooting you as close to the edge as possible without making you off balance. He’s so tall that on his knees, his nose is belly button level with you.
He pushes your thighs open. Starting at your knee, he places a swift kiss there. The higher he goes, the wetter and slower they become. A drop of sweat beads down your neck. His hands make their way to your sides, fingers dancing along the waistband. He meets your eyes for a silent confirmation. Planting your hands behind you for stability, you lift your hips for him, a whimpered please leaves your mouth.
He pulls your shorts off slowly—the wetness staining the center of your shorts peels off of you, the cold air interacting with your slick sends a shiver down your spine. Joel lets your shorts fall to the floor beside him, his eyes darting to your glistening sex. “Fuckin’ wet,” he growls. “All worked up from my white beard? My old age?”
“‘S not what I meant,” you sputter, the kiss he places to your mound throwing you off-kilter. His hands grab onto your waist and he’s angling your hips forward, giving himself a full view of you. He does it again—kisses your sex—but this time, he puts his whole face into you as he uses his tongue to aid him, his scruff tickling all around, on your thighs, your clit. Your hips buck into his face at the sensation, a louder moan reverberating against the bathroom walls.
“Oh,” Joel smirks. “Right there, huh. Ya like the way it feels right there? Right there on that sweet, perfect fuckin’ cunt, huh? Drives you mad? Wild?” He teases.
You lament at his words, conflicted between which you want more—hearing his mouth or feeling his mouth? You're pulled from your internal battle when you feel yourself become impossibly wetter: a glob of warm spit lands right where you need him most. Fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah okay, you want to feel him.
One hand behind you leaves from its place and reaches for his curls in an attempt to pull him into you. “Joel, baby, please,” you cry.
His head doesn’t budge no matter how strong you are. “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” he tells you. “Tell me what I wanna hear first, and then I’ll give it t’ya exactly, baby. Just be the good girl I know y’are f’me.”
“F-fuck. Fuck. Please, Joel, please-” you say impatiently. “I love the way it feels when I grind my fuckin’ pussy all over your face, baby, I love how it feels when it starts to burn against my thigh, the way it nudges and scrapes every part of me- it makes me feel like I’m on fuckin’ fire, baby, please,” you rasp.
“Atta girl, darlin’,” he coos, licking his lips before his hands pull you flush against his face, his tongue flying straight to your seam, licking a messy path that sends your slick and his spit everywhere. Instantly your head flies back, your hand curls into the roots of his hair once more as you moan and squirm against his grasp.
Joel loves spending his time down there, but regardless of the fact, you’ll never get used to how fucking good he makes you feel. Joel is ruthless when it comes to eating you out—always making you see stars even in the light of day.
“F-fuck, j-just like that, baby,” you pant, your one arm keeping you up threatening to lose balance at the greedy touch of his skillful tongue. He drags his muscle from your entrance and up to your clit, running circles and figure eights on it for a moment before he latches onto you—his lips completely wrapped as he suckles and continues to flick where you’re most sensitive. His dominant hand leaves your hip and he drags his fingers to your opening, his middle finger sliding in with ease—the sensation sending you to the edge of something white, hot, and all-consuming.
“I’m- I’m gonna cum, Joel, shit, I’m gonna cum-” you squeak, your entire body feeling flushed at his actions.
He pulls his finger out of you, his hand finding its rightful place perched against your hip as he pulls you impossibly closer once again, your ass nearly hanging off the bathroom counter, his grip the only thing keeping you up. Your arm loses its strength and you fall limp, your head thumping against the bathroom mirror, completely at the disposal of your man as he ravishes your sobbing pussy.
He lifts off your clit momentarily. “Give it t’me, sweet girl,” he tells you in a frenzy. His mouth is on you again, his tongue going straight to your hole—his tongue pushes inside of you as much as he can, his face pulled tightly against you. He begins moving, advancing his tongue in and out as you mindlessly begin grinding against face. With every upward push of your hip, his nose nudges at your clit and the pure ecstasy that washes through you is evident in the way you’re practically mewling above him, your obscene moans and gasps enough to make Joel’s hips thrust into nothing on their own accord in an attempt to seek some kind of relief.
More arousal pours from you, and Joel is quick to drink it up. You can feel the way his tongue flexes as he gulps, and fuck, that is what sends you reeling. You yank onto his hair tighter, driving your hips into his face at a ravenous pace—practically fucking his face—and then it hits you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as your back arches in this awkward angle, your orgasm hits you hard. It’s without warning, heart-pounding, toe-curling, addicting, and everything Joel.
Your lips are babbling nothing coherent, the occasional drop of his name escaping your mouth as he continues to fuck you through your high. He’s moving much slower now, much more precise—as if he’s doing this solely for his benefit now, not yours. Which, you don’t mind. Even as you start to slip into overstimulating territory, you don’t want him to stop.
You’d lay at his mercy for him to use you in any way he pleases if it meant you got to experience what it means to be loved by a man like Joel. With him, it’s all or none—none of that half in, half out bullshit. No, when Joel loves, he loves hard, and it’s evident in everything he does for you. Especially when it comes to your pleasure.
A particular lick to your clit causes you to yelp out in a pleasurable pain, so Joel finally rises again, kissing your spent cunt one last time before he pulls you up, rubbing up and down your spine to ease the uncomfortable position you were in.
“You okay?” Joel asks, slight concern and slight amusement on his features as he looks at your face. Pure bliss and contentment fills your features; he can still see the fog clearing from your head.
“Yeah,” you mutter softly, a lazy grin plastered on your cheeks as you look up at his shiny face. Weakly, you bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you. He takes the hint, and he bends down, letting your lips meet in a soft yet enthusiastic embrace. You love the way you taste, especially when it comes from his mouth.
Pulling away breathless, both your and Joel’s eyes are aflame again.
“Don’t shave, baby.”
“I won’t, darlin’.”
You kiss him once more before he wraps your legs around his waist and carries you back to bed.
You were wrong. It’s going to be a busy day after all.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope it made your private parts tingle you enjoyed💚 If you’d like to be notified for upcoming fics, follow my notif blog!
@pedrostories
#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#fic#smut fic#one shot#pedrostories#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut
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headspace | rafe cameron
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
summary when rafe hasn't seen you in twenty-four hours, he comes over to your house to check on you.
reader type academic weapon, burnout from studying (me), anxious, cries from being overwhelmed and pushes people away when busy
content (1.0k words) fluff, suggestive tone near the end, rafe trying to be a good boyfriend, math (yuck!)
credit inspired by this post by @winterrrnight (definitely check out her stuff!! 💘)
zya's notes was this purely self-indulgent? maybe. but it was a good writing break for me before i get back to linear algebra myself.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚
"What are you doing here?" You accuse, opening your bedroom door to discover your boyfriend standing behind it.
"I'm here to see you." Rafe says, taking in your appearance. You're wearing a borrowed tee of his, the name of his fraternity plastered in Greek letters, with shorts that's barely seen under the long material. "I've been texting you all day."
"You have?" You ask, your voice softening from the sharp undertone of your accusation. You're just so tired. "My phone's been on DND."
"Why?" He lets out a dry chuckle. He doesn't like the fact that you’ve been ignoring him. "You fuckin' someone?"
That earns him a scowl and Rafe knows he messed up when you pull on the doorknob, closing the limited space that allows him to see and enter your bedroom. "I'm not in the mood, Rafe. How'd you get in?"
He swallows hard. "Your mom let me in."
"She's home?" Your brows furrow together. You've lost track of time. You've been so busy that you didn't even hear your parents coming back from work. "Shit, what time is it?"
You abandon your post at the entryway and search for your phone in the messy covers of your bed. When you check the time, your heart drops. It's nearing midnight.
Rafe quietly slips into your room with his hands in his pockets and searches the place. He admits the first signs he looked for was the presence of another man. That you, in the twenty-four hours since he last saw you, have decided that he wasn't enough and that you found someone else. Instead, what he uncovers is your textbooks sprawled all over the floor, crinkled up sheets of papers surrounding your trashcan and your laptop and tablet propped on your desk with mathematical symbols and equations on the screen.
You weren't out finding his replacement. You were studying.
Your heart is racing, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn't even realize Rafe slipped to your side till his hand catches your wrist and pulls your attention away from your darkened phone screen.
"Hey." Rafe whispers, noticing the panic on your features. "Have you been studying all day? When was the last time you ate?"
Momentarily drawn away from your thoughts, you search your brain for an answer only to recall a distant memory of some yogurt and granola.
"I don't know." You admit. Your chest tightening at the look of concern that flashes across his face. "I can't think about that right now."
"You can't think about food?" He repeats, incredulous. "You're the one who's always trying to get me to try new places."
He was trying to make you laugh, relax, but all it does is set your lips into a flat line. He really is not living up to the role of good boyfriend right now.
"I have a huge exam coming up in two days and I still don't understand a single concept. And it's midnight." You explain, your breathing growing more rapidly as the realization dawns on you. "I shouldn't have gone out with you yesterday, I knew that, but I went when I should’ve stayed in—"
"Hey, hey." He shushes you, his hands sliding up to your shoulders. He knows you're about to descend into a spiral right now. He can't let it happen. "Look at me."
You do.
"It's going to be okay. You're a smart girl, you're going to figure it out."
You shake your head, not believing him, to the point that you're pushing away from his touch, reeling back as if you don't deserve his comfort. "No, Rafe, it's not. It's worth 20% of my grade and I can't recall a single thing. I've been studying all day and I feel like I'm about to go insane because I don't get it. I have never not gotten something this bad before."
You can't stop the tears from welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. First and foremost, you can't believe you're crying over math right now but the emotions are too strong to ignore—you feel like you're about to combust.
"Baby." Rafe begins softly, taking a step forward and pulling you back in. You try to resist but his grip is too strong and you like being in his embrace. Even if you don't deserve it. "Take a breath. Come on, let's take a break."
"I can't." Your voice cracks, a tear falling down your cheek and wetting his shirt. "I actually think I'm going to fail and it scares me."
Rafe knows you always cared about your academics. Way more than he does. But, it's one of the things he admires about you. That fact that you're so smart, that you manage to fall for a guy like him. He doesn't know of any way to help in that department, but fuck if he isn't going to try.
"Alright, how about this?" Rafe pulls apart, the loss of touch causes you to whimper, but his hand tucks under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his. "We're going to get somethin' to eat. Any place you want, I don't care how far, and I'll drive."
You open your mouth to counter but he cuts you off. "Then, we're going to come back here and I'll help you study. All night if I have to. We're going to figure this out together, okay?"
The plan sounds appealing but you're still hesitant. "You don't know anything about linear algebra."
"Fuck, baby, you can teach me." He states, causing a small smile to rise on your lips. That makes him proud. "Isn't that the best way to learn? When the student become the teacher?"
"Are you saying you're my teacher?" You tilt your head, teasing him. He loves that you're coming to yourself again.
He lowers himself to your level, stopping next to the shell of your ear. "I'm about to teach you a lesson if you don't get a move on." He murmurs, lightly slapping your ass and releasing you in one-go. You let out a little yelp, jumping back.
He tips his head to your closet. "Get change. We got shit to do."
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#obx#rafe cameron x female reader#outer banks#rafe blurb#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fluff#obx fluff#academic weapon!reader
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love's possessing me ⋆⭒˚｡⋆
ur fav tropes (with variations) + microtropes
⇴ person a + person b are both looking for each other, and they wander all around the place until they finally meet in the middle, where they both crash into each other
⇴ enemies to lovers (kind of) because they're in opposite factions that feud. until one day they run into each other on accident, immediately want to kill the other, and get trapped together. slowly, they discover that their own factions are awful, and they must work together to stop injustice (mk storyline!!!)
⇴ super serious and put together b turns into pure mush at the sight of a. i'm talking the brain stopped functioning call 911 bc we think they suffered brain damage. no they're just in love with person a.
⇴ having their own secret code. whether it be hand signs behind their backs, secret looks, or secret touches—as long as it's a secret then i will eat it up.
⇴ getting so tired that person b falls and person a has to catch them. person b ends up laying their head on person a's shoulder, and person a is now stuck with person b
⇴ "i'm not falling in love" and they fall the hardest (idc how used it is i will eat it up until i die)
⇴ person b admiring how person a brightens up any room when they get excited. "the look of love" as some would call it
⇴ two people that help each other heal. they've both had rough pasts, and when they meet each other—initially they hate it but—things start to mend (hometown cha cha cha anyone???)
⇴ banter and teasing at first meeting, but the more they get to know each other, the more they begin to connect.
⇴ person a + person b fighting over who has to sleep on the couch (they're staying at the other person's house), until they both agree on sleeping in the same bed together
⇴ friends to lovers but the other party did not consider them friends. (yikesssss)
⇴ "you lied to me! you kept lying straight to my face! and you expect me to forgive you?" "what are you talking about?! did you never get my letter?" "what letter?" (oh ur cooked)
⇴ "you deserve better than me." "that's not your decision to make, that's mine."
⇴ person a literally thinking they're the worst person in the world, and then there's person b, who can fight through the darkness and find the light
⇴ "you wouldn't understand!" "then tell me. i just want to listen."
⇴ person a's overworking themselves, so person b has to manually close their computer and put away their work and force them to sleep
⇴ person a stays up for person b to get home, but falls asleep. person b takes a ton of photos of them and then carries them to bed (and joins them later snuggling them ofc)
hey guys! keyotos here. this is a little out of my lane but i created this post for my writing event on my writing blog. but anyone else, feel free to use these and lmk if u guys like content similar to this!
#keyotosprompts#fluff prompts ⋆˚✿˖°#angst prompts ⋆⑅˚₊#writeblr#writing#writing prompts#otp prompts#otp writing#imagine your otp#otp prompt#prompts#story prompt#creative writing#dialogue prompts#writing inspiration#keyotos 1k event
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