#rotating these boys in my mind over and over
Note
umemiya is such a sweet big brother type of character i feel he's a BIG family man so imagine the sort of thoughts that would be thunk when he sees his s/o taking care of the younger furin members/children in general.. 👉👈 could be both nsfw and sfw too hehe
eeeee an ume ask! tysm anon. of course, i live to provide for the ume girlies too. him being a huge family guy is making me sweat a lil. hoooooo- 🥹
thinking about being fresh into a relationship with ume and him… realizing some things way too soon.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : breeding breeding BREEDING. breeder ballz ume. imagined sexual scenarios. general seggs.
NSFW under the cut. +18 stuff. MDNI, pookie. sowwie. you know the drill.
just like most nights, you and the Furin boys congregate to the Pothos Café.
also just like most nights, you find yourself standing over the first years’ table, playfully nagging at sakura for getting scratched up after you just patched him up good yesterday.
ume, being the absolute best boyfriend that he is, he doesn’t look on in jealousy. hell. he’s smiling so stupidly that hiragi spares him a glance and grins at him.
“take a picture it lasts longer,” hiragi teases, taking a sip from his black coffee, nudging ume out of his love induced stupor.
“can you blame me though? I mean, look at them,” he sighs wistfully, motioning to your table. hiragi follows his gaze.
you’re still there, fighting and giggling with a now red sakura, desperately trying to reach him to clean his wounds. it’s absolute chaos but seeing you getting along with the furin members and doting on them like your own siblings is only making ume fall for you even harder.
how his heart swoons at the thought of having you be a permanent fixture to his found family. how he wants to get married to you one day, to take care of a family of your own. “she’d be such a good mother to my kids,” he thinks. but before he realizes he was thinking out loud, he slowly turns to a smirking hiragi. “hm? say whatnow?” hiragi prods.
Pause.
‘she’d be such a good mother to my kids,’ he finally manages to think silently. he rotates that thought around in his mind like a puzzle, panicking inwardly. isn’t it a bit too soon to think of those things? right? I mean, you just got into a relationship with him after being friends for years — can’t be, right? to save face, he only chuckles, waving hiragi off with a limp hand.
“it’s a grown up thought. you wouldn’t get it.” he teases. but damn. just looking at you from across the café right now’s stirring a different type of feeling within him.
he finds you again in his thoughts that night in his room, your tight cunt is in the form of his fist. your name falling from his lips as he pumps on his length. his eyebrows are knit together so tightly, his eyes closed, imagining you laid out on his bed, pussy dripping with his cum. if he can’t have you the way he wants right now, he’ll just have to put his mind to work.
he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder as he slides in for the nth time that night in his thoughts, the wet squelch ever audible. he’s reaching you deeper in this position now, eager to shoot more of his load as close to your womb as possible — overload it, even. it spills, drips down onto his bedsheets but he doesn’t care.
“y-you’re gonna be such a great mother,” you hear him groan. you’re way too fucked out to respond while his eyes are raking down your naked form, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust. sweaty and panting, you reach down to rub at your clit and he bites back a moan at the added sensation. you’re tightening up around him. his fat breeder balls slap against your ass. it’s fucking amazing how endless his stamina is. you can only let out a weak whimper in response.
some days, he makes love to you so gently in his mind, taking his sweet time to bring you the pleasure you so deserve. pressing gentle kisses along your legs, your belly, your chest.
but lately, he’s been wanting to fold you over and fuck you senselessly, fucking his cum deeper inside of you. it’s downright nasty, rough—but can you blame him?
he needs to fucking breed you.
“gonna fill you up, baby. gonna put a baby in ya-“ he reaches down to cup your cheek in his hand. you instinctively lean into his touch and he swears his heart skips a beat. “y’want that? all plump with our kid inside of you. gonna look even more beautiful-“ he chuckles, ramming harder into you. his grip tightens around your leg, a pattern of crescents litter your soft flesh as he keeps a steady grip using it as leverage to fuck deeper.
you feel a tight coil in your belly, wanting to cum again on his thick, thick breeder cock. your fingers fly to the sheets below you, gripping so desperately with your head buried into the pillow beside you. moans and screams muffled by the saliva-soaked material.
“that’s right, sweetheart. cum. cum with me. f-fuuugh-!” a groan leaves your boyfriend’s lips as he feverishly rubs at your clit, bringing you to cum with him. a mixture of his juices and yours dribble down his balls and down your thighs, soaking the mattress further.
-
his toes curl and his back arches away from his bed as he pumps his cock desperately, your name escaping his lips unbidden in pants and whimpers. his cum squirts far, even reaching his cheek and his pillow.
“fuuuuck,” he whispers to himself, sitting up from his bed to wipe himself up, already dreading the clean up process.
but his doorknob turns with a gentle knock on his door.
you catch him looking like a deer in headlights, cock still in hand and cum smearing his uniform and cheek.
smirking, you step inside his room slowly, eyeing him down with a blush creeping up your neck.
“I’d be a ‘great mother’, huh?”
the door closes with a click behind you.
shit.
౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩
a/n: 😮💨 gotta love me some desperate ume.
#windbreaker#wind breaker#windbreaker x reader#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker smut#wind breaker smut#hajime umemiya x reader#umemiya x reader#umemiya hajime x reader#umemiya smut#winbre smut#ume <3#bibi spicy asks#bibi spicy yaps#yummy yummy ume
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I know | Megumi x Reader Ft. Gojo
Request: Megumi and the reader no longer know how to meet on the sly without looking too suspicious, but Megumi adamantly refuses to let Gojo know about their relationship. What if the reader is a student from Kyoto and everything happens during the exchange event? And, conveniently, Megumi doesn't know that there are cameras installed throughout the forest monitored by the teachers.
Pairing: Implied!Megumi x Fem!Reader; platonic Gojo/Megumi
Content Warning: Fluff, main focus is Gojo and Megumi, Megumi is a moody teen
For @yaninnaacu
Satoru likes to tease people. For his own entertainment and to try to build friendships with them. It also didn’t hurt if, in the end, his actions made their lives a little better and brought some happiness to them. A small laugh in a harsh world like this could mean a lot, the right push could change someone’s entire outlook.
So, he likes to play the fool, try to get people to let their guard down so he could wiggle in through an unknown crack and maybe make their world a little easier to breathe in and it wouldn't be a lie to say his own as well.
This holds doubly true for one precious student in particular.
“You seem excited. Ready for the big exchange event?”
Megumi stops his stretching, rotates his neck a few times to get out the last of the cricks, before turning to face him. The training grounds are empty tonight, save for the two them, and Satoru has never seen Megumi this interested in training.
“Not particularly.”
He says that but the Megumi that Satoru knows would never be this determined. Megumi may not have realized it but Satoru has been watching him train ever since he came back to the school. He hasn’t had much time to watch over the other students since training Itadori, but he knows that they’ve been making strides. Megumi included.
“I heard about what happened with Aoi,” Satoru says, poking around in the younger boy’s wounds to see if he can find the reason for this sudden burst of passion. “I thought you’d be interested in fighting him.”
“I’m over it.”
“Really?” Satoru says with a laugh. He has no reason not to believe Megumi, but he still has the suspicion it might be a little deeper than that. “Something has to be on your mind. You’re not normally this energetic.”
He racks his mind, trying to find the last time he remembers the kid having any sort of pep to his step so to speak. He’s always been a bit…restrained except when—
“Oh.”
Gojo smiles.
“I remember now.” Satoru chuckles lowly and dares to pat the boy on the shoulder. It’s a little harder than he was aiming for and Megumi jerks forward with a scowl. “It’s because your girlfriend is coming. Her clan enrolled her into Kyoto, right?”
If there is one thing about Megumi, it’s that he doesn’t change one bit with age. That glare is still just as scary as it was when he was five.
“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Megumi corrects, his eyes downcast. “We’re…friends.”
“Still!?” Satoru really, really doesn’t mean to sound insensitive but he is honestly surprised. Megumi always treated you politely and with more regard than others. Granted that bar was so low that people in hell could trip on it but to Satoru it was noticeable that Megumi held some type of soft spot for you. Satoru clears his throat to try to regain his composure and hopefully stop Megumi from stabbing him with his eyes. “Ya’know events like these provide the perfect opportunity to impress someone; show them what you’re made of.”
Satoru means it. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn’t think you’d be adverse to giving Megumi a chance if Megumi would only give himself the chance first.
“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
“Don’t be that way,” he says, extending his arms out in an effort to offer his time to his little student. “How about you train with me one more time before the event?”
“No thanks,” he disagrees immediately, and Satoru deflates over the fact that Megumi didn’t even stop to think about it before grabbing his pack and walking away.
Megumi isn’t willing to take that step yet, he guesses.
The morning of the Goodwill Event comes faster than most. The teams set off while Satoru and the other teachers find a cozy room to set up in and watch the festivities. Everything seems to be going well so far with the teams fighting and breaking off in different directions.
It isn’t long after when Satoru picks out one student from Kyoto different from the others. Satoru could tell that the other students were aiming to pick each other off one by one, and he had his ideas on why that was the case. However, the crow focused on you noticed you weaving through the forest, ignoring the other students in the vicinity, as you made your way to a very specific destination based on your speed and concise path.
That is until you’re stopped by one of the curses released into the area.
“Utahime, it looks like your little busy bee is engaged in battle with a curse.”
The other teacher doesn’t turn her direction, focusing on another screen.
“Fushiguro is on a direct path towards the fight as well.”
Satoru raises his eyebrows, his blindfold widening with the strain. Sure enough, the two of you collide on both screens, and it isn’t but a matter of seconds to take out the curse together. It isn’t unusual for the two schools to fight together; after all, the rules did state that exorcising curses was the top priority. Next, would be—
“Now, what will they do.” Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Utahime as she brings a hand to her mouth and mutters behind it. “Normally, I’d have no doubts that she can beat him. However, given the terrain, she’s at a disadvantage.”
Satoru hums to himself, wondering the exact same thing. The two of you should be pretty evenly matched in this situation; but as he watches the screen, he notices that neither of you look interested in fighting.
In fact, Megumi is touching you, hand crossing over your face and moving your head around. Satoru can barely make out the sight of blood on your face with the screen this zoomed out but it doesn’t matter as Megumi wipes it off. There’s only a small moment where Megumi lets his forehead press against yours as he cups your cheeks.
Gojo raises his blindfold over one of his eyes, just to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. Surely, he is when Megumi briefly kisses you. He can barely contain his laughter. He knew it! There was no way you two weren’t dating!
“Stop talking to yourself, 'hime, and look.”
Utahime looks back up at the screen, her face scrunching. “Are they?”
“I knew it,” Gojo repeats his thoughts. This time he does laugh as he kicks up his feet and throws his hands behind his head.
“What are they saying?”
“I never took you for a voyeur.”
“Will you shut up!” she says before glaring back at the screen. Her eyes search out for Megumi, who has already headed out of this broadcast area to the other. “Where is he going?”
“Looks like he’s headed straight to Kamo. I can’t imagine him smooth-talking the information out of her but there it is. My students really do take after me. I’m so proud.”
“You’re insufferable,” Utahime replies, scoffs, then returns to watching the battles unfold.
After the events of the Goodwill Event and the chaos of that Special Grade intruding on the event, Satoru takes the time to check on all the students injured during the fight. He makes his last stop Megumi, who had spent the longest time getting the spores taken out of his stomach before being patched up by Ieiri.
With his hand on the door handle, Satoru stops outside the door to his room. He can sense two people’s energies from behind the wall, one from Megumi and the other from…oh…looks like someone came to comfort Megumi before he could get the chance.
The words from behind the door are low.
How are you feeling? Does it hurt?
Satoru laughs to himself when Megumi obviously tells you to stop mothering him and that you’re worrying too much. He doesn’t know why the little guy still has such a hard time letting someone care about him, but it comforts him to know that you’re not willing to accept it as he hears a harsh “stop being stubborn and let me see.”
He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when he presses on the door too hard. The door squeaks inward causing him to tumble in a little clumsily on his tall limbs and for you two to pop up like spooked deer.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he dismisses clumsily – caught red handed. “I was coming to check on my favorite student, but it looks like his girlfriend is already taking good care of him.”
It’s adorable how your eyes widen and your mouth gapes as you sputter out an incoherent excuse. “No, I was just uh—” your fluster only increases when you finally realize you’re still holding the edge of his shirt in your hand while his hand is gripped on your wrist obviously midway in stopping you. You aggressively push his shirt back to him, making him hiss as you tap his stomach. “This is a misunderstanding, sensei.”
“It’s alright,” Satoru says, raising his palms and flattening them to let you know it’s fine to calm down. “I already know. No need to pretend.”
“How do you—”
“Funny thing about the event,” he starts, taking one long step in the room to the nearest chair. He spins the chair around, sitting in it backwards with his legs hugging the chair and his chin rested on the curve of the back. “Teachers keep a close eye on the students, accessing their battle prowess and team strategies. It just so happens that to do that we need visuals. Mei Mei’s crows…recording devices…cameras…yeah I don’t think there’s many blind spots to miss any battles or when a pair of students want some alone time together.”
Backing away from Megumi, you place your hands in your hands and bow your head towards him. “Sensei, we didn’t mean to do anything against conduct. I just…wanted to help Megumi and the vesse—Itadori.”
“I’m not lecturing you, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Satoru tells you, not that he minds having someone who gives him a little respect around him. “I want to give you my blessing.”
Megumi is the first to object, his nose stiff and scrunched as he bares his teeth at Satoru, mostly in surprise. “No one needs your blessing, and you’re not my parent.”
“Ouch. So touchy,” Satoru remarks, his smile stretching as he glances back over to you. It’s cute how he gets so worked up over something so small, well, he guesses young love isn’t so small, and he can’t help the little urge he has to tease him. “He’s so grouchy. Honestly, you’re way too good for him.”
Megumi hisses. “Get. Out.”
“No, it’s okay,” you say with a smile, stand, and gently press your hand to Megumi’s shoulder. “I should get going. I’ll come check on you later, Megumi.”
You make a beeline to the door, pausing only to give a short bow.
“Good night, sensei.”
“Good night,” Satoru waves casually, as if he didn’t know that bow just now was to hide your flustered face as you scurry out the room. “She ran off…Cute.” Despite your actions being endearing, the same couldn’t be said for the side-eye he was receiving from the dark-haired boy. “Don’t look at me that way. How come you didn’t want to tell me?”
“Because you’d act exactly like that,” being the answer.
“Okay, okay. You’re not completely wrong,” he agrees. He willingly fell into Megumi’s irritation, riding the waves of it to hopefully end up on a small island where forgiveness was waiting.
Megumi didn’t give him that.
“Didn’t I tell you to get out already? I’m recovering.”
Satoru thinks if Megumi has the energy to keep up his attitude then that must mean he’s doing well, which is good given the nature of his wounds from earlier. Satisfied, Satoru decides to give his charge some peace.
“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about you lying to your teacher later.”
He doesn’t give any mind to the growl Megumi gives him or when the boy ignores his wave by adjusting his gaze to the flowers on the nightstand.
Satoru would lie to say that attitude doesn’t hurt sometimes, but that’s okay. Even if Megumi was distant about it, even if he still didn’t want to give in and accept the fact that Satoru very much cares about him, you care about him as do his other classmates.
If Megumi could remember to accept that and to allow the rest of you to hold onto him and learn to hold onto you in return, then he’d be alright.
So, Satoru stops at the door, because he just has to make sure that Megumi doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Satoru sighs when he doesn’t receive a response. “You should treat her well. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“I know,” he reassures him bluntly.
“You can always ask me for anything,” he offers, without the bravado and grandeur, and he lays himself out, extends an invisible hand for Megumi to reach towards, just as he always has whether the boy wanted it or not.
And Megumi falters, if only for a brief second, he lets his eyes meet Satoru’s a bit more softly, with less caution, and his voice has lost all the bite that was there moments ago.
“…I know.”
Megumi forces his eyes back down and refuses to look at him. It reminds him of the kid who let his guard down enough to fall asleep next to him for the first time many years ago.
“Good talk then!” he remarks with a thumbs up and a laugh. Otherwise, he might not keep his composure that the warm feeling coating his being makes. “Make sure to get some sleep. We want you well rested for tomorrow’s events.”
Satoru doesn’t expect a good night as he grabs the door but he doesn’t expect Megumi to call out to him either.
"Hey."
It’s with a tinge to his ears that Megumi finally looks at him again.
“...Thanks.”
#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk x reader#megumi fluff#dad gojo#gojo fluff#megumi and gojo
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commission wip // oh my GOD i love drawing men
#my art#wip#artists on tumblr#dnd#ttrpg#rotating these boys in my mind over and over#i love when clients drop fruit off at my door
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thank god im not normal about rinzler
#putting him in situations#people say rotating him in my mind#but i'm throwing him under the bus#he is getting run over by a horse drawn carriage#i am giving him hope love and joy and then taking it away from him#rinz my little guy#my son and boy and also my little plaything to poke and prod at#gives you boyfriends#takes them away#ahhhh i love him#rinz#i need to find those old files full of stuff i wrote for him
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Thinking of Ash..
#luly talks#literally not even having proper thoughts just. rotating him in my mind until he gets motion sickness <333#no but i fuckig adore this man so much i want to put him inside a flask and shake him very hard#and i also want to feed him and tuck him in bed and kiss him goodnight#nearly misspelled tuck but y'all know i want to do tjat too though thats beside the point now#i literally just laying down here losing gmy mind over this white boy i fucking ljve him sm 🤦😭🥺💞#literally so insane for him my god
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i want to write fic so much but i have no time :(
#especially the line cook nicky/lingerie model joe au that i constantly rotate and shake in my mind#recently mary and i were saying wouldn't it be funny if joe and nicky in that au bonded over being into dilfs and i cant stop thinking abt#it#also nickys myriad of tattoos.....#'sweet boy'
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I smoked away my brain..(plug!k.choso) ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚
❄️UP ON MY GUMS , (I THINK THEY GOIN NUMB!)
now playing: demons- a$ap rocky
cw: plug!choso / drug dealer!choso, soft dom!choso, fem!reader, dubcon (kinda; sex under the influence), car sex, praising, riding, pussydrunk chosooo!, plot(kinda?), unprotected sex, creampie ₊˚ෆ₊
synopsis: it’s a friday night after work, you finally have the weekend off! stressed, you decide to call your plug, choso. you met him through one of your closest co-workers, yuiji after finding out he had a brother, since then, I guess you can say that you became choso's favorite customer — ★ (intended lowercase)
levy's note⭒⊹ ࣪ ˖: not my best work (i wrote this while i was high) :( but the show must go on. i had the idea to add visual links but i didn't know if people would be cool wit that, so lmk! tyy :) *there may be spelling errors,etc*
╰⟢ it was a late friday night and you didn’t have work tomorrow, so what did u do? called choso, your plug of course. though he was your drug dealer, you knew him a little bit more than his other customers, might even say, you got special treatment. choso was always laid back, he hated people in his business so not many people knew much about him, you wouldn’t have met him if it weren't for yuiji.
when he arrived, you stood outside the car door , just talking for a moment before he asked if you wanted to chill for a bit, suggesting you smoke a few blunts and talk…as you know, he always enjoyed your company.
“so how you been, ma?” he asks, passing you the blunt as he fights a grin asking you the question. taking it from his hand, you take a pull before answering, “ tired, work has been stressing me out lately, but i’m doing okay” you flash him a small smile before taking another pull from the blunt. “you've been staying after hours, right?” he laughed a little, you could tell he was already buzzed. “you stalking me?” you ask, keeping up the light mood. passing the blunt back to him, your body began to feel heavy.
“nahh, yuiji told me. the boy never shuts up about you, he’s worried bout you”, he says nonchalantly, taking another hit from the blunt. “you gotta take it easy for realll” his words slowing down a little. you could feel your head start to spin as the car became filled with more and more smoke, making your brain blank a little. “i’m doing fine though! just make sure you tell him to not worry when you get back” you laugh a little at the fact that yuiji worried about you and told his brother. choso takes a few pulls before outing the blunt. “you ain’t fine, you just said you was stressed” his words slur a little, the bud getting to his head. “ know i had smoke with you real quick, mama” he says with a grin on his face, pulling out another pre-rolled blunt, passing it to you with his lighter.
“being generous tonight, cho?” you smile at him, lighting the next blunt. “ you said you were stressed…you know i gotchu.” he says looking at you with a soft expression, making eye contact you try to avert your eyes. though choso was your friend’s brother you couldn’t help but admit he was so fucking hot. he was the quiet type, never spoke too much about himself or his life, he was a chill type of guy. that's what made you take interest in him, he was a mystery, really.
you continue to spend the night just talking, getting things off your mind. choso was always a good listener and it seemed like he loved to listen to you talk. you could sometimes feel the way his eyes are glued to your lips as you're talking…or when he thinks you're not looking, you could feel the way his low eyes trace your figure as you tell him about what's going on. your mind gets more and more intoxicated as the rotation continues several times, somehow he’s still going, waiting for you to tap out or break the box.
it's getting later as you both continue to talk, rotation going back forth as well, reminiscing about the past you both giggle and laugh. the euphoric feeling takes over your body, you haven’t felt this high in a really long time, you almost feel yourself twitching. choso lets out a soft laugh before passing the blunt back to you, his eyes low and red. “hmmph, cho, you’re not tapping out yet?” you pout giving him a playful hit on his arm before taking the blunt from his slender fingers. “think you could out smoke me, baby?” his tone lowers, a grin plastered on his face, laying back in his seat he watches as you look surprised at the name he called you.
“of course i can!” you reply quickly with a smile on your face. “what you suggestin’ , girl? we try?” he says, his words slow and slurred, looking up at you making eye contact with you.
you tried to avoid his eyes as you took another hit from the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how hot he looked when he was high, you thought maybe shit was just getting to your head.
“why you keep lookin’ away from me, ma?” he couldn’t help but laugh a little, clearly intoxicated. he passes you another blunt again with his lighter, willing to give into your little game. you kill off the blunt before looking at him, taking the next blunt from him to light , he couldn't help but smile. you could tell choso was on a different planet at the moment but you both felt the tension. “ you're gonna regret this, baby. you can’t out-smoke me” his tone was lower than before. you laugh, exhaling before passing it back to him.” you said you were being generous tonight, right cho?” you tease him, thinking that he’ll tap out sooner or later. the rotation continued.
and somehow, you find yourself in the backseat of choso’s car, the two front seats pushed back, making enough space for you to be perfectly sat on top of him. one hand on your hips, gripping them firmly. His shirt and your clothes are discarded and thrown onto the dashboard of the car and on the car floor. your chest pressed against his as he has one hand harshly holding down your hips on top of him, and the other around your neck. smashing his lips onto yours as the hand on your neck slightly tightened as it guided you to keep up with how he was moving.
his kisses become sloppier by the minute as you grant his tongue access to yours, before he pulls away, loosening the grip on your neck and allowing you to catch your breath. “this is what ya’ get, baby” he groans, his gaze focused on the way your body looked as you were on top of him, trying to catch your breath. you couldn’t help but take a minute to breathe, his hands traveling to your lower body. his two large hands on your hips, gripping them firmly, slightly pushing your clothed cunt against his tightening bulge, his jeans unbuckled & pushed down far enough to reveal the wet spot forming in his boxers..“cmonn, please help me, baby” choso whined, guiding your hips to grind against his bulge through your soaked panties. . “choso, you’re just really high right now, relax” you pat his head before looking down at him, your hands on his shoulders.
he groans, throwing his head back before pulling you closer to his chest. “fuck, i’m so impatient, girl” he whines, burying his face into your neck. one of the hands-on your hips now placed on ur neck, you almost gasp at the feeling of the slightly tight grip on your neck “cho.. take it easy on me” you choke out trying to keep yourself composed as you could feel how hard the poor boy was under you.
planting wet kisses and leaving deep shades of red and purple on your neck, you bite your tongue to hold back the small yelps that almost escape your lips each time you feel his teeth gently sink into the sensitive spots of your neck
poor thing, he couldn’t help but think about how badly he wanted to stuff your tight cunt. his head spinning and low eyes making it worse, he needed it.
“please let me fuck you, baby” he whines into your neck, he couldn’t take it anymore. he barely waits for you to nod before choso let’s out a soft growl, growing needier by the moment, one of his hands moving away from your hips. slowly moving down to your panties.
he brushes his thumb over your clit, “just the tip baby, I promise” he whines, looking up at you with his low red eyes, moving your panties to the side , “promise??” you move one of your hands down to his erection, freeing them from his boxers. “promise, doll face” he says, lining himself up with you, his hands digging into your soft hips.
you choke back a moan as the tip of his cock enters your soaking cunt. a loud whimper escapes his lips as he throws his head back. he couldn’t take it , your tight cunt was squeezing his leaking tip. he wanted to see how you’d take him sooo bad.
“fuck- i’m s-sorry ma but-“ he manages to say through his sped up breathing before roughly pushing your hips down, your cunt stretching around him as he throws his head back in pleasure. “chosoo, you p-promised” you moan loudly. “sorry baby, take it for me… please?” he almost finds himself begging.
his rough hands hold your body up, rutting his hips into you at a slow but steady pace, allowing you to get used to the feeling, kissing your cervix each time he comes back down. bouncing yourself back on him, one of his hands cup your face forcing you to look at him with your teary eyes.
he couldn’t help himself from taking in every part of you. he loved watching the way you tried to hide the way your facial expression changed each time his tip hit the right spot. admiring the pretty sounds you made for him and only him to hear. he loved knowing that he was the one relieving your stress.
““fuckkk .. you move your hips so well. keep riding me s-so fucking good.” he moans loudly before pulling you closer to him. you could swear his voice was louder than yours but he just couldn’t help it.
you feel the tears well up in your eyes as his pace begins to quicken, pounding into you, the vibrations riding along your sensitive clit making you moan louder with pleasure. “-- ngh! feels good .. s-so good,” you babble, your body getting tired, you lean on his chest for more support.
your nails digging into his back, the pain almost giving him more energy, he pounds into you harder making the sounds you were making impossible to suppress. you feel the knots in your stomach tighten.
“c-cumming—m’ gonna c-cum mmph!!” you whine,
“ cmon baby,, cum on my dick m’ almost there” he groans in your ear as you grip his shoulders tighter. you feel a euphoric wave overtake your body as he continues to chase his high, fucking you through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking as he overstimulates your weak spot.
“fuckfuckfuckfuck!--- p-please take it, princess. m’ right there” he’s at the point of tears. your vision is blurry as you watch as he desperately fucks into you. you weakly push yourself back against him, attempting to help him.
“i’m cumming, p-please don’t stop” he whines loudly as he continued to fuck into you before feeling his dick twitch inside of you, his breathing became heavier. he buries his face into your neck, whimpering as he paints your tight gummy walls white, riding out his high.
he lifts his head, face stained with tears, he looks at you with low eyes, trying to catch his breath.
“ think ya got one more fa’ me, princess?”
#gojo smut#jjk hcs#sukuna smut#jjk smut#choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#kazutora smut#jjk lemon#jjk nanami#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk geto#jjk gojo#jjk imagines#jjk choso#choso kamo#choso my beloved#choso x reader#choso x y/n#jjk yuuji
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15 with Eddie? :)
i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3
15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."
warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact
pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader
wc: 2.9k+
join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character
The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene.
It’s nice — it’s serene.
You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.
But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.
It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.
“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.
You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with.
“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.”
“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.
He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.
“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene.
You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”
He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.
It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates his left dimple.
He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.
“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?”
The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings.
You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.
“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.”
He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours.
You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.
The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him.
“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.”
Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before.
It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck.
The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.
A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park.
Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you.
Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.
“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.
His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”
“Just like that.”
For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually.
Eventually. There’s no rush.
Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”
“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.”
The night before, he would have teased your desperation.
But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting.
He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions.
Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further.
But today? In this moment? The two of you have time.
A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs.
When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls.
You need him closer.
“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.”
The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.”
You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion.
His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.”
His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis.
You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun.
And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.
“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance.
He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.
Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.
When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.”
Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it.
He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair.
And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process.
You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.
And just as he knows you, you know him.
You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.
Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.
“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue.
His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had.
Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.
“I love you more.”
You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.
But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.
He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually.
The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air.
Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.
Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips.
And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.
“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.”
You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter.
“Look at me when you cum.”
He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his.
It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.
He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other.
You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be.
Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones.
There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you.
“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.
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#ghost's stories#smutty party#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#i just really like the idea of waking up to eddie#especially like this#i wrote this half asleep so it might not be the best my brain wasn't really working#i just needed to write it out before work and before i got out of bed#the run on sentences in this one are strong
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everybody’s talkin’ up a storm (act like they don’t notice)
summary: The one where the boys don’t know that Eddie Munson is dating the pretty assistant librarian that always helps them out. Dustin has a crush on her. Mike thinks it’s fake. Erica just wants to get home to watch Thundercats.
“Uh, Eddie?” Lucas started, voice small. “Do you have someone over?”
Eddie blinked. “Uh. Just my girlfriend,” he said flippantly, tossing himself onto the sofa and taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Keep it down for a while, would ya? She had a long night.”
There was silence.
“Your what?”
warnings: none! wholesome fluff here lmao. a lot of d&d references -- curse of strahd is a banger
“You kids okay?” you asked, setting down the collection of Tolkien books they’d recalled from the front desk. “Fresh out of the returns bin, I thought I’d better bring them over here before I reshelved.”
“Thanks,” Lucas breathed, grabbing the top one from the pile and hauling it open. He’d always liked you. You’d started as assistant librarian two years ago, and had always had a soft spot for them, wheeling them straight to the fantasy section when they’d stumbled in as wide-eyed kids on their first day.
“Now, what’s all this about?” you asked, leaning over to read Dustin’s notes. “Book report? I didn’t think Fellowship was on the syllabus.” You pressed one manicured nail to the paper. “You’ve spelled Lothlorien wrong, honey.”
“You’ve read The Lord of the Rings?” Dustin demanded, his hair flouncing as he peered up at you from his book cavern. “Really? What’s your favourite book? Favourite character?”
You laughed. “The Two Towers, and Faramir,” you said, and chewed on the edge of your thumb. “Pippin is a close second, though. Are you guys just in a book club?” Your eyes lit up as you took a seat next to them, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Can I join?”
“It’s not a book club,” Mike said, and chewed his mouth a moment, obviously debating admitting something. “We’re doing research for a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.”
You stared at them. “You’re in Hellfire?” you asked, and then pulled their notes over to you, nodding at the numbers you saw. “Ah. That makes sense then. Yikes. Five charisma, Lucas, really?”
Lucas yanked his notes back as Dustin’s mouth fell open a little bit more. If that were possible. “You play D&D?” he asked, voice going shrill.
“Dustin, honey, this is a library,” you said, pressing your index finger to your mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You play D&D? You know about Hellfire?”
You snorted, and twisted in the seat, looking very unlike the prim and proper librarian you had been moments ago. The way you were lounging sparked something in Lucas’ brain, something familiar, but he pushed it down. “Do I know about Hellfire,” you muttered, shaking your head. “My brother was the first DM.”
That caused an absolute uproar. Their pencils flew about the room, papers shoving, and you tried to no avail to calm them down. You could feel the gaze of Mrs. Leibniz, head librarian, burning into the back of your skull.
“Boys, boys,” you said, waving your hands. “Okay, Jesus Chr– yikes,” you corrected lamely. “One at a time, one at a time.”
“What did you play?” Mike asked.
“Do you still play?” That was Lucas.
“Do you want to come to Hellfire?” Dustin, sweetly, hopefully.
You smiled at them, twirling a pencil as you cast your mind back. “God, back in the day? I think my character in my Hellfire days, before I was a DM, was an Elven rogue,” you said, nodding as it came back to you. “Tinuviel, of the Woodland Realm. She was such a knockoff Eowyn it’s kind of a wonder Tolkien never sued. I do still play, a little, when my brother has the time to do a oneshot. I can’t come to Hellfire, it clashes with my shifts. Satisfied?”
The boys nodded, and you smiled at them firmly, glancing down at a sheet of paper. There was a beat of silence, and then –
“Wait, sorry, did you say you DM?” Mike said, twisting in his seat to look at you.
You shrugged. “We had a rotating DM base back then,” you said, scratching the back of your head. Again, the motion pinged something in Lucas’ skull, but he wasn’t sure what. “Once my brother left, I shared the year with Eddie Munson – you guys must know Eddie, right?”
They nodded. You leaned forward conspiratorially.
“I made him cry when he faced down Strahd.”
“No way,” Lucas said, rocking back in his chair. Your hand shot out, slamming it back onto four feet before he would tumble. “Shit, I mean, dang. Sorry. But you made him cry?”
You grinned, remembering it fondly. “Yeah,” you said, and Mike saw your librarian persona totally slip away in exchange for a totally feral smile. “He didn’t speak to me for a weak after he died. God. Good times.”
“You’re crazy,” Dustin said, pointing a pencil at you, “and you’re everything we need.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“It’s simple,” he said, pointing at the paper. “You can help us outwit Eddie. Run circles around him. You’ve almost definitely played Rahasia before. He won’t know what hit him!”
You wrinkled your nose. “Dustin, honey, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of D&D?” you asked, and he shrugged. “You’re better off without me, kids. Just–” You stopped, looking up at them from under your eyelashes. “Does Eddie still do that thing when he DMs, where he, like,” you chewed your bottom lip, “starts singing?”
“I hate the singing,” Mike groaned, and Lucas nodded in agreement. “He writes all these songs! And then he sings them! Sometimes with guitar!”
“It’s great for worldbuilding,” Lucas said quickly, “but. It does go on for a bit.”
You bit back a smile. “Some things never change.”
Dustin shot you a quick grin. “We’re actually going to Hellfire after school today,” he said, “if you want to come with us? Break out that old Elf rogue.”
You shook your head. “I’m a Halfling now,” you said, quirking up a smile. “Rindi, of the Shire. Master thief. Besides, it’d clash with my shifts. And then where would I be? You don’t think you guys are my only kids, do you?”
With that, you stood up, leaning over to whisper, “If you’re playing Rahasia, make sure you’ve got a bone dagger on you,” before moving back to the reshelving trolley. “Good luck, boys! Tell Eddie I say hi!”
++
“Hey Eddie,” Dustin chirped as he headed into Hellfire. “We bumped into an old friend of yours at lunch.”
He quirked an eyebrow, munching on a sandwich from his backpack. “Uh-huh?” Eddie said, not really listening to him. “And?”
Dustin shrugged, and looked at Eddie slyly. “Tinuviel says hi.”
Eddie blinked, and swung his leg down from where he was sprawled across the chair. “You met my girl!” he crowed, throwing the sandwich down onto the table, sending bits of lettuce careening across the minifigures. “She’s a spitfire, that one.”
“She’s the assistant librarian,” Mike supplied helpfully, and Eddie shot him a weird look.
“I know,” he responded, furrowing his brows. “We’re literally on the same campus, like, all the time.”
Mike flushed. That much was obvious.
“Anyway, enough chitty-chatty,” Eddie said, and leant over the gameboard. “You last left Rahasia in the dark of the night, exhausted and weary from a skirmish…”
++
“Hi,” Dustin said to you, meekly. You peered over at him from the books you were checking back in, locked up in a cavernous stack of AP Calculus texts and editions of Hamlet. “This is. This is kind of a weird question. You don’t have to say yes.”
You shoved some of the books out of the way to look at him, and pressed your glasses up your nose. “Hey, everything okay?” you asked, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Take deep breaths, Dustin.”
He shook his hair out. “Well,” he said, taking his hat off and holding it in front of him like a Regency era gentleman. “It’s my birthday next Saturday–”
“Happy birthday,” you said automatically, and he shot you a nervous smile.
“I was wondering. Well, we were wondering. Mike, Lucas, and me,” he clarified, “if you’d like to come over and play a oneshot campaign with us? I’m DMing for my birthday, and it’s my first time, and I’m kind of nervous. It’d be really cool to have more people in the party.”
You winced. “Dustin, honey,” you said, and pulled another returned copy of Hamlet toward you. “That’s not really appropriate. I’m a teacher here.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re an assistant librarian,” he countered. “Plus, you know what you’re doing! It’ll be fun!”
You scratched the side of your nose, glancing down and away from him. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. It’s against policy, I can’t just show up. I could get into a lot of trouble.” You shot him a smile, unhappy with how crushed he seemed to be. “Look, look, tell you what,” you said, pressing your thumb to your mouth and chewing at the nail as you scrawled out your shift timings. “If you meet me in the library on the days you don’t have Hellfire, I’ll help you with your oneshot, okay?”
He brightened. “I get to hang out with you?”
You blinked stupidly. “Uh. Yeah, I guess,” you offered, and shoved the paper toward him. “I’m kind of rusty, but I’ll see what I can do. How many are in the party?”
“The usual Hellfire guys,” he said, “so four. Oh, and Lucas’ sister. So five,” Dustin said, and you nodded, wheels in your brain turning as you tried to think of a good campaign for them that’d be finished in time. “You’d really help me with this?”
You grinned, and nudged his elbow with your pen. “Once in Hellfire, always in Hellfire, kiddo,” you said, and he shoved his bookbag down on the table. “Hey!”
“You’re free now,” he said, pointing at the sheet, and started pulling reams of paper from his bag. “I was thinking, like, a desert campaign. You know. Caravans and camels, that sort of thing.”
You bit back a fond smile, and watched as he laid out the bare bones of his first ever Dungeon Master session.
“There you are,” said a voice, after nearly half an hour of you helping Dustin build the stats of his Lizardfolk NPC, and you grinned at the sight of Eddie Munson standing near the desk. “Dude, we thought you died. You’re gonna miss lunch. Heya, teech,” he added, winking at you.
You smiled up at him beatifically, and pushed Dustin’s papers back toward him. “Hey, honey,” you said to Eddie, and glanced back at your desk. “You’re gonna do great, Dustin. Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re a natural.”
“Can I come back?” Dustin said quickly, and Eddie glanced down at him in surprise. “Like. To work on the campaign. With you. Here. Or other places. So it’s perfect. You know.” He smiled again, and you sighed, rubbing your temples.
“Of course you can, Dustin,” you said, and looked up at Eddie above Dustin’s head. “He wants me to help build out his birthday campaign.”
Eddie grinned, and clapped his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “And you’re enlisting my girl Tinuviel?” he asked, and Dustin smiled nervously up at him. “There have never been safer hands, my friend. This will be a campaign to remember.”
With one hand on Dustin’s head, Eddie wheeled him out of the room, before turning around surreptitiously to blow a kiss at you. You jumped up from the desk slightly to catch it, nuzzling it softly, before biting down viciously at the fake kiss. Eddie gasped in horror, and shielded his eyes, parting his hands slightly to shoot you a wink before he vanished out the door.
It was a few days of this, of Dustin appearing in the library at lunch with an apple for you in one hand and a binder in the other, as the deadline of his birthday loomed. You helped him take detailed note of his characters – who did what voices, where did people stay, what was a catchphrase you could use to slip into character. He was sweet. You understood why Eddie was so fond of him.
“You’re gonna do great,” you told Dustin on the Friday, as he was packing his things up. “Seriously. I wasn’t this prepared for my first campaign. Just remember to keep your character sheets–”
“Right where I can find them,” Dustin agreed, zipping up his backpack. “Thank you. I’m really sorry you can’t come.”
You shrugged. “Policy is policy,” you said, and ruffled his hair. “Knock ‘em dead, champ.”
++
“What do you mean we can’t use the room?” Dustin demanded, staring up at the custodian. “I booked it today! I need it!”
The custodian shrugged, grimacing as he turned back to the door. “Pipe’s faulty in there,” he said, scratching under his chin. “We need to seal the area. Should be fine in the morning.” He paused. “You got stuff in there? We can get it out before it gets too wet.”
Dustin groaned. “Party’s off,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Unless you want to play an underwater level.”
Mike sighed. The rest of Hellfire were gathered around the door, looking at it despondently. After a long moment of silence, Eddie turned to them, looking more serious than he ever had before.
“Okay,” he said. “We can use my trailer–” They chorused a cheer, but he held up a hand. “Best behaviour, okay? We spent all week cleaning that thing up, and I can actually see my reflection in the countertops now, so if any of you fuck my hard work up I’ll rip your tiny little balls off.” He paused, and looked at Erica. “Or, uh. Lady balls.”
“Freak,” said Erica.
They piled into Eddie’s van, Dustin calling shotgun, as they careened down the road to Eddie’s trailer park. The windows were open to the trailer, and laundry was hung on the line, Eddie snatching a shirt from it as they walked in. Lucas stared at the pairs of bras dangling from the line. Hold the fucking phone.
“Yeesh, yeesh, keep it down,” Eddie said, settling the kids down at his trestle table. “God, I never should’ve let you guys drink all that Coke. Sugar is bad for you, you know?”
“You’re smoking,” Erica said bluntly, and Eddie nodded sagely.
“That’s because I’m grown,” he told her. “I can do what I like.”
Inside the trailer, Lucas froze. There was a pair of shoes by the door, heeled, small. He blinked. He knew those shoes from somewhere. “Uh, Eddie?” he started, voice small. “Do you have someone over?”
Eddie blinked. “Uh. Just my girlfriend,” he said flippantly, tossing himself onto the sofa and taking a slow drag of his cigarette. “Keep it down for a while, would ya? She had a long night.”
There was silence.
“Your what?” Mike practically yelled, Dustin and Lucas joining. “Since when have you had a girlfriend? Why have you never brought her to Hellfire? What the hell–”
“What the hell is going on?”
Their heads snapped up to see you, standing blearily in Eddie’s doorway and rubbing at one eye with the cuff of Eddie’s shirt, hanging loose over your frame. Dustin screamed. You flinched, before pulling your hand from your face to stare at the group. “Uh.”
There was a long pause.
“You’re not wearing pants,” Erica said, helpfully, and you vanished back into the room with a squeak, before reappearing in a pair of shorts.
“Eddie,” you hissed, and your boyfriend looked at you askance. “Why in the goddamn – cover your ears,” you barked at the kids, “everloving fuck are the kids in the house?”
“That’s not the important question,” Dustin hissed. “What are you doing in Eddie’s trailer?”
Eddie froze, his head darting between the two of you like a lost puppy. “Dude,” Eddie said, looking at Dustin in confusion. “She lives here.”
“She’s your girlfriend?!” Mike demanded, staring at you in shock. You blinked the sleep blearily from your eyes, and head over to the counter, pouring instant coffee into a mug while shooting daggers at Eddie – he was mouthing, sorry sorry sorry. “The assistant librarian?”
“Uh. Yeah?” Eddie said, his eyes jumping from each of the kids’ expressions. “You guys didn’t know?”
“No, we did not know!” Dustin snapped, and you swallowed a tentative sip of coffee, coming out from the kitchen to stand by Eddie. “You never mentioned having a girlfriend!”
“I’m pretty sure I did,” Eddie said, turning around to look at you. You were unimpressed. “I’m literally always saying, I gotta go see my girl, or hey that’s my girl.”
“Oh,” Lucas said dumbly. “I thought that was about your guitar.”
You snorted so hard you felt the coffee shoot up your nose. Dustin looked crushed.
“My gui– You guys seriously think that looking like this, I hadn’t snatched up the prettiest girl in Hawkins High in my time?” Eddie demanded, tugging you by the beltloop of your shorts to come closer to him. “Guys. Come on. I was beating them off with a stick.”
Your hand settled in Eddie’s hair, sleep still making you hazy. “You asked me out fifteen times, Munson,” you muttered, and he swatted at your scratching fingers. “One time you even wrote me a song.”
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed.
“But– we never see you guys together,” Dustin said, voice going slightly shrill at the end. He was alternating between staring at you, and then at Eddie, and then at you, over and over that you thought he’d get motion sickness.
“I’m a librarian,” you said, not unkindly, coming to perch on the arm of the sofa as Eddie’s hand settling lazily across your thighs. “I can’t exactly come sit at the lunch table, Dustin.”
“That checks out,” Lucas muttered to Mike, who was still taking in the scene. “Like. Damn. Uh. Congrats, I guess?”
“Thank you,” Eddie said, sending you a genuinely happy smile before squeezing your thigh. “Sorry for the wakeup, Tinuviel. Hellfire flooded.”
You hissed sympathetically. “Yikes.”
“I’m sorry, this is great and all,” Erica said, and put her hands on her hips. “But are we ever gonna play this campaign? Because there’s an episode of Thundercats tonight, and I never miss Thundercats.”
You bite back a laugh, and disentangle yourself from Eddie. “You guys set up. I’ll –” You glanced back at the kitchen thoughtfully. “Dustin, sweetie, do you like cake?”
“Um.” Dustin blinked a few times. “Yeah?”
“Then happy birthday. I’ll bake you one.” You smiled sweetly as you headed into the kitchen portion of the trailer, sipping your coffee thoughtfully as you heard the boys start to interrogate Eddie about the relationship. “Oh, and Dustin?”
His head snapped up, sheepishly pulling away from where he was furtively whispering with your boyfriend. “Yes?”
You winked. “Save me a seat. Tinuviel’s coming out of the woodwork.”
++
(You and Eddie had met in middleschool, with his hair buzzed short and yours long enough to reach the small of your back. There was a copy of the Lord of the Rings that was two weeks overdue, after a lot of begging and pleading with Mrs Leibniz (Miss Franks, back then), she had finally released the culprit’s name to you.
You shoved Eddie in the playground and demanded he return the book, standing on top of the sandpit in a blaze of righteous fury.
Eddie asked you to be his girlfriend there and then.
It took three years, ten campaigns, and one drunken proposal after prom night for you to finally say yes.)
#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson x female original character#stranger things#guys something i wrong with me
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cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader
You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.
You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.
Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.
"Do you work tonight?" he asks.
You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.
"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."
The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.
Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.
It's teeth are extra sharp today.
"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."
A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.
"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."
The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.
"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."
You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.
"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.
"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"
"Tricked?" he scoffs.
"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."
Fingers squeeze at your hips.
"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."
“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”
He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.
“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."
He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."
This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.
"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."
The overhead fan whizzes.
"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"
Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.
You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.
Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."
That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.
"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.
"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."
You understand the implication.
"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.
"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."
Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.
Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.
But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.
"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.
"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."
He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.
"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.
The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.
"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.
"Yeah," he says, "You're right."
The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.
All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.
"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."
He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.
"Let me get you something to sleep in."
For now, it's enough.
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Lover, Please Stay
Astarion x F! Tav
(Pillow Talk part 2)
18+ complicated feelings, angst, jealousy, intimacy, talks of sex work, fingering (f!), oral (f!), forced orgasm (kinda), feral Astarion, tenderness
Tav keeping him at arms length, Astarion makes a plan to woo her back into his good graces. But his hunger, for her and her blood, proves distracting...
Masterlist, Part 1
-
True to her word, she was avoiding him.
Even leaving him at camp. He covered the sting like he always did.
"You doing all the work while I relax with a good book? Please, if you must twist my arm."
He hid the anxiety throttling him into a sultry smile. Waving goodbye to the retreating party with a wiggle of his fingers.
When they disappeared into the treeline, he turned with a scowl and pushed inside his tent. The hunger gnawing through him now in the forefront of his mind.
In avoiding him, she had inadvertently kept him from her neck.
Animal blood wasn't enough anymore. Sure technically it filled him, it did the job. But it was a meager substitution.
When her blood would burst into his mouth, it sent a crackling pleasure across the back of his skull. Sending fire in slow pulses as her blood pushed out into his veins. From his center ebbing out a warmth in rhythm to his swallowing. His cold body cracking apart with her molten river. It was a miracle he was able to stop that first night.
The bloodcall was a prickling hateful need, but the other need he felt towards her made him bristle more.
He couldn't stop thinking about the way they had crashed and smeared into each other. There was nothing practiced about it, nothing gained or lost. Just pulling mouths and pleading fingers and dizzy heat.
He felt his cock stir just from the memory and frowned.
This wouldn't do. He was too pent up, a dog in a kennel circling.
He would get back in her good graces, in one way or another.
When they had finally returned for the night, he feigned disinterest. Lounging back on a pillow outside of his tent, flicking the pages of one of his books with the tips of his fingers.
She wiggled out of her boots with adorable little grunts. Unlacing her bracers and beginning to lift up to the buckles on her breastplate.
"Here, let me." Gale stepped over, reaching for the buckles that sat on her sides.
"Oh! Thank you!" She chirped, lifting her arm to make way for his fingers, naturally let her hand fall on his shoulder.
"I guess it's only fair. You don't wear armor, so you have much less undressing to do." She hummed.
He saw the heat go to Gale's cheeks, clearing his throat.
"You know, I could continue to help you. In the future." He offered, a slight waver in his tone.
Astarion had stood before his mind had spoken to his feet. Striding over.
"Gale, dearest. You'll keep her here all night. Let faster fingers attend to our friend here."
Gale held his hands up in defeat good naturedly, but he saw a bite flash across his eyes.
A silent crackling energy passed between them.
"Our pale friend is right, I'd better return to the delectable meal I've been planning."
Gale stepped away, but not before squeezing her bicep, leaving a lingering touch there.
The wizard was lucky his blood was putrid.
Well, maybe he could still rip his throat out for fun.
As soon as Gale was out of earshot Tav sighed, speaking under her breath to him.
"Well, Gale wants to fuck me now too."
"Ah, you'll have to forgive the boy. I'm sure he hasn't seen such a ravishing creature before that dusty tower. Nothing but his hand and books."
Tav gasped, trying to kick him, but he slid away from her foot easily. His fingers snapping her buckles open with flourish.
"You're the devil." She chided, but he could see the smile on the corner of her lips.
"Devilishly handsome? I agree."
The last buckle free, he lifted the breastplate over her.
She moaned, rotating her shoulders in relief. Her undershirt sticking to her skin. The white fabric wet with her efforts.
He kept his eyes above collarbone with great effort. The outline of her full breasts in his peripheral.
"Thank you, my savior." She teased, sitting down to unbuckle from her shin guards.
He was hovering and she noticed, looking up at him expectantly.
"Darling, I couldn't help but wonder why you haven't been offering me your sweet neck."
She sat back up, hand resting on her thigh. Eyes searching his.
"Sorry, I didn't think you'd want to see me after the other night." She said plainly.
"But I guess I'm a service, after all." Said with impartial truth.
"Sure, here." She offered her wrist up to him.
He blinked, on the back foot again.
Like she had scooped into him and pulled the marrow of his person out. That uncanny ability to speak his thoughts through her mouth.
No, I'm the service. Not you, sweet girl.
"Let's wait, no reason to supp from you out in the open. With so many prying hungry eyes."
He trailed the backs of his fingers along the inside of her wrist as she lowered it.
"Meet me in my tent, okay?" He hushed, his voice coming out uncharacteristically soft.
"Of course, whatever you need." She smiled.
He felt like he needed to prove something to her, but what?
He rearranged the pillows for a third time. The candle lit canvas shroud of his tent draped in as much comfort as he could find. Or steal.
Blankets and plush pillows. Enchanted lights draped along the roof, a lavender candle burning on a plate.
He sighed, this was too much. He was being silly.
"May I come in?" She whispered outside of the closed flap.
"I'd like nothing more." He crooned, sitting as casually as he could manage.
She ducked in and blinked in surprise. Eyes trailing along.
"Wow, what's the occasion?" She started getting comfortable. Pulling the pins free from her hair and shaking it down her back. Leaving her shoes in a neat line at the entrance.
Something about seeing her like this again made his heart sing. That casual intimacy that he desired in the cradle of his tent.
She kneeled down across from him, pulling her collar away from her neck. Turning her head to the side, bending open for him.
He leaned forward and gathered her into his hands, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. Breathing in.
She could feel his need, touching his arm uncertainly.
"Are you okay, Star?" She hushed.
He slid his hand down her back, his eyes closed. Fingers mapping her into his memory.
"Just- just give me a moment." His voice coming out gravelly.
"Do you want me to get undressed?" She whispered, and he nodded into the side of her neck.
She pulled her sleep shirt over her head, his hands only leaving her to toss it far in the corner.
Sat in only the underclothes hugging her hips, she waited patiently as his eyes drank her.
The spread of her hips dipping into her waist. The round full of her breast. The soft curve of her stomach. An oil painting come to life.
"You're very comfortable in the nude." He teased, trying to jumble his thoughts back into his slack head.
"It takes practice." She smiled. "People usually don't want to see the wares stored away."
He could feel the confusion strike his face.
"What do you mean by that, darling?"
"Oh, I figured the others would have gossiped by now. Huh, good for them."
She flourished down her body. "This used to go to the highest bidder."
His hands slowed, pulling away.
"You were a sex worker?"
"What makes you think I'm not still one?" She winked, and he felt a hard shock of sudden recognition in her mannerisms. This was his playing field.
"Tav..." He paused, trying to wrestle his thoughts into a carefully picked set of kind words. She didn't need to know that part of his past yet. He could stand to pretend to be at least somewhat competent for a while longer.
"I get if that turns you off. We can go back to just feeding if you want."
"Well, what do you want?" He leaned his head, looking at her. Dead heart phantom hammering.
She seemed to consider it. "I think I like you, and I want to be near you. In whatever way that means to you."
He leaned forward, sliding on knees to reach her.
He laced his arm around her back, their lips hovered across one another. Her breath tickling his lips.
Sliding his hand down her front, he held her eyes.
A collective breath held between them, only broken as his fingers dipped into her heat.
Her eyes fluttered shut, hips tilting forward.
He pressed his forehead to hers as she rocked into him, rubbing her clit with his thumb.
She tried to reach for his trousers. He huffed out a soft no and led her hands to drape over his neck.
He looked at her with lidded eyes, pulsing his long fingers into her molten heat. Curving and catching the spongy wall.
She squirmed, gripping onto his thighs. One single breath passed between them. Speaking in panting and soft moans.
He pushed her onto her back, sliding down. His mouth coming down to lick in long stripes above his fingers.
She shuddered, head falling back. Gasping out little cries for him.
All of her sounds, her arching movements, wrapping around his mind in a haze.
He ground his erection into the bunched blankets on the tent floor.
His arousal a warm rhythm inside his body for once. The practiced working of his mouth finally put to a worthy effort.
He twisted his tongue into her, slurping and suckling. Free hand holding her in place as her hips tried to escape.
"Fuck," She hissed, gripping his hair. Legs starting to shake around his ears.
He moaned low and deep into her. His cock throbbing, hips fucking into the blankets.
"Oh fuck, Astarion. I'm-" But she was already rising off of the blankets, head wrenched back.
He followed her up, gripping her ass.
She squeaked out a few rising cries then fell apart in his hands. Tremoring rising up through her body, rippling outwards from where his mouth was still pulsing. Her head lolled, little jolts from her cunt as the creamy slick of her spend met his tongue. Lapping it in greedily.
He gasped. It rocketed against his skull like her blood. He needed more.
He hooked her thighs over his shoulders and dove back into her. Hungry. Messy. Uncontrolled. Completely cutting off his breath. He didn't need it anyway.
Her eyes shot open, moaning out.
"Oh Gods," She whimpered, bracing herself next to her head. Holding on as he took her apart.
He felt crazed, his hunger for her blood and the slick he pulled from her one and the same. The sounds coming from his lapping obscene.
Closing his eyes, he growled. Fingernails biting down into her ass. Saliva and slick dripping down his jaw.
One more hard swirling pull on her clit and she was shuddering hard, a strained moan of curses flowing from her lips. Eyes rolling back in her skull like marbles.
He yanked her towards him in anticipation, fingers rubbing hard into her clit encouragingly.
Her second wave of creamy slick met his tongue, so sweet and rich. Lighting his skull up in streaks of pleasure.
He pulled his weeping cock from his leathers and stroked with his slick soaked hand. Once, twice, and he was gone. Spurting thick ropes under his body, whimpering out pulsing cries as the pleasure wrenched out of him.
He lapped at her as long as she would allow, eventually gently pushing his head back.
"Gods below, Star. That was... that was heaven." She gasped.
He murmured in agreement, head falling into the inside of her thigh. Fingers trailing the silk of her side, the arch of her ribcage.
"Do you want me to stay?" She hushed, scratching lightly along his scalp.
He moaned softly, nodding into her.
"Come here to me." She purred, pulling him up her body. Resting his head against her chest.
The beat of her heart a steady tranquil drum. Her arms and legs tangled in his. He puddled into her, both of her hands scratching in slow lines along his skull.
For the first time in a long time, he fell into a heavy sleep.
The night passing dreamless.
~
#gale just like. i hate it here#astarion smut#astarion x tav#screenshot by @cheekylittlepupp#lyrics from: the garden - the crane wives
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@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" @thefreakandthehair
Eddie had developed a small obsession.
It wasn't in his usual realm of obsessions, no dragons or magic to speak of here. No, it existed in the same space as one of his other recent obsessions which was Hawkins Golden Boy, Steve Harrington.
This particular obsession started at one of the monster hunters alliance's movie nights. They'd started routinely going over to Harrington's house every Friday night, rotating which of the teens picked the movie. It helped, having something to look forward to every week.
Now November, the movie nights were just him and Steve, waiting patiently for their college bound friends to return over Christmas break. Eddie didn't mind, he learnt pretty quickly he and Steve had more in common than just the kids. Finding out Steve had seen all of the Star Wars movies would've put a younger Eddie in a coma.
But back to the obsession, it started so innocently, they were both sitting on the couch, slouched on either end, their usual positions, when Eddie had a random shiver. The weather had dipped as they crept towards winter and now that movie nights were at Steve's apartment not his old fancy house with central heating, it was a lot colder.
"Do you want a blanket?"
It had been such an innocent question, Eddie didn't know what he'd be getting into by accepting.
"That would be great, I forget this place's walls are as thin as the trailers."
Steve had gone to his room and returned with a thick woven blanket, large enough to stretch across both of them without them moving. That wasn't its only perk, the material was probably the softest thing Eddie had ever touched and it didn't hurt that it smelt like Steve. He felt warmer already the moment it touched him.
After that Steve would always have the blanket out once Eddie arrived, a few times Eddie even stayed over and slept with the blanket. He was pretty sure Steve must've taken it from his old house when he up and moved without warning over summer, but Eddie didn't want to mention it, Steve didn't like talking about it much.
The blanket felt like home. It also seemed to possess a magic power that meant Steve didn't mind tangling his legs with Eddie's underneath it as the movie played. Eddie had half a mind to ask to take it with him he loved it so much.
By Christmas though, their friends had returned. Tales of big cities and college life were told around the table as they had dinner together before the movie. Now all shoved onto the couch and armchair it wasn't as cold but Eddie still mourned not getting to have the blanket, and Steve so far away from him.
"Steve I'm cold, could you go get your blanket," Robin pouted part of the way into the film. Robin knew about the blanket? It must be from the Harrington's then, some fancy blanket that cost more than his trailer.
Steve glanced at Eddie so briefly he almost missed it before nodding and getting up to retrieve it. He placed the blanket over the three of them, Nancy and Jonathan seemed plenty warm cuddled in their position on the armchair.
"Ah I have missed this blanket, remind me why I can't steal it from you and take it back to my dorm?"
"Because then I'll be freezing on my bed without it, besides, if you'd waited you would know I made you your own for Christmas."
Robin's eyes lit up in joy while Eddie's widened in surprise now a million questions in his head. Made? Steve had made this blanket? Had made one for Robin too? And he didn't have another one on his bed, meaning Steve had willingly given him the only blanket when Eddie stayed over.
"You made this?" He couldn't help the burning question from tumbling from his lips. Steve looked shy now.
"Um yeah, my gran taught me how to knit years ago and helped me make this when I was younger."
Eddie had too many questions but they'd have to wait. A couple weeks later their friends gone again, movie night rolled around and Eddie found himself on Steve's couch once more.
"You always give me the blanket when I stay over."
Steve raised an eyebrow but let Eddie continue, "You only have this blanket and you let me have it, the one you made, even though you'll be cold."
A faint blush is gracing Steve's cheeks now, "Don't want you to be cold," he mumbled.
"Steve?" Eddie said, feeling brave, "Can I stay over tonight?"
"Of course Eds."
"Don't want you to be cold though, think we could share?"
There's a brightness in Steve's eyes as he understands, "Course Eds, wouldn't want you to be cold." Somewhere under the blanket, their hands met and maybe that obsession had a different word, love.
#lex getting back to back prompts lol#fluff#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#ficlet#steddielovemonth
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AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5k!!! Ok ok, hear me out on this request because I think it might make a good little fic. I can’t decide between Hesh or Price for this one but I got a general idea: stoned Hesh or Price. You know those videos of husbands waking up from surgery and not recognizing their wife right away but knowing they’re the most beautiful person in the world (something like this: https://youtu.be/kV8KyeApBJY). Well maybe it’s something like he got hurt from a mission (hurt enough to require drugs/anesthesia for the plot) but is recovering back at base and imagine their wife is their medic and she’s trying to update his team on how he’s recovering and you just got a stoned Hesh or Price completely hopped up on drugs following his injury, just fawning over her and he just goes bananas when she “reveals” they’re married. The team got a kick out of it
—Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞
You walked around the room, tidying up what you could if only for the simple fact that it could distract you from the unconscious body in the bed. Realistically as a medic, you knew he would be fine—he was in the best hands possible—but Hesh had a track record for being unpredictable.
He’d gotten into some trouble out in No Man’s Land again. Broken arm and ribs; a bullet through his thigh. He was so pumped full of medication and anesthetics from surgery that you doubted that he would be waking up soon.
But then again, Hesh was always surprising you. It was one of the reasons you’d married him, after all. Never a dull day.
Elias’s voice calls from the doorway.
“You’re going to fall over at this rate,” you blink quickly, turning with an extra blanket in hand to spread around your husband’s comatose state.
Your father-in-law has his arms crossed, and Logan slinks his way through the doorway with an arm looping your shoulders, a head pushed into your scalp silently. You sigh deeply, tension that you hadn’t realized was on your face lessening.
“Only if he keeps me from seeing those greens of his.”
Logan huffs a laugh, squeezing you as his father grunts—the stern man’s eyes softening in a way they only would for you and his boys.
“He’d be more worried about you than himself if you did. Put my mind at ease, okay?” Your eyes roll but you nod with a small smile. You don’t argue with his point in the slightest.
So, that was how you ended up here, in a seat by Hesh’s hospital bed—your hand in his and your head nodding back and forth with fatigue. Elias and Logan are casually playing a game of chess from across the room when David’s eyes flutter; his mouth releasing a low groan.
Your lids snap back, spine straightening, but before you can get a word out, your husband is pulling his hand from yours. His green eyes are loopy, pupils blown wide.
He mutters something under his breath, lips grimacing and face pulling in at the sight of you.
“Hesh?” The two men stand as you check his vitals, heart hammering until there’s nothing out of the ordinary and you can sit back down with a sigh and a relieved smile. “Take it easy, alright? You got out of surgery a little while ago—everyone’s here for you—”
“W…Where’s my wife?” His words slur, jaw loose as he rotates it; the unbroken arm with an IV chord stuck in it raises as jerky digits rub at his eyes. You’re left at a loss, blinking slowly in confusion before sharing looks with your in-laws. “No offense, Miss, you’re pretty and all, but…shit, why’s everything spinning?”
A hand covers your mouth, heated embarrassment lighting inside of your veins.
“Hesh, Sweetheart,” your arm reaches to the brunette, trying to grab his wrist that he weakly moves away.
“Stay away from me,” he grunts, head limply lulling on its pillow. “Thought I told you to keep it to yourself. My Wife’ll rip,” Hesh’s voice fizzles, a loud yawn peeling his bandaged face back, “you to pieces.” A pause. You hear Logan trying to hide his loud laughter behind his lips. “Did…the doctor send you?”
Your body turns to Elias, face beaming and expression exasperated.
“Now that he’s awake will you get the other three? It’ll be easier to give the news to all of you at once.”
“Already commed ‘em,” the man states, watching his eldest with a raised brow and a slow smirk. “Least we know he’s a loose cannon on anesthesia.”
Merrick, Keegan, and Ajax all file in, and as you continue to watch over a loopy Hesh, his small noises and babbling continue even when you give the breakdown of the patient sheet. You stand just shy of brushing the bed’s lower frame. You won’t lie and say it isn’t hilarious.
“He needs to keep out of the field for at least two and a half months, boys, and I’m not joking about that, alright?”
Your husband’s slow voice slashes through your speech, and the rest of the Ghosts snicker, sharing knowing looks as Hesh tries to lift the hand currently wrapped to his chest to keep it still. “You’re a real beautiful lady, Doll, y’know that? I’m sorry you like me so much, but I love my wife, you hear? Please don’t be angry with me.”
“Hesh, Darling,” you walk closer and bend down carefully. He blinked owlishly at you, finger coming up to poke at your cheek. Your hand grabs his as you hear Ajax make a quick remark to Keegan about the man being ‘totally whipped even when he’s high.’
“David, hey,” your voice prompts him to smile, perhaps now only realizing the familiarity of it. “I’m going to tell you something, hm?”
“Okay,” he watches, petting your neck with his thumb.
“I am your wife.” The man’s eyes widen comedically as everyone shares a long laugh with one another.
“No way,” Hesh breathes after a moment, awe-stricken. “Really?”
“Really.” There’s a moment of silence, and then the heart monitor begins to pick up its pace to a fast pound. Your face goes hot with love, and you bend your head forward in a long and honest laugh into his shoulder.
Green eyes shift to the men, and Hesh beams, cheeks red and heart racing as he slurs out, “This is my wife?!”
It was safe to say they were never going to let him forget about this.
#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#x female reader#call of duty x you#cod ghosts#cod ghosts x reader#call of duty: ghosts#call of duty ghosts#hesh walker x female reader#hesh walker x reader#david hesh walker#hesh walker#david walker#hesh x reader#david hesh walker x reader
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Rough Night In.
warnings : rough sex, swearing, degrading, breeding kink.
lowercase purposely!!
summary: chris sturniolo x reader smut (kinda rough!!)
it was a regular saturday night for you and the triplets. you were cooking dinner tonight, each day it would rotate between you and the four boys. you stood in the kitchen with your hair held high in a messy bun wearing nothing but booty shorts and a fresh love hoody. one of the perks of dating chris was an unlimited supply of his merch.
you called the boys over to the dinner table, immediately the sound of their footsteps flooded the house. each of them taking a seat around the table, chris eagerly sitting in the chair beside you.
“y/n, we’re thinking of going out tonight, to see a movie with some friends!” nick says while piping down his dinner.
“oh yeah, chris the big baby already told us he’s staying in, claims he’s sick.” says matt while rolling his ocean blue eyes.
you looked over at chris before answering, you slowly move his hand down to his thoughts causing his breath to hitch.
“i think i’ll stay in to guys, help look after chrissy” you giggled while stroking his crotch faster.
matt and nick nodded their heads in approval, oblivious to what was going on under the table, while getting up to put their plates away. you stayed seated while gently rubbing chris’ crotch. the thought of being seen by one of the others made it more arousing for you, however chris didn’t seem to agree.
——
half an hour had passed and the other two boys had finally left. chris was listening for the door and when he finally heard the faint sound of the engine starting he made he was over to you. you had been waiting for this, a night in with chris, alone. you could feel your pussy throb and your heart skip a beat as he planted a rough kiss on your neck.
“mm, you smell so good baby” chris murmured into your neck while caressing your hair.
“are you gonna take me downstairs or what?” you said seductively.
chris’ eyes lit up at the thought. he immediately grabbed your wrist and led you to his room.
——
with a swift movement from behind chris had you pinned to the bed, hard. confusion crossed your mind, was he mad, had you done something?
“chris, b-baby hurts.” you whimpered
“since you wanna act like a little slut at the dinner table this is what you get, touching my cock in-front of my brothers, dirty little slut” he almost barked while removing his shirt, exposing his perfect torso.
his once ocean eyes now clouded with lust, hunger. his rough words oddly turned you on, your lace panties now slick with your arousal.
“all fours” he demanded.
you obeyed, a smile painting your face as you felt his throbbing cock against your now bare ass. chris gripped your waist while spitting onto his fingers, he started tracing your entrance with his sloppy fingers.
“you like that my dirty little girl, hmm” he was almost purring.
you nodded frantically, almost begging for him to fill you. his hands followed up your waist to your chest, gripping your nipples harshly causing you to arch your back into him. a small whimper escaped your lips before he came crashing into you making you see stars.
“ngh- what about a c-condom!” you cried in between your pathetic whimpers.
“shh it’s okay baby, i want to see your pretty little pussy dripping with my cum.” chris said while thrusting harder.
you couldn’t do anything but scream, chris was going faster and harder with each thrust, your mind going fuzzy.
“s-so close” you barely said in a mess.
“mm, that’s my naughty little girl, so tight for me baby”
he kept going, groaning, you knew he was close.
the sound of wet skin slapping filled the room, sweat now dripping from your neck onto your spine. his thrusts became sloppier, he was almost there. his hand suddenly made its way around your throat, chocking you harshly. you were almost passed out when you felt the familiar feeling, his warm cum filling your tight little pussy, chris groaning while pulling out.
he turned you over into your back, his fingers trailing your entrance pushing his fluids back into you, almost making you cum again, you were still pulsing from seconds ago. he laid kisses into your throbbing clit and admired your open mouth, breathy moans with his eyes peeking through the brown locks glued to his forehead.
“that’s my sweet girl, taking me so well” he cooed while making his way up next to you, planting a soothing kiss on your forehead.
this is my first time publishing so i really hope you enjoyed!! you can make a request in the ask me part of my bio <33
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That Thing I Like
Masterlist Here
Word count: 2,100+
Synopsis: You are ships counselor to the Polar Tang. For the past four days, you had been called into Law’s office over the Den-Den transponder speakers. The crew assumes you two had began a relationship, but what actually occurs is far more intimate than any romantic encounter.
Themes: Law x gn!reader, platonic yearning for more, crying, angst, swearing, hurt with comfort, processing grief, professionalism and duty getting in the way.
Notes: @feral-artistry said she wanted some comforting Law. Man needs a hug. Go comfort your captain, he needs you. I hope you enjoy your gift!
Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity
Written with two songs in mind: Lora Lai Lo - Patty Gurdy, Baby Mine - Sharon Rooney
Fingertips brushing with the tanned pages of your novel, focussing on the cleverly articulated poetry depicted on the pages. You began blindly reaching in front of you, your index finger meeting with the ceramic edge of your rapidly cooling teacup.
Your eyes continued to mull the same sentence over and over again, the masterful penmanship scorching into your memory as you rose your cup to your lips. Halting, you narrowed your eyes on the final two words of the sentence: “My boy.” You spoke aloud those words in a hushed whisper, brow knit and focussed.
Finally raising the teacup to your lips, you choked on the fluid within. Where you expected to taste the bitter tang and subtle sweetness of liquorice tea, your palate was assaulted immediately by the overwhelming flavor of seawater.
“Damn it, Shachi!” you immediately yelled, placing down the cup loudly on your saucer. A loud gaggle of laughter had your eyes burning with a violent rage over the spine of your novel. The redhead smirked at you, his brother in arms, Penguin, clutching his own chest alongside grasping Shachi’s bicep.
“I couldn't not!” he confessed between cackles, “It was right there!” You shook your head at him, rising to your feet and readied yourself to berate your fellow Heart-Pirate crewman, only for the drone of your Captain to spark over the Den-Den speakers.
“Ships’ Counselor, to my office,” your anger immediately cooled, huffing away your exasperation with a puff of breath.
“Saved by the captain, as per usual, Orka,” you snarled at him. His smirk only widened as you shook off the flavor of seasoned water with a shrug of your shoulders and a rotation of your neck.
“Ooooh, Counselor to the Captain’s office,” Penguin taunted you with a higher pitch to his regular drone, “How many times does that make this week, hm Shach?”
“That makes the fourth day in a row, Pen,” Shachi taunted back. You placed your marker within the pages of your novel and tucked it within your satchel. Shaking your head at the both of them, you eyed them off cautiously.
“Four days of not so secret, secret meetings,” Penguin continued in his teasing tone, “What do you get up to in there? Want to share with your two bestest friends?”
“After that little stunt?” you quipped at him, gesturing to the ceramic teacup, “Absolutely not."
“It was just a little switch-e-roo,” Shachi chuckled, “A little switch up to make things interesting.”
“I will get you back for that little switch up, boys,” you threaten them with narrowed eyes and a wide smirk, “When you least expect it, I'll enact my revenge.” The seriousness in your tone had both men on edge beneath your icy tone.
“Jokes on you,” Penguin snarled your name in a hushed whisper, “I'm always on edge.”
“A terrible coping strategy, Pen,” you remark with a soft chuckle, “When you're ready to work through that, make an appointment with me, okay?” He hummed a soft acknowledgement at your comment, both men watching as you turned to make your way through the Polar Tang.
As you left the common area and wove your body down the hall, Shachi turned to Penguin and bumped his shoulder against his.
“You reckon Cap and Sel are a little friendly?” he asked his dark-haired crewmate.
“More than that, I think,” Penguin smirked in return, scrunching his nose up, “Why else would he call ‘em into the office so much?”
Both men looked at one another with a small shrug before returning to their own recreational activities in the mess hall, leaving thoughts of romantic dalliance between you and Law alone while their hobbies occupy them.
As soon as you knock, your practiced routine for the last few days has your momentum carrying you to the desk Law remained sat behind.
“Counselor,” Law addressed you with a soft nod.
“Captain,” you mirrored his expression with a nod of your own. Your soft, melancholy smile rose up to your lips.
“I need you to do that thing I like,” he confessed with an even tone. You shook your head, your brows furrowed to a low frown.
“Captain,” you begin, shaking your head, “This is the fourth day in a row that you've-.”
“-I need it,” he spoke over you, a small growl in his tone, “I need you to do it again.” You sighed in response, weaving your way over to his position behind the desk.
He swivelled his chair, his knees parted and hands gripping the denim over his thighs. His teeth clenched behind his tightly clamped lips, his brow deepening in a frown of his own.
“Are you certain?” you asked him, reaching out and smoothing your hands over his shoulders before cupping his chin beneath your fingertips.
“I know it's a request not common in your training,” he confessed, his inked fingertips tentatively and soothingly brushing over your own, “And it's well out of your job description and comfort zone. But I need you to do this for me.”
You smile softly at him, his eyelids falling into a cresent shape with his small smile. His hat lay askew on his desk, his documents all neatly compiled in a catalogued heap beside him.
“Alright, Captain,” you smiled at your captain, turning your hands and capturing his within your digits, “Let's go do that thing you like.”
You led Law by the hands, tugging at his wrists and slowly moved yourself to a seated position over the suade sofa in his office, patting the empty space beside you to indicate for Law to sit.
Immediately, he fell in a heaped mess beside you. His head hit your thighs, his face hidden against your stomach as your hands gently began caressing his hair. He lay himself down, tucking his lanky legs against his chest as you began the routine you had been practicing for the past four days.
“My boy, dry your eyes,” you sung melodically to him, your voice not professional by any means, but well enough to carry the simple melody. He immediately became transported back into a memory.
“Tomorrow will soar, as the dove flies,” you massaged his scalp, hands soothing over the unruly strands. He tucked his head further against your stomach, using your body as a shield to muffle any uncharacteristic whimpers from falling from his lips.
“You are loved from your head to your toes,” you continued, your own emotions almost betraying you as you felt his shoulders shuddering, “May my words spread light over woes.”
“For you are my best boy,” you repeated your lilted chorus, “My only boy.”
As your words hung thick in the air, you attempted to ignore the dampened streaks of fresh, hot tears soaking through your shirt. You knew Law needed to linger in this space, process this state of grief and use you as a lightning rod to draw in his thundering strike of raw emotion.
For the past four days, he needed a space to linger in his grief. When you noticed him making simple mistakes navigating the Polar Tang through still waters, you immediately set an appointment up with him to talk through it. It took you the first month to get him to open up, the following two to reassure him that nothing ever said here would leave.
It only took two months after that one to have him process his childhood with you there as an ear, a council and a guide to usher him through. You had become friends through this, sometimes using the opportunity to discuss hobbies and jokes. But lately, he would use your time together to remember all those lost to him.
For the past four days, that focus was on his mother.
After clutching against you within this state of vulnerability for several, you chose not to make a sound. Disguising your breath by taking lengthy inhales and exhales, your heart soared, and relief washed over you when you felt your captain match your intentional breaths.
“Thank you,” he whispered against your naval, withdrawing his face from your body and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You've done well,” you acknowledged him, withdrawing your hands from his hair as he moved to sit upright, “Less time than the last few sessions we've done this together.”
He hummed, his heart feeling lighter and less overcome beneath the strangling waves of oppressed sorrow. His eyes were red and glossy, the streaks of tears now drying on his cheeks.
“Do you want to talk about it this time, or do you want to leave it?” you offered him, feeling his bare grief still lingering, “We've spoken so much about Dressrosa, Corazon and Doflamingo. Do you want to tell me why this melody means so much to you?”
He sighed, his tattooed fingers drawing over his eyes as he scraped them over his cheeks and down to his whiskered chin.
“My mother sang that song to me every night,” he confessed in a voice just above a whisper, “She would change the lyrics for my sister when it was her turn. I would often catch her humming it when she thought nobody was around.”
You nodded along, ushering him to continue with your eyes supporting his release of pent up emotion.
“I was a child when my whole country perished with the poisoning, or the extermination,” he continued, a wave in his voice causing him to gulp back a dry lump forming, “I don't think I had the opportunity to process this before, and now that her birthday is coming up-...”
“...You miss them,” your hands subconsciously sought out his knee, giving the cap a gentle squeeze in acknowledging his emotions, “And there is nothing wrong with experiencing the gravity of such a loss well after experiencing it. You've been through so much, Captain.”
His hand reached down to cup yours over his knee, his head shaking a soft denial to your words.
“You likely think me weak,” he confessed with a dark smile, “You have the ability to dismiss me from duty and take command, should you no longer see me fit to lead.”
“For experiencing human emotions?” you quirk your brow up, a soft smile elevating to your lips, “Hardly a valid reason for mutiny, sir.”
He chuckled at your answer, his rare smile once again drawing over his face. The moment of the memory had left him once more, his mind now fully present beside you. Your smile was one he had seen a thousand times before, but this particular one penetrated his cold heart and swelled it with an engulfing warmth.
“I appreciate you so much, Counselor,” he admitted, his body moving against its will in a hypnotic trance as his forehead met with your own, “I will be forever grateful that Bepo convinced me that our crew needed one.”
“For what it's worth,” you whisper, closing your eyes and lingering against him, “I think you are an excellent captain,” you used your thumb to brush against his knuckles, “Your parents, your sister, your country, and Rosinante would be proud of the man you've become.”
Lingering against each other, Law fought back the urge flooding his chest to release more of his stress physically. He wanted to lunge forward and press himself against you, cry into you and show his appreciation with embracing you.
But he remembered who he was, where he was, who you were, and who you were to him. You were an equal, a colleague, a friend, and someone who acts as both therapist and deepest confidant to him as your superior.
He could never betray that to seek out a physical dalliance, no matter how much his body screamed at him to clutch against you.
You were plagued with a similar plight, desperately wanting to join your lips with Law’s and demonstrate how safe, secure, and loved he is with you. To become a person far greater than a mere colleague to him.
These past few months had drawn you both close - but these past few days had propelled you even closer. You could never betray your station and your standing as his confidante and counselor.
As the night lingered on, you both opted to remain like this for several moments: enjoying the soft, emotional touch and the world you had carved out behind the safety of the office door. Both yearning and craving the touch to deepen between you, like a swelling rush of water behind a rapidly caving dam wall.
You just needed one more, simple push before that wall would shatter for you to give into this craving. But stubourness, duty and your minds often stood in the way of you both giving in to he desires your heart screamed for.
#one piece#x reader#trafalgar law#Trafalgar Law x reader#op law#law x reader#law x you#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar one piece#trafalgar d law x reader#op law x reader
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` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ TWO HALVES OF ONE HEART.
﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚
PART 02 OF HEART AND MIND! READ PART 01 HERE.
PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.
WORD COUNT ⠆3,756 (well spent!)
ON ROTATION ⠆cheek to cheek by frank sinatra, head over heels by tears for fears, my heart it beats for you by grent perez, how deep is your love by bee gees.
CATEGORIES ⠆very fluffy!!! a long awaited lovers reunion!!!! the boys on crew being the biggest supporters as always, joyce being lovely, very comforting. loved how it came out... though i feel like it kinda dragged but i digress.
𝟒𝟏𝟏. a much needed reunion between two lovers.
you don’t think you’ve ever seen lake washington look so alive, there were swarms of crowds surrounding the lake. the day was sunny and bright with a slight wind whistling through the air.
full of supporters and spectators from both cal and washington alone. your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you followed followed your parents through the crowd but ultimately separating from them as you made your way to the viewing deck. the thought of seeing don again— being in his presence again made you so excited yet so nervous. you were elated he made the JV rowing team, knowing how effortlessly he knew how to do things; basically being good at anything. you had a fairly good spot over looking the water; not realizing it’s a student only viewing deck (did those even exist..). you looked for a spot not to close to the front in case don ends up seeing you, you didn’t want to throw him off from their first race of the season. as you were getting settled in your spot you accidentally bump into someone.
“oh! i am so sorry!” you apologize, pushing your hair away from crowding your face as you watch the girl in front of you stumble a bit.
“no! no it’s totally okay.” a blonde with short hair instantly assures, noticing as her eyes scanning over you.“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you around school before.” she adds, you found it bit odd she would say such a thing.
“ i don’t actually go here.” you affirmed, clearing your throat a bit. still confused on her sudden interrogation, she nods. taking in the newfound information before continuing.
“where do you attend?” you hesitate, suddenly noticing how everyone on the deck had UW flags and you didn’t have that, instead a berkeley flag that someone had given you after recognizing you from school. if she had seen the flag tucked behind you it would’ve given you away immediately.
“cal.” a slight cough out of the school name; there was no way in lying to her, suddenly feeling small amongst the groups of UW students. the short haired girl piques at your response “cal as in cal state berkeley— the rowing team the boys are going against?” you nod for her in clarification “how come you’re rooting for the opposite team?” fully facing you now. before you can tell her your reason she interrupts saying how rude it was for her to bombard you without asking your name, you weren’t offend at all and introduced yourself instantly as she does the same immediately after.
“my boyfriend is on the team actually.” you felt awkward telling her but also relieved, you don’t remember the last time you outright told anyone you had a boyfriend. ”oh really! who?” it crosses in joyce’s mind that it could be joe but she knows joe would never keep something like this from her and there was a massively rare chance it would be him so her mind briefs through the rest of the roaster. though she only knew their faces and not their names.
“don, don hume. you know him?” joyce ponders for a bit, the name sounding very familiar.
“i think joe mentioned him before…” you assume ‘joe’ is on the rowing team with don, further assuming she was here to root for joe but would’t say that of course… insisting she’s here rooting for everyone, not just joe.
“its okay, he’s not much of a talker anyways.” laughing it off, don wasn’t someone to put himself in the lime light, finding comfort alone or with you. a part of you hoping he’s getting along well with his teammates as he isnt the easiest to get along with because of how reserved he could be… you just want him to be happy.
“does he know you’re here?” you shake your head in response but mention to her that you sent him a letter recently entailing that you were coming over to visit but it was safe to assume he hadn;t gotten it since he hadn’t called (knowing he only calls when he needs to respond immediately). an idea suddenly sparks in your new friends mind. she tells you there is supposed to be a party if the huskies win and she insists you surprise him then, it was such a spur of the moment proposition you accepted. she squeals excitedly, grasping your arm. she was so happy to meet someone new who wasn’t from washington, excited to make your acquaintance as she stays close to you, cheering on the boys.
the race was nothing short of a spectacle, no one was sure that the huskies would win but they had defied odds and won with an astounding outcome. you see dons face as their boat pushes to the finish line, time seems to slow when your eyes land on him. his hair is shorter and face slimmer from the last time you saw him, your heart swells seeing him so happy from winning, splashing the water and celebrating with the rest of the team. you don’t think you’ve seen anything more attractive, his muscles taught and defined in that fitting uniform he wore. a faint blush creeps up you neck as you watch his muscles flex under the sunlight, you couldn’t wait to be with him again, talk to him, be in his arms again. you eyes don’t leave him until joyce drags you away from the your spot, immediately talking your ear off about how well they did on the way to her dorm. don lingering in your mind the whole way.
the hall was loud and in high spirits after the win of the JV rowing team, don watches as george walks off hand and hand with a pretty brunette. sitting alone as the other guys sit in the paired tables in front of him, having their own conversations. don didn’t mind to be alone or away from the group; it would probably be expected of him to go off and talk to others but he really isn’t much of a talker and preferred to observe the scenes in front of him. he didn’t need to be apart of the fun to have fun- he was content knowing the guys were having a good time. it did get lonely at times though the guys kept him company and included him in conversation for a part but his mind kept lingering at the thought of you; being here with him— having fun of your own if you were here. he’s been thinking about you more lately, missing you more than he usually did. it was rough the first few months but he eventually got used to the fact that you weren’t around anymore and he had to carry on with his own life. its not to say he didn’t think of you at all; you were the muse of his dreams and he’d think about how you were sometimes and at times where he’s out, he’d something that reminds him of you. most of all, the jewelry you gifted him. he’d fidget with his ring and he’d think of you. ever since the night he told roger and bobby about you it feels like he’s back a year ago when you freshly left for california feeling incomplete without you, unbeknownst to when you’d retuen, wondering if you got his letter or if you wrote back to him.
your heart pounds in your chest as you walk with joyce towards the hall, her arm laced with yours. your heart races, full of emotion. memories of when you last saw don flooding your mind, you couldn’t wait to see him. you were nervous he wasn’t going to recognize you, it had been a year since you saw him and you weren’t sure if you look the same you did when you left, what if he didn’t feel the same way anymore after seeing you? what if he regrets waiting for you after a year of being apart? what if— as if she could sense your overwhelming nerves, joyce immediately assures you— insisting that don is gonna be elated to see you, especially after a big win. what worried you was the fact that you had sent him a letter, unveiling your news that you were coming up to washington. you were unsure if he’s received it yet and it drags your heart at the thought of him reading the letter and not caring; content with having a life of his own away from you. he would he awaiting your arrival wouldn’t he? looking for you. but there was no news up the grapevine about him from the passing hours as you got ready in joyce’s dorm but if you didn’t find out for yourself you’d never know. you can hear the music grow louder as you get closer, excitement bubbles as joyce squeals skipping towards the hall with you in tow, already feeling the warmth from the hall.
at the doorway is a tall blonde with his eyes fixed on your short haired friend, you look at her and see a faint flush on her cheeks. unlocking your arms she walks a few steps ahead greeting the man with a hug. standing a bit awkwardly before them as they speak, a mere moment later she turns around gesturing you over. from there you meet joe, the man she mentioned earlier during your first interaction. she introduces you fondly as a new friend, locking arms as she leans against you. she continues to tell joe how you’re visiting from california and she’s love to introduce you to the boys. joe has a hesitant look on his face, as much as he wasn’t opposed to the idea, he knew the boys would eat up a pretty face like yours without the slightest bit of hesitation. he wasn’t convinced from her persuasion but the look she gives him? how could he say no to her? heaving a small sigh, the blonde nods. further exchanging pleasantries as he tries to get to know you a bit better before gesturing for the two of you to walk inside, him following behind. you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness as you walk into the bustling room, eyes instinctively scanning for don. your heart skips a beat when you finally spot him, sitting alone at a table. he looks even more handsome than you remember, you’ve never seen him in a suit before and he looks better than you could ever imagine. breath catching in your throat as you realize this is actually happening, the man you've missed so dearly, the one you've been yearning for since you moved to california. you’re so close to being in his arms again, in his presence again. before you can take in more of the lively atmosphere, joyce is dragging you to the refreshment table. you weren’t sure what she had in mind, she hadn’t told you anything beforehand and you were dying to know. she guiltily admits to you how unsure she is about her plan, though there wasn’t much to it in the first place. you immediately reassure her that whatever happens, you appreciate her effort, without her your surprise reunion with your lover could have gone completely differently.
don doesn’t know why or how but he feels as if you’re here, somewhere (his spidey senses are tingling) especially when joe had them gathered so closely, being sandwiched between roger and bobby as they all ask whats going on. joe casually relays that joyce had someone she wanted to introduce to them, making the advanced effort to note that the person is a girl. the group suddenly becomes boisterous and are quick to fix their suits and appearances. don has half the mind to entertain the thought the the person is you, though he thinks you would come straight to him if that were the case, so he makes himself comfortable sat down with his hands in his pockets awaiting their new guest- ready to watch what’s to come.
your heart flutters with nerves, as joyce tries are best to calm you down. there was only so much she could stall and soon joe approaches the two of you stating how impatient and restless the guys were, your mind is in a frenzy now trying to imagine how seeing him again will be, what you’ll say, how he’ll react. it overwhelmed you so, wringing hands and deep breaths as you gather yourself. it was now or never.
you pass through the throng of people, the atmosphere is charged with an electric energy, a complete contrast of the feelings that consumed you as joyce holds your hand comfortingly through the crows. joe walks ahead, gathering the boys as you approach them. trying your best to hide behind the small frame of joyce. for a moment don thinks he’s right, eyeing the girl standing behind joe’s girlfriend, as the boys stand ready to impressed. he also thinks he’s become delusional drowning in the thought of you— he can’t see the person well but with her frame peaking from joyce it makes him think its you, he tries to deny the thought in his head— trying to not physical head palm himself at such a stretch.
clearing her throat, joyce speaks “i made a friend from california and i just wanted to introduce her to the team that beat hers.” a small wave in her voice, seeingas don snaps his attention to her as she silently hopes she does this right. her words cause an immediate stir in the boys, ready to impress with their chests puffed. roger and bobby immediately share a look before looking down at their friend who’s now sat upright and at attention.
it can’t be…
you feel your hands tremor and a slight ring in your ears as your friend speaks but you can’t help the surge of adrenaline that runs through you knowing at any moment you will be face to face with your lover.
you feel a tug on your hand and soon enough you’re faced in front of your boyfriend among a sea of unfamiliar faces.
“this is y/n.”
before any of the boys can approach you, the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floor causes a pause through the group. turning their attention they see don stood up, eyes wide. all at once it feels as if time begins to slow, you’re stood before him looking beautiful as ever, like an angel sent from heaven. he feels like he’s dreaming— as if at any given moment he’ll be woken up from a painfully realistic dream. it isn’t until he feels a pat on his back, he breaks his gaze. looking over at roger who whispers a ‘lucky man’ with a giddy smile on his face. bobby and roger pass you last, having a small conversation with you telling you how you have a good eye for jewelry and realization on that you’re actually real, the locket on your neck further proving that. the group moves else where but close enough to see the lovers reunite.
his gaze is back on you, unbelieving the sight before him, you’re actually here— standing in front of you him with a wide smile on your face. you slowly walk towards him, meeting him until your inches apart. your hands comfortingly grasping his hands, thumb grazing his ring. you eyes take in his features that matured from the time you were away, he does the same drinking in the sight of you— guess his feeling wasn’t wrong. you were afraid he wouldn’t recognize you or look at you the same the same way he did before but the loving gaze is still strong through his iris’
"you're quiet. do i look bad?" trying to break the ice, words unsaid whilst you took in the sights of each other. you missed him more than you can recount, now that he’s in your hands again you cannot imagine being apart now.
"no. no, god, no.” shaking his head, gathering himself ”you left me speechless. in a good way, of course." (prompt from @novelbear) he would have never thought you could leave him speechless in a way you did now, looking breathtaking under the warm lighting of the hall, a soft laugh leaving you before giving his hands a gentle squeeze. your nerves dissipates into comfort as you look at him, a sudden wave of emotions coming over you. tears wake at your waterline and chin trembling as you look at your lover, your hand moving to his cheek caressing it gently— all your worries and doubts disappearing, grateful to whatever being upon the universe that brought you together again. don immediately noticing your change of emotion and he pulls you into a tight but comforting hug. the rest of the world fades away as you share that familiar embrace, the connection you once thought lost rekindling in an instant. your arms tightly around his neck, as his rest on your waist and a hand soothing at your back. he tries his best to hold back tears of his own as you softly sob into his blazer jumbled out “i missed yous” between hiccups and sniffles, he softly hushes you, comforting you the best way he can as he tries to keep it together but all at the same time reciprocating the same words to you like a soft lullaby letting your crying subside. you part from the crook of his neck, eyes puffy and tear stricken cheeks. staring down sheepishly at your sudden outburst. don takes it with open arms, grasping your face as he wipes the tears away and tucks fallen hairs from your face. so glad to have you back in his arms again.
“so, were you surprised?” you ask, straightening yourself up acting as if nothing happened— brushing your hair to your back as your hands go to fix his blazer, hand lovingly gracing his tie, evening the two pieces together. he looks at you with a crooked smile—
“surprised? honey you blew me away.” mimicking the way someone would be blown away from strong wind. his effort of making you laugh fruitful, as you giggle with hand coming to cover your mouth.
“but seriously, i’ve missed you so much. there wasn’t a day where i didn’t think of you, you’re the reason i tried out for the team..” his words coming out soft and sincere, standing close to you again. your heart swelled at his words, looking up at him with loving eyes. all while finding the words to describe how much you missed him.
“i couldn’t stop thinking about you when i was in cal, adjusting to the school was difficult; i felt like it would’ve been so much easier if you were there with me… i struggled so much but eventually i fell into a routine that felt empty because you weren’t in it. that’s why i came up to visit you; i didn’t mean for it to be a surprise— i wrote to you about it but judging by your reaction you haven’t received it yet.” don processes your words, thinking how the week has been so busy that he hadn’t had the time to go to the mail room to check for any response from you. you can see in his eyes a shade of guilt swirling through them, comfortingly you run a hand over his chest. grounding him. “but regardless, surprise or not. i’m happy to be with you again and to see you win.” you gleam, now filled with pride, squeezing his bicep gently. don flushes at the thought of you watching him win, in such tight and little clothing as well. you tease him about how much fitter he’s gotten and how he must give you a personal lesson on rowing soon. cooing at his flushed cheeks with proud words of praise as he thinks of taking you on a boat ride before you leave, when you leave.
“how long are you staying?” his face falling a bit but you lighten up.
“well… if you read my letter you’d know i’m transferring here as of next semester.” you say proudly, biting at your lip as you await his reaction. you watch as he tilts his head, a breathless chuckle of disbelief leaving him. then suddenly he wraps his arms around you, twirling you in his grasp making you squeal in surprise. he puts you down before pressing his lips to yours before you can catch your breath, chaste and content but relayed feelings and emotions not expressed through words said.
“you’re not joking right?” praying this wasn’t just some sick joke you were playing to get a rouse out of him, you wouldn’t do that to him right? the moment you shake your head no as a massive smile graces your face, he swears he’s never been happier. nothing could damper his mood, not even the words you said next.
“i’m staying for 2 more weeks starting today before i leave back to cal. but we’ll only be apart for a few more months before the semester starts again.”
he was elated at the news, once again pulling you into a content embrace telling you a few months was nothing. it was only a few months, if he could get through a year he could get pass a few months.
well, he better make the most of the two weeks then.
the rest of the night plays in a high note as you and don join the rest of the group, them getting to know the lover don had been hiding from them. bobby and roger seemingly more interested in the stories you told of don before college, even the most embarrassing ones and eventually convincing him to play a song other than the washington fight song when the party had died down, instead playing the lighthearted tune of cheek to cheek ( the original version was released during the 1930s but feel free to reference the sinatra version :] ) with soft hums of singing along as he plays. he watches as his friends dance on the floor beneath him, ever so often looking at you— watching him from the height of the piano, eyes full of love with your chin resting in your hand. content as ever.
the other half of his heart came back to him and he couldn’t be happier.
ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.
#the long awaited part two!!!!#im so happy with how this came out#i really hope you all enjoy this as much as i did#(´ー｀) the boys in the boat#the boys in the boat#don hume#the boys in the boat imagines#the boys in the boat fanfiction#don hume imagines#don hume x reader#don hume fanfiction#fanfiction#x reader#jack mulhern
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