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goldyeokki · 1 year

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄. ¹⁸⁺ ✧ 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluffy smut ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've noticed your boyfriend getting a lot . . . thicker lately.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.5k ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: no gendered pet names have been used for the (gn!afab!) reader; unprotected sex; oral (reader receiving); jaemin uses pet names like doll, pretty, baby, angel, whore, slut; big dick!jaemin; size kink; dacryphilia; dumbification if you squint; overstimulation if you squint; marking (jaemin receiving); it's pretty rough but it's also so sweet; choking; so so much praise; manhandling

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. my first fic! wah?! for the love of my life, na jaemin! pls give this lots of love<3

it’s a quiet saturday afternoon for both you and your boyfriend jaemin. neither of you have plans nor do you want to make any, so you’re spending the better part of your day lounging in bed together. he’s watching anime on the television screen across your bed while you scroll through tiktok on a lower volume. both of your legs are tangled together; your cheek is pressed against his bare chest, one arm wrapped around his back. meanwhile, he has his own arm secure around you, bicep acting as support for your neck while his hand rests on your hip. since you’re only wearing your panties and one of his shirts, he likes to take advantage of it and gently caress your exposed skin.

deciding to let your eyes take a break from the screen, you lock your phone and set it aside so you can focus on cuddling jaemin. one of the things that you appreciate the most about having an introverted boyfriend is that you don’t need to worry about awkward attempts to make conversation. you’re able to be comfortable in the silence and simply be.

you let your gaze drop from the big screen ahead to the view of his abs. you notice that he’s going to the gym with jeno and mark more often, and his diet’s altered to include more lean meat and dairy products. he tends to hide his figure with baggy clothes and oversized shirts but when it’s just the two of you, he waltzes around the apartment in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. sometimes, he’ll throw on a hoodie and a pair of socks, but that’s for the harsh winters.

you backtrack the events of the day so far, thinking of the shower that you both took together in the morning after he came back from his morning run. when scrubbing his back, you remember putting in a tad bit more effort to get a thorough job done. the scenes rewind in your mind like cuts of a short film. his back is, without a doubt, more defined now, muscles rolling with every slight movement. his chest is firmer too, but it doesn’t compromise how pillow-like it is when you use it to rest your head. and his arms . . . oh yeah, they’re a lot beefier now. when you compare your boyfriend’s build to jeno’s, the difference is clear as day.

he hasn’t always been this thick, though. you pick your phone back up and scroll back to find photos of your boyfriend nine months ago. he did have a lean and cut figure back then.

so maybe that explains the nagging urge to bite him lately.

well, who could blame you? your boyfriend is built like a club bouncer now. a really, really hot club bouncer. one that you’d gladly bounce on his di–

“something on your mind, baby?” his husky voice pulls you out of your reverie. you hum in response, hoping he’ll let it be but you know he’ll pester you if he’s convinced something is up. your eyes follow the movement of his free hand as he grabs the remote and pauses the show. there’s no way you could miss the flex in his arm and the veins that make themselves prominent when he presses down on the button. “are you sure?”

“very, i promise.” you look up to reassure him with a sweet smile. you take the opportunity for your free hand to gently pat his chest and goddamn, he’s firm. you try not to react but it’s obvious that your efforts are in vain when he chuckles.

“really? because the way your eyes went big when you just did that tells me otherwise.” jaemin shifts your positions so that you’re both sitting upright and facing each other. you pout and look at him but the exposure of his body leads your eyes to glaze all over his broad physique brazenly. “ah . . . is that what this is about?”

“hm?” you play coy, forcing your gaze back up to him as you look at him through your lashes, batting them pretty just the way it drives him crazy. it’s so easy to toy with your boyfriend like this. his pupils dilate and he sucks in a quick breath, adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat as he watches you carefully.

“god,” he exhales slowly and carefully. he calls out your name—firm and resolute—with an eyebrow cocked upward. “you’re giving me those eyes . . . fuck. tell me what you want to do. now.” he runs one hand down his face in a feeble attempt to calm himself down, eyes fluttering close as he takes in another deep breath before looking back at you, waiting for you to answer him. he keeps his hands to himself, refusing to touch you until you give him the green light.

there are so many things you want to do to him; so many things you want him to do to you. even in his lust, he looks at you like you put the twinkling stars in the night sky with your very own hands, and god, you kinda wanna sit on his face for it.

it’s a risky statement to make but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. you know that he’s going to jump your bones the second you give him the green light.

“i wanna bite you while you fuck my brains out.”

jaemin doesn’t waste any time—just as you had predicted. he crawls towards you on the bed and once you’re within his reach, he wraps one strong arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap. you’re surprised by the sheer strength that he possesses, evident in the soft gasp and the slightly disoriented look when you realise you’re not where you once were.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” you chastise him with a small pout.

“what am i doing on purpose?” jaemin feigns innocence with a mischievous grin. he pushes away the messy locks of hair that have fallen on your face while the other holds you in place. your eyes trail from his well-manicured hand to his bicep flexing and relaxing with every movement. he takes your chin between his curved index finger and thumb and redirects your gaze so it’s on him. “hey. eyes on me, pretty.” his voice is low and demanding, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes as the corner of his lips curls upwards into a smirk. a hot rush of blood flows straight to your core and cheeks from the sudden action.

he uses the hold he has on your chin as leverage to bring your face closer to him until your lips meet halfway. sweet, chaste kisses turn into hot, desperate ones within mere heartbeats. he keeps chasing after you every time you pull away for breath, the grip around you firm as he holds you in place. he doesn’t shy away from contact, no. his hand moves from your chin to cradle the base of your scalp, guiding your head so there’s no accidental bumping while the other slides underneath one of his old shirts that you’re wearing.

the second you’re both pulling away for fresh air, there’s tension and a vague competitiveness that circles the both of you. he glances at you with half-lidded eyes, provoking you with a cheeky smirk and a raise of his eyebrows. this motherfucker. you’re suddenly overcome with a compelling urge to mark him up with hickeys and scratch lines. so, you act on your desires.

you mirror what he likes to do to you: your left hand gently grabs his jaw and turns his face away so you have more access to his neck, lips finding the right spots for you to sink your teeth in and suckle on the flesh until you get him to groan for you. you rock your clothed core against his hardening erection, swathing your tongue over a fresh hickey. you’re rewarded with a deep, throaty groan that rings in your head and sends another rush of blood to your cunt.

“shit, baby,” he exhales slowly in a feeble attempt to keep his composure as you continue your quest.

“gotta let everyone know you belong to me, handsome.” your lips ghost over his ear, whispering words of innocent sin in a low voice to hear another grunt of pleasure from him. satisfied with the reactions he’s giving you, you resume devoting your attention to marking up his neck and chest.

“you’re gonna drive me crazy.” there’s a desperation in his voice where you know he wants to take over. you’re not sure what’s taken over him but decides to let you play first. not that you’re complaining, of course.

you form a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over his broad chest and collarbones, eyelids fluttering against his hot skin until you enclose your lips around one nipple. “oh, shit–!” jaemin’s hips buck up into yours from the sudden sensation of your tongue swirling around the pert bud. his wanton reaction stirs one from you, but you bite back the moan that threatens to spill.

the ache in your core is beginning to become unbearable and you wonder just how much self-control he’s exercising. his hands on your hips are eagerly pushing your heat down against his erection, weakly humping you like a teenage boy experiencing his first sexual encounter.

when you lean back to marvel at your work, you’re greeted with a sight that consumes you with unbridled lust and makes your whole body run hot.

he’s so pretty with his face flushed, flowers of rouge and plum on his neck, collarbones, and chest, glistening with a thin layer of sweat. he’s panting softly, lips swollen from being bitten and sucked on thanks to you, and for a brief moment, the golden late noon sun that peeks through your covered blinds envelopes him in an ethereal glow.

your nails gently rake down his sculpted biceps as you ascend back up, following your trail of hickeys until you find your faces mere inches from each other once again.

“hey, you,” jaemin exhales before giving you a soft, chaste kiss. “had fun?” he asks softly. you giggle, nodding as you cup his face to properly kiss him this time.

even when he’s desperate for air, his lips trap yours in a feverish lock as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. his hips buck upwards into yours every other heartbeat. dexterous hands dance along your body, toying with the fabric that keeps your exposed skin from him. he’s starting to get restless for some proper action—a constant habitual reaction that you’ve noticed from him every time you’re about to get frisky.

he starts to grab and knead possessively at your love handles. that’s when you know: it’s his turn to undress you.

jaemin grabs a fistful of your shirt hem and pulls it over your head before tossing it over his shoulder into a forgotten corner. one hand is on your waist, the other ghosting his fingertips down your spine so your back gently arches into him. he nibbles on your bottom lip and presses your throbbing core against his erection.

the action elicits a soft gasp of surprise from you. he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips while fondling your right breast, pinching and rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple. he begins his own trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your chest just so he can hear your pretty moans.

you don’t even realise that he had been slowly making you lean down until your back hits the mattress. he suddenly stops and your mind is reeling to hazily explore the one thousand and one reasons he might have paused.

before you can even think to ask if everything is okay, jaemin slides your panties to the side and latches his lips onto your clit.

shockwaves spread through your body and your hands immediately fly to his hair, thighs clenching around him when he suckles on the sensitive nub.

“jaemin!” you whine in defeat, eyes fluttering shut with your head thrown back. he only hums in response and the vibrations send another wave of electricity up your spine.

he languidly laps at your juices, his gaze constantly flitting between your face and your core. he eats you out like he’s been given a lavish meal by the gods. he toys with your clit—suckling, flicking, rolling at the nub just to watch your face contort and scrunch up in equal parts pleasure and frustration of not getting what you want. a wide grin appears on his face when your eyes meet and you whine his name in a long drag.

jaemin’s tongue starts to dance along your lower lips, collecting your juices on the wet muscle before he thrusts it deep into your core. you moan from the relief of having something shoved inside of you, walls clenching tightly around him which pulls a throaty grunt from your boyfriend.

the lewd, wet sounds of slurping and sucking fill your shared bedroom. you feel your cheeks and neck burn from how embarrassing and erotic it is but you’re too occupied with how good it feels to have his tongue stretch you out. your high is creeping upon you slowly and before you can push his head deeper so you can ride his face, he pulls away to wrap his lips around your neglected bud.

“tastes so fucking sweet,” he groans around your clit. long, dexterous fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he pins you down, not allowing a single movement from you. “could eat you out all day, baby.” your frustration picks away at you, tears welling in your eyes, walls clenching desperately around nothing. a needy whine is pulled from your throat before you can even stop yourself.

jaemin hums and looks back up at you, raising an eyebrow upward smugly. you’re glaring down at him, body burning with need and lust, while he continues to flick his pointed tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. your body starts to twitch from how sensitive you are, fingers digging deep into his fluffy brown locks but he’s not done playing with you yet.

“need something, pretty?” there’s a gentle slur in his words, pretty pink lips stained with your pearlescent arousal as he rises to his feet. you don’t even know when he discarded his clothes but he’s naked with his cock throbbing against his stomach. he wraps his fingers around his duo-toned erection, spreading beads of precum on himself. “c’mon baby, use your words for me.”

the mattress dips where he parts your thighs with an authoritative bump of his knee, climbing over you like a predator surveying its prey. he leans forward, free hand gently grabbing your jaw while the other lazily pumps himself. he cocks an eyebrow upward as he grinds his bare cock against your sopping folds, letting his heavy tip catch against your clit just to watch you whimper and tremble from the sensation.

“want your cock in me now, jaem,” you whine desperately. he’s second-guessing himself and you can see it in the way his features soften a little in concern. he will always get you to cum at least once before he penetrates and this is the first time he will be forgoing it. but you—you’re desperate. your juices are dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets and you’re beyond sure that he’ll be able to slip right in.

“are you sure, angel?” jaemin’s thumb runs over your bottom lip. when presented with the opportunity, who are you to deny yourself of taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it? his eyes darken, lids drooping halfway and brows furrowing just the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me. use your words, pretty.”

he’s caught in a trance-like state as he watches you suck on his thumb. you know he’s tempted to pull his thumb away to replace it with his ring and middle fingers just to see how deep you can take him in. since he denied you of your pleasure, you’ll deny him of his.

you release his thumb from your lips with a soft, wet pop before gazing up at him through your lashes.

“i need you to fuck me now, jaemin. i need you.”

like a switch had been flipped, he cusses under his breath and looks down to guide his cockhead to your entrance. without a hint of a warning, he bullies his cock into your warm, awaiting cunt.

“fuck!” he groans when you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his lower back to encourage him to push deeper. meanwhile, your head is thrown back, eyes rolling back as he sinks further into you, walls tightening around him like a vice. jaemin grabs your jaw once again to force your gaze onto him. “look at me when you’re taking my fat cock, baby.”

you force your eyes open with a shaky breath, doing exactly as you’re told as you pant hotly. he continues burying himself into you until he bottoms out and his eyes bore into you when your face contorts in pure pleasure of feeling the euphoric stretch of your walls to accommodate his heavy girth.

“fuck, how are you always so fucking tight?” he’s the first to break eye contact, lids squeezing shut as he lets you get used to his size. his head falls forward and he takes the opportunity to plant sweet kisses all over your face and cheeks. you know better than anyone that it’s his way of distracting himself while you get used to his size before he starts to fuck you. it’s not like you haven’t fucked in a long time—he’s just big enough for you to struggle even when you’re at least two orgasms down.

“m-move,” you barely whisper.

with your consent, he rolls his hips forward to test the waters and he’s rewarded with a needy whine paired with your walls squeezing around him.

jaemin’s right hand plants firmly on your hip while the other gently grabs your jaw to give him more access to your neck. there’s no warning when he starts ploughing into you, cockhead burying itself deep into your cunt with every upward snap of his hips. pleasure spreads through your body in constant waves as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you with reckless abandon. his name rips through your throat in tandem with the sounds of skin smacking against skin bouncing off the thin walls.

“such a desperate little whore.” his lips latch onto your neck as he continues driving his heavy cockhead deep against all of the good spots. “always so fucking tight for me.” he sighs almost wistfully. the hand that was on your jaw moves to wrap around your throat, fingers pressing down on the right spots to restrict your airflow.

you’re already so sensitive, sparks igniting all over your body, but he angles his hips higher so his tip is aggressively bullying the exact spot that has you seeing stars. your feeble hands wrap around his wrist as he leers over you with a domineering grin.

the sight of him so consumed with lust has your heart racing from how handsome yet hedonistic he looks. his onyx eyes are blown with a dark eagerness, strands of deep brown locks sticking to his temples as beads of sweat form trails down his hairline. his lips are pink and swollen from being kissed so lovingly whilst his neck and collarbones are littered with hickeys done in your name. he looks so sinful. it’s an intoxicating view that sends your head into a tailspin and another hot burst straight to your core.

“you look so pretty when you’re so fucked out, angel,” he hissed through his teeth. “so cockhungry you can’t even speak? all you needed was my cock and you’ll be satisfied, ain’t that right?”

before you can argue with him, jaemin pulls his cock out from you and slaps the tip against your neglected clit. you whine from the sudden emptiness when he pulls away from you, desperate for his hands on your body.

“jaem . . .” your complaint comes in the form of a weak whisper that he only chuckles quietly in response. “i wanna feel you, jaem.”

“patience is a virtue, pretty.” there’s a gentle lilt in his voice and through your glossy vision you can see the grin. he’s having fun taking his own sweet time with you while you crave for his touch. as punishing as it is, part of you is quivering with anticipation for what comes next.

jaemin sinks down onto his knees until he’s face to face with your lower lips. he brings his left hand down to your dripping core, middle and index fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. he huffs in amusement as he watches your hole clench desperately around him. in embarrassment, you try to close your thighs to hide from him but he’s quicker and far stronger. one strong grip of warning and you submit in a heartbeat.

“such a gorgeous cunt . . . probably waiting for more of my cock, hm?” he asks without really asking, gaze flitting up to yours and he’s chuckling once again when you nod desperately.

he rises to his feet, casually patting his hand against your pussy and making it a point for the heel of his palm to put pressure against your throbbing clit.

“jaemin . . .”

“shh, we’ll get there, baby. patience.”

he pulls you up into a sitting position with ease before he takes his own space on his side of the bed. his back is against the headboard, pillows supporting him as he sits back and strokes his aching cock. you stare at him through your wet lashes, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“pretty baby wants my cock, right?” you nod eagerly. “show me how badly you want it, then.” you want to glare and huff and puff and throw a tantrum but his stern gaze penetrates right through you. you pout in a feeble attempt to get him to at least pull you onto his thick lap again but he doesn’t budge.

“you’re so mean.” you complain with a grumble. with trembling thighs and arms you crawl over to him anyway. you don’t think look too hot or sexy but jaemin watches your every move like he’s going to eat you up the second you’re in his grasp. he maintains eye contact as he cleans up the hand that he used to touch himself, flat tongue licking and swirling around his dexterous digits. god, he looks so fucking hot.

you don’t know what he’s going to do next but you’re going to take advantage of getting up close so you can sink your teeth into his shoulders and your nails into his biceps.

“oh, i’m mean for giving you a chance to prove how much your slutty pussy wants my fat cock?” his words are so vulgar and it sends a hot rush straight to your core. when you straddle him, cockhead ghosting over your pussy lips, he gently takes your chin between his thumb and curled index finger to guide your eyes onto him. “why are you so quiet? cat got your tongue, doll?”

“no.” you huff in defence. jaemin chuckles in amusement when you plant both your hands on his shoulders and turn your face away slightly. when you’ve steadied yourself successfully, you take the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance.

as much as you would love to worship his body as he did to you, you’re far too impatient and too desperate to chase after your high. he’s been teasing you relentlessly and you’re going to get what you’ve been craving for.

you sink yourself down onto his cock, taking deep breaths while your walls flutter restlessly around his girth. his hands fly to your waist and guide you until you’re buried to the hilt. the tip is snugly kissing your g-spot when you’re seated properly, thighs burning from the effort after being relentlessly toyed with. your head drops and a soft moan of his name comes from your throat, forehead resting against his shoulder.

“shit,” he curses under his breath. the grip he has on your waist moves to your ass, kneading the pillowy flesh and littering kisses all over your temple and exposed shoulder. “you okay, pretty? i know my cock is too big for your greedy cunt but you take it like a good slut anyway, don’t you?” your whimpers and weak nods in response to his lewd words made his cock twitch inside of you, sending chills up your spine.

it drives you insane the way he can be so sweet and gentle while calling you such mean and obscene names. and you hate the way it makes your walls clench like a vice around him.

“yeah? i knew you liked being called a good slut.” jaemin’s fingers dig into you, biceps bulging as he effortlessly lifts you up and down his cock at a slow and steady pace. every time he sinks you down, he makes it a point to snap his hips upwards to meet you halfway. “such a cockhungry angel. what would everyone say if they saw you drooling all over my cock, huh?”

you mewl weakly in response, biting down on his shoulder to suppress your moans while your nails dig into his biceps.

“fuck, you really like getting called such dirty names, don’t you?” he bullies his cockhead right where it makes you see stars in your vision just so he can hear your sweet cries for mercy. you feel a little lightheaded from the pleasure coursing through your veins with every gentle yet hard thrust into you, blissfully taking his cock as he wants you to. “you’re so fucking dirty, baby. whose cock does this pussy belong to?”

you want to say his name, to say that it’s him, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of him wrapped around your walls to think of anything coherent.

“already dumb on my cock? i’ve barely begun, babe.”

while he’s still inside of you, jaemin secures your legs around his waist before he pushes you onto your back, changing your positions once more. the air gets knocked out of your lungs at the sudden switch, meekly whimpering his name when he checks on you. when he’s sure you’re okay, he gives you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

you don’t even realise that he has your knees hooked on his shoulders, his own digging into the mattress on either side of you. before you can process what is happening, you’re left gasping for air once again when he starts pounding into you with reckless abandon.

“jaemin!” a broken cry of his name rips through your throat when he snakes one hand down to roll your clit in figure eights. between his cock ruining your walls and the added stimulation to your throbbing clit, there’s nothing but sweet release and pleasure that fills your mind. “j-jaem, fuck, ‘s too– fuck!”

“too what, baby? is it too much? is my fat cock too much for you, baby?” he growls into your ear yet places a sloppy, tender kiss on your jawline. “you were just begging to get fucked like a whore and now—shit—and now my angel’s complaining it’s too much?” he punctuates the last three words with a thrust harder and rougher than the last, sending your head into a tailspin as your jaw drops to mewl weakly.

his words sink into your skin, touch electrifying as he patiently helps you reach your high.

“it’s– fuck, jaemin!” you weep pathetically with your walls clenching around him like a vice. you bite down on your lower lip as tears spring from your eyes due to the overstimulation of him relentlessly hitting your g-spot again and again while toying with your throbbing clit. the familiar knot starts to form and build up in your stomach, your body burning up with a feverish lust that only he can take care of. “i’m close, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!”

“my baby’s close?” he echoes. beads of sweat drip down his chin and mix with yours on your body. you didn’t think he could get any rougher but he proves you otherwise with his incessant rolling and tapping on your throbbing bud. he leans back to allow his free hand to play with your tits—kneading, pinching and rolling at your sensitive nipples with calloused fingers. “go on, baby. make a mess all over my cock before i fill you up, can you do that for me?”

all of the stimulations are piling up. you can’t focus on one thing at all; everything is too much all at once and the knot in your stomach is tightening dangerously. every shove and drag of his cock within your walls leave you gasping for hair, sucking him back in desperately when he withdraws himself. the sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills your ears, your moans bouncing off the walls in tandem with jaemin snapping his hips against yours. your eyes fly open—when had they shut?—to look at your boyfriend whose dark eyes burn with a feral desire to make you come undone.

“what’s wrong, baby? need me to talk you through your orgasm?” as if your body doesn’t feel hot enough already, your cheeks burn and you weakly manage a nod. he grins, clearly proud that he has this effect on you. “c’mon baby, i know you want my cum to fill you up. don’t you? i know you can do it for me, i’m close too. make a mess all over my fat cock and show me who this tight cunt belongs to.”

his words are all that it takes to bring you your sweet release. his name is ripped from your throat as your orgasm hits you in a dangerous wave, pussy clamping down on him and forming milky white rings around his cock. jaemin doesn’t stop pounding recklessly into you nor does he stop toying with your clit, switching between tapping and rolling the bud as he helps you ride out your high while he chases after his own.

“so good, you’re so fucking good for me,” he groans. the wet squelching sounds get lewder with every drag of his cock through your fluttering walls. you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it but for some reason you are. your boyfriend doesn’t give you enough time to think about it as his thrusts get sloppier and he starts to lose his rhythm. “fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry for me. your cunt’s so fucking good, so tight f’me, fuck! i’m gonna cum, you gonna let me fill your needy pussy up, angel?”

“yes, fuck, yes!” both of your hands reach out to cup his face to direct his gaze onto you. “need you to fill me up, jaemin. wanna be dripping full of your cum. cum for me, baby.” your words act as the catalyst to helping him come undone.

his hips stutter against yours, face scrunching up and eyes fluttering shut as your name comes in a long, whiny drag from his throat. his cock twitches once, twice, before you’re filled with his hot seed. the sensation makes your shoulders tense up slightly, quietly moaning at the warmth.

jaemin, while still buried deep inside of you, carefully maneouvres himself so you’re both lying down on the bed. he makes an effort to pull you close into his chest and let him be your mattress to avoid hurting you. both of you are panting heavily, lightheaded from the dizzying pleasure as the after-sex buzz crawls underneath your skin.

“you feeling okay, pretty?” he’s the first to check in on you, turning his head to the side. he reaches his hand out to push locks of your hair that are stuck to your face. in his peripheral vision, he catches the bite marks and faint scratches that adorn his bicep and he laughs through his nose. “jesus christ, babe. sure did a number on me this time, huh?”

his words are swirling in your head and you grin lazily while looking up at him.

“you should look at yourself in the mirror next, handsome.” he cracks another smile at the slight slur in your speech, obviously worn from the spontaneous session.

jaemin lovingly leans into you to press a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering as if he’s letting the affection pour from his soul and into yours.

“i love you, _____.” he confesses in a soft whisper—a confession meant only for you to hear. “let’s take a ten-minute break before i set up the bath so we can clean up, yeah?” his hand rests at your waist, thumb massaging circles and mindless shapes into the soft flesh.

“i love you too, jaemin.” you whisper back. “we can do that.” although your body is still buzzing from the aftermath of what might just be one of your most satisfying orgasms in the past week, you’re stubborn enough to want to take care of him too. in the safety of his arms, you allow yourself to succumb to the exhaustion as your eyelids slowly fall shut.

#na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin x reader smut #hua writes #h.smut #h.dream #h.jaemin

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messylustt · 6 months

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boss, i have a question — miguel o’hara. ( nsfw ). amazinggg scenario based on this request. so tasty wtf. cheating. bj. innocence. secondhand embarrassment? finally posted, oml i’m so sorry for the long wait :(

you had one question and too many awkward outcomes. you couldn’t ask the people you’d rather ask. they’d ask more questions, and most likely not tell it to you straight. you needed to know, but nobody got that.

all except miguel.

you wouldn’t dare look at his face as you mumbled the words out. wanting not to say them but also wanting an answer to them. the silence feels like two hands at your neck. you can feel your feet shuffling, unintentionally sliding back. maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

your mind and gaze focuses on a speckle of dust on the floor, as you wait. yeah, you really shouldn’t have asked.

at first miguel’s reaction was shock. you asked what? he thought he had heard wrong. he had to have heard wrong. but you’re still here, feet shuffling, gaze down, but nonetheless still here. you wanted an answer. why from him? he doesn’t know.

“you can ignore my question.” you suddenly say, feet a lot farther back then before. “you can — ”

“no boyfriend to ask?” miguel’s questions is simple, said in that typical unfazed tone. “um…yes, but…i can’t ask him.” you say back, with a tilt to your head, your gaze just below his eyes.

“why not?” he asks, but you don’t answer, again repeating your question. “what’s a bj?” your innocent tone tells miguel how you really don’t realise the implications of asking him something like this. your innocence is telling him to tell you. answer your question.

“do you know that it’s an abbreviation?” he asks, his gaze staring at your face a little more focused. you look to the side, sucking part of your lower lip between your teeth before glancing back. “i’m not dumb”

“mhm.” miguel just hums, glancing up at his shut office door, before looking back to you. “why ask me?”

“because i’d think you’d know.” you reply. “many people here know. your friends would know.” miguel states, crossing his arms. “they’d ask questions”

“i’m asking questions.” miguel answers straight away. “yeah but not the invasive ones.” you reply, now tapping at your fingers.

miguel eyes you, more narrowed, more intently. “you want to know what a ‘bj’ is?” miguel asks, now meeting your gaze, but you’re quick to look away. you nod, glancing to the far wall behind him. one word and a tap of his finger at his desk behind him, makes you shift it back. “c’mere.”

you now slide your feet closer, a little hesitant. miguel watches you, not missing one movement. then his hand is behind your head, his fingers in your hair, as he draws you closer. you should have backed away then, said you changed your mind, but you stay still, staring at him.

miguel, with his hand in your hair guides you down onto the floor, on your knees as he mutters. “kneel down.” you’re slightly confused as you look up at him. miguel grabs your hand and guides it to his hard on, that you just now notice at your eye level. your eyes expand as you realise. “you ever done anything with your boyfriend?” miguel asks, his suit beginning to disappear, as he keeps your head held by his hips.

“i…” you can feel your breathing pattern change, as miguel begins pump his already hard cock in one hand. “i’ll take that as a no.” he says, as pre-cum leaks out from his head, as he tilts his head down at you. “open up.” he utters as you gulp, big eyes staring at his tip. he taps under your chin as he lets go of his cock, urging your mouth to open, as you part your lips.

“a bj…” he begins as he pulls your head closer, tapping his cock on your tongue lightly. “is short for blowjob.” he coats your tongue in his pre-cum as you scrunch your hands into fists at your thighs. “is your boyfriend wanting one?” he asks, just looking at the way the white slips around your mouth before he pulls your head closer, your lips being moved to wrap around his head.

you try to speak around his cock, it twitching in your mouth at the vibrations, making him clench his jaw. “just shake your head or nod.” you nod. and that’s when his grip in your hair begins to slowly drag your lips up and down his cock. “hollow your cheeks” he instructs, as you try to do so, getting used to the feeling of a dick in your mouth.

“i don’t know why you’re not asking him, but i won’t ask any ‘invasive’ questions.” miguel says, his hips begin to slowly meet your mouth. you try to copy his movements. the up and down motion, that your head soon picks up. with his grip still in your hair, he notices the way you try to to take him deeper.

you’re soon choking, gagging around his head, as water pricks at your eyes. miguel could’ve warned you, told you about your gag reflex, but selfishly he wanted to see what you’d look like spluttering over his dick. “careful.” he mutters, not sounding very apologetic, as you glance up at him, his hips beginning to move a fraction faster.

miguel taps at your throat. “loosen up.” he says, as his hands pull your head further down, guiding your movements. you try and loosen your throat, having had to swallow all that extra spit. you meet his gaze, worried. but he just strokes your hair “gagging’s fine, cariño. you’ll get used to it.”

he pulls you completely onto him, your nose brushing his pubic hair. you then repeat those up and down movements, clenching your hands back into fists as you gag. “that’s it...” miguel hums, seemingly pleased. you can feel his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip practically tapping at the back of your throat.

with him stroking your hair, and holding the back of your neck, his abs tighten. he waits till the last second, your head obediently bobbing, before he pulls out, coating your suit-clad chest in white. you’re catching your breath, your cheeks stained in loose tears. miguel still pets your head, pushing the strands of hair out of your eyes, as he glances down at the mess he made, tilting your chin up. “does that…answer your question?”

2K notes · View notes

cozage · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request for Ace, Shanks react to their crush sitting on their lap because of a challenge/truth or dare game?

Characters: G/N reader with Ace, Shanks, Luffy, Law A/N: I loved this request so much I was losing sleep over thinking about this. It has been all I’ve been thinking about for the past few days. Thank you SO MUCH for this. I went a little crazy with this one and I added a few extra people just because I could not get this scenario out of my brain, but your requests are up first and the longest :)

Cw: SFW and NSFW here. NSFW is clearly marked if you want to skip that portion. Minors - PLEASE DNI WITH THE NSFW!! I promise I will have so much content for you to consume, please respect me and my work and avoid the NSFW stuff. There’s also alcohol mention, drinking, heavy flirting

Total word count: 4.2k

Truth or Dare

Ace

Word count: 1.1k

“Dare.” You weren’t normally a risk taker, but you trusted Marco not to be too wild in his request.

When his eyes slid over to Ace and a smirk appeared on Marco’s face, you immediately regretted that decision. “I dare you to sit on Ace's lap for the rest of the night. Only getting up for bathroom breaks, dares, or refills.”

Ace tries to play it off as not a big deal in front of everyone. He’s known as a super cocky and charismatic guy by the crew and he’s not about to give up that reputation because of some dare.

You know Ace though, and you definitely see his cheeks growing red as you walk over to him.

He opens his arms to welcome you, mostly to make a spectacle of the whole thing to the rest of the crew, but you catch him shooting daggers out of his eyes at Marco when everyone isn’t looking.

This man is secretly a NERVOUS. WRECK. Internally he’s so awkward and uncomfortable about being this close to you and it not being on your own terms.

Ace has never even made a move on you before. You all have exchanged flirtatious banter frequently, but you’ve never been this close for this long.

You try to ignore it, but you can see Marco mouthing things to him when he thinks you aren’t looking. Unfortunately you’re not a good lip reader, but you think you can see the first division commander mouth out “make a move” while nodding at you.

At first Ace was super stiff and uncomfortable with the situation. He’s leaning all the way back, hands hanging by his side. He’s trying to give you the space to feel comfortable, because he knows this has to be even more awkward for you than it is for him. He looks comfortable enough to everyone else in the room, but you can feel the tension in his movements.

One of the few times he willingly gives you more contact than you already share is to reach for his drink at the table. Anytime he reaches for it, his bare chest presses up against your back, and you have to resist the urge not to lean into his warmth.

You get up to get a drink for the both of you, and when you come back, you find him talking to Marco in a hushed tone. He sounds irritated, but when he sees you, he smiles and reaches out to you, welcoming you back into his lap.

“Truth.” You were cautious to do dares due to the position you were in now. “Do you like sitting on Fire Fist’s lap?” Haruto asked. You shrugged casually, but you could feel your ears burning. “It’s not so bad.”

After the initial awkwardness wears off and a few more drinks are in your alls system, you both get more comfortable with your situation. You all relax into your normal selves again, bantering and laughing.

When he says something stupid, you turn around and flick his forehead, and he pretends to pout and ignore you for a while. He traces lines along your back and tickles your sides to get you to squeal and squirm away from him.

Ace gets up to do a dare finally, and you stay standing, waiting for him to come back. “If you need a nice place to sit, I’ve got a lap even better than Ace’s!” You laugh and politely decline, but you catch Ace glaring at the guy who attempted to make a move on you. When Ace returns to his seat, he beckons to you, and you happily sit down on top of him.

You get up for a dare, and when you come back to sit with him, a few guys jokingly question when it’s going to be their turn. Neither you or Ace acknowledge them, but as you sit down, Ace wraps his hand around your waist. He’s not holding you or anything, his hand just rests there. You like the feeling.

The next time you get up for a dare, he holds you back for a second before he releases you. You lock eyes for a second before he mumbles an apology and averts his gaze.

You two alternate between you leaning back against him and him resting his head on your shoulder or against your back.

“I really like the smell of your shampoo,'' he whispers soft enough so only you can hear. You can feel him take in a few deep breaths with his nose pressed into your hair. There's an exchange of electricity between you two. He feels it too, but neither of you say anything. You just enjoy your quiet moment of shared intimacy.

NSFW

Late in the night, you get up to refill both of your drinks.When you come back, you sit down and shift a bit in Ace’s lap to get comfortable. You can feel him involuntarily grind into your ass, and without thinking you press back into him. Both of you are painfully aware of what you’ve both done, and your cheeks flush with heat instantly. It’s a bit awkward for a little while, but after watching a few more rounds of truth or dare, you’ve both moved on from the awkwardness.

A while later, the ship hits a rogue wave and you lose your balance. Ace's arm instinctively flexes to hold you in place on top of him. He manages to steady you, but he can’t save your beer, which splashes all over your shirt. You groan, and start to get up to clean it up, but his hand grips your waist and holds you in your place on his lap. He doesn’t want you to leave. “We can get you another shirt later.”

“I'm just going to go change, Ace. I’ll be right back”

“Sorry.” He sighed, his hand still tightly gripped against your waist, pulling you as close as possible. “That wasn’t a reason you could leave your seat.”

“Ace,” you whine back to him. You really didn’t want to smell like beer all night. “Please let me change.”

His fingers do a light dance across your midsection, and he leans close against you to whisper in your ear. “You want help?”

Luckily your cheeks are already rose-tinted from the alcohol, or else you’d be giving yourself away. Unluckily, most of the room's eyes are already on you two, waiting to see what will happen next. It’s silent for a long moment, before someone shouts out. “GET A ROOM, YOU TWO!” You’re pretty sure it was another commander, though you’re too focused on Ace to see which one it was.

“I’m just going to change.” You call out as you get up. Ace follows closely behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” A mix of applause and cheers echo from the room as you all head towards your cabin.

Shanks

Word count: 1.1k

“Dare,” you say with a smirk. “Do your worst, Beckman.”

It was a game the two of you played often while on the sea, and you hadn’t lost to him yet. But his devilish grin makes a knot appear in your stomach. Perhaps you had taunted him too much. He lowers his voice so only you can hear. “Go sit in the Captain’s seat for ten minutes.”

You scoff at the notion. You were expecting much worse. “That’s not much of a dare, Beck. You had me worried.”

“You don’t think?” He raises an eyebrow and nods in the direction of the seat, and as you follow his gaze to see that your captain is currently seated where you need to be. “Go on then. And you can’t let him know about the game.”

That was always the rule. If people were on to your motives, you would lose the game. You were always sly enough to get by in the past, which is how Beckman always lost. Beckman nudges you on, and you roll your eyes and head towards Shanks.

“Hey, Captain.” You casually sit sideways on his lap and feign deep intrigue at whatever paper he’s currently looking over.

He’s extremely taken aback and confused by your sudden comfortability with him, given you’ve never done something like this before.

He quickly recovers from his shock and has the biggest grin watching you examine the paper he’s holding.

Shanks very quickly realizes he could get used to you sitting like this all the time, and doesn’t want you to get up anytime soon, so he ropes you into helping him with his current project. “It looks like a coded treasure map. I just can’t quite get the right sequence to decode it properly.”

He knows you’re a sucker for a good mystery/puzzle, and hands off the paper for you to look at. You quickly snatch the paper and actually start looking at it now, seriously intrigued. Plus it’s a great way to pass the time.

You almost forget that you came over here as a part of a dare. You stare at the paper and absent-mindedly lean into Shanks to get comfortable.

He wraps his arm around you to support you, and you take that as a further prompt to get more relaxed. By the time you’re both comfortable, you’re curled up his lap with your head resting against his chest. Your legs are propped up against one of the arm rests for support, and Shanks’ arm is wrapped around your back and is resting on your waist.

You don’t seem to notice how intimate it is, preoccupied with the paper laid out before you. Shanks, on the other hand, is very aware of it. He isn’t a man who gets embarrassed easily, but he’s doing a quick glance around the deck to see if anyone’s watching you two and your very public display of flirtation with one another.

As he looks around, he spots Beckman eyeing the two of you, and Shanks shifts a bit to pull you in closer to him. You hum pleasantly and don’t even notice Shanks and Beckman exchanging looks, your eyes glued to the paper.

Beckman just raises an eyebrow at his captain, who grins in return. The second in command winks at his captain and turns away, his mission complete.

Your ten minutes flies by without you even realizing it. Thirty minutes, then an hour…

Shanks doesn’t normally like to stay in one place for so long, but he really enjoys having you so close to him and watching you work.

The crew occasionally came up and asked their captain for certain things, and though they wanted to say something about the current situation he was in, nobody brought it up. In fact, they had a running bet for how long you all would stay there before you finally moved.

He would smile to himself every time you scrunched up your nose in frustration or mumbled random phrases to yourself. Normally he would tease you about such things, but he didn’t want to break your concentration or have you realize how much time had passed.

“I got it!” Two hours had passed by the time the map was fully decoded, and Shanks felt his heart fall a little when you held the paper up in triumph. He knew it was much more likely you would abandon your seat now that your task was over.

“It was actually three separate codes, all working off of each other's set codes, like a code within a code! So when you…” You keep explaining the solution to your captain, and he listens intently, watching your every movement.

“You know, I’ve been trying to solve that problem for two weeks.” He laughs softly. “And you solved it in two hours.” Your face flushes noticeably. Two hours?

“I didn’t mind it,” he says, as if he’s reading your thoughts. “It’s the best seat on the ship, after all.”

NSFW

You can feel the tips of your ears growing hot at his remarks, and you quickly swing your legs and start to the ground to stand, but you’re pulled back onto his lap, straddling one of his legs. Your closeness over the past two hours has filled him with courage.

“Hey now.” He presses himself against your back while he speaks, low and soft. “I don’t think I said you could get up yet.”

“Wha-” Your mouth falls open from shock, and you start to question what he means, but you’re immediately cut off when his thigh jolts upwards into the space between your legs, grinding against you. You clamp your mouth shut quickly, biting your lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Captain!” It comes out as a low hiss, and you glance around the deck nervously to see if there were any witnesses, but the two of you are alone. You feel his leg buck against you again, and you squirm to get off of his thigh. But he has a tight grip on you, and moving around on him is only making him drive his leg further into you.

He hums in amusement, enjoying the attempt of your half-hearted escape. “Do you not like it?” He teases. “Your heart rate seems to be telling me something different.”

He’s right, of course. You are enjoying it. You don’t answer him, and he can’t see your face, but you can feel yourself wanting to grind back against his leg, enjoying the sensation.

As you begin to move back into him, he shifts his leg, and you lose the high you had both been working together to build. You turn your head to face him, glaring at him for making such an intentional move. He smirks back in return.

“I told you this was the best seat on the ship, and I’ll be damned if I don’t live up to that.”

Luffy

Word count: 1k

“Ha! You lose!”

Of course you lost. You were going up against Luffy in a drinking contest. You returned to your place in the circle of crew members, sitting criss-crossed on the deck. “What do I have to do now?”

Nami pulls a card from the deck, and reads it aloud for everyone to hear. “The loser has to sit on the winner's lap until the next round.”

Your eyes widen as a smile spreads across Luffy’s face. His arms shoot out to grab you before you can even protest, and he pulls you to him. “I love being a winner!” He sets you into his lap, and wraps his arms around you several times so you can’t escape.

Luffy is never one to shy away from public affection. When he has a crush, it’s painfully obvious to everyone around him. The crew had been waiting for him to make a move on you, and finally the opportunity presented itself.

He acts like you all have been in this scenario hundreds of times, there’s no awkwardness whatsoever. As the game goes on, he cheers and laughs, always moving you with him. He’s 100% comfortable with you in his lap.

He keeps his hands wrapped around you and his chest is always flush with your back. You two are one person now. And neither of you have use of your arms.

You squirm a bit, trying to get a hand free to grab a drink. You definitely needed one, with the position you were in. Luffy’s head appears next to yours, his big eyes looking at you with confusion. “Hm? Are you not comfortable?”

“No, no,” you reassure him lightly. Your brain feels a little dizzy from being so close to him. “I just want a drink.”

“Oh!” His arms unravel from you and reach across the circle to grab the drink from your old spot for you. “There you go!” He repositions himself so his arms still get to be wrapped around you, but you have the ability to move your arms again.

He rests his head on your shoulder and watches the others play their various challenges. He yells out words of encouragement and throws out challenge ideas himself. You remind yourself to have Chopper check your ear for signs of hearing loss.

Your turn comes around to partake in another challenge, this time with Zoro. Luffy pouts a bit when he has to relinquish you. It’s a guessing game challenge, and you beat Zoro by a significant amount. When you finish the challenge, you return to your seat in Luffy’s lap.

“Thanks for coming back, even though you didn’t have to!” Luffy snuggles into you and wraps his arms around your torso again. Your face turns as red as his shirt, and everyone laughs before moving on to the next challenge.

NSFW

After a few more rounds, half of the crew turned in for bed. The only ones who remained were you, Nami, Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, and Usopp. You were all extremely drunk, so the challenges had died down, turning into more of a game where you had to answer questions about each other or do something to avoid answering it. You still sat in Luffy’s lap, his head resting lazily on your shoulder.

“Hey, I have one for you, Y/N.” Nami glanced around the circle before continuing. “Who here do you think would be the best in bed?”

You choke on your drink, and you’re not the only one. You see everyone stiffen, and they all eye you inquisitively. You had prided yourself in the fact that you hadn’t turned down a question yet, and you could sense that Nami wanted you to eat your words.

You think about it for a few moments before answering. “Probably Zoro.”

There’s a moment of silence that follows your answer, leaving it hanging in the air. You can’t see Luffy’s face, but you can feel him clench his fists into your side. Your eyes haven’t left Nami’s since you answered, and see a sign of shock appear over her face. She can’t think of anything to say other than, “Wait…really?”

“Well, it’s all in the way you worded it, Nami.” You should shut your mouth and have some shame, but you can’t help it. “If you had asked who’d be the best lover,” you pause to look at the cook. “I’d probably say Sanji.”

Your eyes slide over to Usopp next, ignoring Sanji's reaction. “If you asked who’d be the most adventurous…” you laugh, catching his gaze. “The answer would definitely be Usopp.” Usopp’s eyes widened and looked away.

“But you didn’t ask those things. You asked who’d be the best. Which has to be between Zoro and Luffy.” The group is still silent, and your eyes slide lazily to Zoro, who is returning your gaze with a glare. It’s getting hard to ignore the pain of Luffy’s hands digging into your side, his silent plea for you to stop talking, but you still continue on.

“It’d be close, but objectively, I think it would be Zoro. But…” you pause for a second, your eyes returning to Nami. “If you asked me who I want to fuck the most, the answer would obviously be Luffy.”

At the mention of his name in that context, Luffy’s grip finally loosens on you. Everyone is staring at you in disbelief of such a bold statement, still unable to speak. You wait a beat before laughing at them all. “Well, I think that’s a good note for me to end on.” You peel Luffy’s arms off of you and stand up. “I’m off to bed.”

Luffy, with no ounce of shame in his bones, stands up before you even make it through the door. “Yeah, uh, me too!” He bounds off after you. “Goodnight!”

As soon as he’s through the door, he reaches out to grab you and pull you back to him. You don’t even have time to react before his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair.

“Luffy-” you pull away from his kiss gasping for air, but are instantly pulled into another one before you can finish your sentence.

“I’m gonna prove you wrong,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m gonna prove that I’m the best at all those things.”

Law

Word count: 950

“Okay, flip them!”

You turn your card on the table that you’re kneeling in front of. Two of spades. You look around, praying not to find a match.

“Two of spades! The captain has a two of spades!” Bepo is looking back and forth between the two of you. Your eyes cut across to Law, looking equally as unenthused as he is.

“Who has the highest card?”

Ikkaku calls out “I have a queen,” and you feel relief. Until you hear a snicker from across the room that implies she’s been beat.

“I have a king.” You groan as Shachi flashes the card. There’s no way this man is going to go easy on you two. “Y/N has to sit on the captain’s lap for the rest of the game…or thirty minutes. Whichever is last.”

Law scowls at his crew member. “No way. Captain veto.”

“You can’t veto on game night!” Shachi reminds him, and Law curses under his breath. Your face is warm, and the table in front of you has become very interesting in the past 30 seconds.

“Get over here, y/n-ya.” You flinch at his directness, but get up and walk to his side of the table. “Sorry about all this,” he mutters to you, as he moves into a criss-cross seated position to accommodate for your new punishment.

“I don’t blame you,” you say, taking a seat in his lap. “I blame Shachi.” You stick your tongue out at your crew mate, but he only winks at you in return.

Law is the kind of person who completely ignores the fact that this is happening. He doesn’t necessarily avoid touching you, but he doesn’t go out of his way to do it either. You all continue to play the game as you normally would, just in the space of each other rather than separately.

You can feel his body tighten whenever you move or shift against him. You can’t see his face, but every time you move to readjust yourself, there’s someone calling out, “What’s wrong, Captainnnn? Why’s your face so red??”

You lose again, and while the winner is trying to make up a punishment, Law excuses him to use the bathroom. Shachi refuses to let him go, and you can feel Law twitch in irritation behind you. “I just have to piss, I’ll come right back!” Shachi’s eyes slide to you, still seated on the ground, and that mischievous grin of his reappears. “Fine, Captain. I’ll make an exception for you this once.”

As soon as Law leaves, Shachi is next to Clione in an instant, whispering in his ear. A similar grin begins to mirror on Clione’s face as Shachi whispers his elaborate plan. “Y/N, you have to flirt with the captain.” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open at their cruelty. You hadn’t told anyone about your blooming feelings for the Captain yet. There’s no way they could know, and yet they somehow did. Shachi sees your horror, and delightfully adds “Really lay it on thick, too! I want obvious flirting! Just once.”

“I’m so sorry about this, Y/N-ya.” Law apologizes again as he sits down, and you’re not sure why he’s the one who's sorry. (Really, Law is apologizing because Shachi knows that he has a crush on you and Shachi loves to meddle. Law vows to never tell another soul anything personal again after today.)

You lock eyes for a second with Shachi, who is waving you on discreetly. “Oh, it’s really not so bad, Captain.” You laugh and turn yourself sideways so you can see his face better. You place your arms around his neck and look into his eyes, which are wide with confusion and shock. “It’s almost more comfortable than…”

The phrase getting lost in his eyes suddenly makes sense to you. You’ve never noticed how intricate his eyes were, like layers of golden flecks rather than one solid color. Even down here in the submarine with harsh luminescent lighting, they shine in a way you didn’t think was humanly possible. “Um…”

The entire crew starts laughing, and your face turns a deep red. You quickly unclasp your hands from his neck and turn around, facing the table again. All of the confidence you just had was completely washed away with one look from your captain.

“Hey, Y/N-ya, are you okay?” His voice is soft and warm, and you can feel a hand rest on your shoulder, trying to get you to turn back to him again. “I’m fine! Sorry about that, captain.” Instead of turning back to him, you look for Shachi, who smirks and holds up a thumbs up. It could’ve gone better, but you’ll take it.

Law is absolutely perplexed by the scene you just made, but he didn’t hate it. He just wished the two of you were alone when you had done it so it would have lasted longer. He shoots a glare across the rest of his subordinates, who are still laughing at your alls interaction. “Quiet down. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You all sit awkwardly for the rest of your sentence. You sit straight up in his lap, and he stays more leaned back away. Law definitely thinks that he’s the one who made you uncomfortable and wants to give you as much space as possible for the rest of the time.

I'm so sorry Law stans there is no NSFW for him because there is no way this man is making a move on you after one little moment or letting Shachi take all the credit for you guys getting together. This would be a PAINFULLY slow burn. (but if someone requests a followup to this or any of these pieces I wouldn’t be opposed 👀 )

Law’s NSFW portion is up here!!!

6K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park.

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street.

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel."

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection.

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot.

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder.

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes.

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over.

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted."

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again.

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe.

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road.

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'.

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too.

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work.

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?"

"Okay," she echoes.

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue.

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make.

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'.

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him.

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand.

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable."

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare.

"Yes, you are."

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body."

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving."

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically.

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms.

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options.

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet.

You're daunted.

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question."

"I don't know. Without?"

"You are so weird," he says happily.

You pout and pull Junie closer.

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two.

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone.

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection.

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?"

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him.

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone.

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you?

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?"

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness.

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs."

"Don't tempt me."

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping.

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation.

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?"

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow.

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-"

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness.

"I guess she's old enough."

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should.

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces."

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you.

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly.

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke.

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down.

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it."

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing.

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers.

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently.

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb.

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw.

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing.

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog.

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble.

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!"

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated.

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath.

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper.

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?"

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another.

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted.

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos."

"I saw."

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?"

"Subtle."

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson."

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold.

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?"

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound.

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers.

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap.

"Why?" Junie asks.

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?"

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her.

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant.

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle.

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed.

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy.

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears.

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV."

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour."

"No," she whines softly.

He covers her unhappy face with his hand.

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear."

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better.

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly.

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through.

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed.

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted.

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me."

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air.

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine.

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat.

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something.

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to.

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks."

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts.

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you."

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie.

He knows it for a fact.

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face.

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!"

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea.

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside.

Junie lifts her flushed face.

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet.

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings.

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?"

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention.

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers.

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime.

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy.

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh.

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are.

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep.

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking.

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?"

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid.

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred.

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt.

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake.

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all.

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me."

"What?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants."

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares."

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder.

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie.

She raises both arms.

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks.

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired."

"You're alright to walk out to the car?"

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts.

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you.

It's a cool, crisp night outside.

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating?

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road.

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick.

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes."

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water."

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special."

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door.

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head."

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say.

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car.

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head.

You're staring at him as he opens the door.

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?"

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?"

"Kiss it better?"

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion.

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted.

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright.

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially.

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side.

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt.

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here."

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her.

"Eddie?" you ask.

He turns. You look miserable.

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression.

"Thank you."

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog."

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous."

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur.

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love.

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap.

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues.

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything."

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg.

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg.

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully.

"I should go home."

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear.

"Can you hug me?" you ask.

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation.

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine."

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me."

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?"

"Ow," you whine.

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts."

"Why's everybody always on top of me?"

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?"

"No!"

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it."

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug.

"I'm not sitting in your lap."

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest.

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden.

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone.

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in.

Long minutes of quiet hugs.

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried."

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart.

"I wasn't," you say.

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page.

You get really, really sick.

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle.

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend."

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home.

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said.

And now here he is again the day after.

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say.

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks.

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes."

"This is just something I had lying around."

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head.

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-"

"That is in terrible taste."

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think."

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts."

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently.

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption."

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves.

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV.

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks.

You grin to yourself.

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June."

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to.

"Fun," she says.

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you."

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown.

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry.

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment.

"Don't baby me."

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head."

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight."

"What does she want for dinner tonight?"

"Boo! Exactly my point."

"I'm gonna go ask her-"

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave."

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word.

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything.

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to.

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now.

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing."

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious."

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-"

"Mild-"

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!"

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party."

"I promised."

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?"

"You can't."

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday."

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do."

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman."

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me."

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot."

"Name-calling."

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?"

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move."

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin.

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls.

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close.

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much.

"Freckle."

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends.

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry."

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff."

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard.

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it."

"I said, 'You're an-"

"Amazing friend and confidante?"

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?"

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said."

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat.

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands.

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws.

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash.

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-"

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper.

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life."

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on.

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face.

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes.

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish."

"Eddie…"

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar."

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs.

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious.

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up.

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely.

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length.

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression.

"Mis'd," she says.

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully.

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms.

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?"

"You're not very convincing."

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender.

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue.

"She might've. You tell her enough."

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic."

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain.

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck.

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time."

"Mommy," she says into your neck.

"That's me."

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts.

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing.

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist.

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please."

"Thank you."

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-"

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-"

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me."

"What does that mean? Of course I did."

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie.

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?"

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin.

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?"

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity.

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles.

You and Junie wave him off.

"To work?" Junie asks.

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?"

"To work?"

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now."

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you.

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow.

But apparently he's coming back tonight.

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock.

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair.

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention.

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said.

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne."

"You don't wanna be here."

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do."

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know."

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?"

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb."

"You keep saying that."

"You keep being dumb, boy."

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat.

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning.

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle.

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence.

"Hot shower," you explain.

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features.

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence.

Eddie's better than okay.

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it.

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy."

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot."

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero."

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes.

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now."

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth.

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend."

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face.

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it."

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of."

"Even murderers?"

"Maybe not murderers-"

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?"

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject."

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you."

"You do."

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be."

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall.

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he asks.

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning.

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe."

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?"

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is."

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften.

"What if I was?" you ask.

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone.

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast.

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt.

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer.

"You're so fucking pretty," he says.

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap.

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose.

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp.

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone.

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy.

"I'll make you sick."

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat.

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes.

You don't answer.

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch.

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close.

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears.

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own.

You have to feel it.

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully.

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever.

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does.

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough.

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters.

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt.

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly.

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything."

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes.

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart.

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips.

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore.

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head.

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that."

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous.

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter.

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic.

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you."

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good.

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips.

"What?"

"I…"

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me."

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly.

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back.

"Just wanted to do that," you say.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #Single mom!reader #reader insert

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monstersflashlight · 5 days

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Grabbing him by the horns

Minotaur x fat fem!reader || Face sitting || Tw: internalized fatphobia

“Sit.” He instructed, his big head hanging out the edge of the bed, his horns almost hitting the ground. He looked so good naked and sprawled on your bed, his dick so big, already leaking as he looked at you.

It took you forever to be comfortable being naked around him, your rolls and fat being a big source of awkwardness for you. He insisted you were perfect, he made you feel like you were. He kissed your big tummy, he loved to mark your thighs with love-bites… He loved worshiping you like a goddess. And you believed him, you felt like a goddess around him.

But some topics were difficult to deal with. You still insisted on being always under him, and don’t get it wrong, you loooooooved being under him, his weight almost too much as he pounded you in every position possible. But you weren’t so sure about being on top, much else sitting on his face. He loved your pussy, he could spend hours and hours making out with it as you moaned, groaned and screamed his name for everyone to hear…

“No. I’ll crush you.” You argued. Your anxiety was getting worse as he talked. You wanted to be intimate, everything was going great until he mentioned he wanted you to sit on his face.

“You will not. Are you questioning my strength?” He looked offended. Ouch.

“No. Nothing like that, I’m just too heavy.” You insisted, trying to cover yourself as you talked, feeling naked in a non sexy way.

He let out a slow breath, looking at you with the softest eyes. “Little mate, if you keep saying you are too heavy I’ll spank your ass until you can’t walk so I have to carry you everywhere.” The image of you ass up, face down as he spanked you sparked a new wave of desire inside of you. But you couldn’t do it. What if you hurt him?

“I-” You tried to argue again but he wouldn’t let you.

“Sit.” He repeated, his words final.

The fear of breaking hurting him still very present inside of you. But you approached him, slowly. As soon as you were at arms reach, he was pulling you to him, forcing your legs open and turning you around so you could look at the mirror across the room. You hovered over his face, trying not to sit directly on him. He grunted, sending vibrations through your thighs, making your knees go weak. But you held your ass above his face, trying to erase some of the weight.

“You are gonna suffocate.” You warned him, anxiety filling you once again.

“Then I’ll die happy.” He said, his lips millimeters away from your pussy. And then he grabbed your hips, no preamble, no finesse. He grabbed your hips and pushed you down until your full weight was on top of his face. Your pussy over his open mouth, your clit rubbing against his nose.

Then there were no more words, no more reassurances, he drove right in. The first contact between his lips and your pussy made you quiver, and that was just the start. Before you could think about what he was doing, he was making out with your pussy, eating you out like you were the last meal on earth and he was a starving man. Or minotaur in this case.

Your hands traveled to his horns without you realizing it, grabbing onto them for dear life as his hands moved your hips as he pleased. You were on top, but he was the one guiding every one of your movements, making sure you couldn’t get away, making sure your thighs pressed the sides of his head and your pussy made contact with every part of his mouth.

He kept eating you out like he wasn’t in a hurry, like he was just enjoying the feel of you on top of him. But you? You felt desperate, your orgasm just out of reach, just a bit more and you’d get there. But he was playing with you, he was toying with your pussy like it was the best hobby he had. So you took control, the desperation inside of you so big and so fierce you couldn’t let him control the movements anymore. Your hands on is horns helped you guide him towards that little bundle of nerves. He laughed against your flesh and complied, sucking on your clit as you trashed over him. Your pussy making obscene noises as you coated his face on your fluids. Your orgasm hit you like a tide wave, making you scream his name as he kept going. And going. And going.

“Stop. Too much.” You begged, your pussy oversensitive.

He gave you one last long lick as he lifted you off his face, pulling you over him like his own personal blanket. His dick pushing against your lower tummy as you rested your head against his chest, breathing hard.

“We are doing that again as soon as you recover.” He sentenced, no place for arguments.

“Okay…” You whispered, too spent to fight him anymore.

#minotaur husband #monster #monster x human #minotaur #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster x reader #monster imagine #minotaur x reader #minotaur x human

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usereddie · 27 days

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buck knows it can't be that big of a surprise to anyone, not really. not when he's only ever laughed at the jokes, never corrected anybody. he's half dreading it, telling the team. they're his family. they mean everything in the world to him, but, god, what if they knew. what if they knew all along this part of him that was too dark to look at, the dusty corner of the attic no one ever even shines a flashlight on in fear of what they'll find. it's not that buck decided to shine a flashlight, either. it was more like watching eddie smile at tommy and laugh at his (frankly very unfunny, thanks) joke made the whole room flood with bright, fluorescent light. it was kind of impossible to keep his eyes from drifting to it. to that attraction that was always there, always buzzing just under the surface of his skin.

sometimes he wonders if all the scrapes and cuts and scars, all the time he purposefully threw his body against the asphalt weren't just to get his parents attention. maybe he thought if he could give it a way out, the thrumming would leave and his heart would settle.

he spent an hour this morning and two hours last staring at himself in the mirror, repeating the word over and over and over. he spent the night before last avoiding his reflection altogether, terrified he wouldn't recognize the man looking back.

like it's some shocking revelation, this, and not the slow build of realization that's been coming for as long as he can remember.

and that's the thing, right? because buck can't blame his friends if they all laugh and pat him on the back and say i knew it, because it's not like he was totally unaware either. purposefully ignorant? yes. oblivious, though?

probably not as much as maddie might think.

his plan is to not say anything. to hold the word close to his chest for as long as possible but it's like his friends have fucking phd's in how to read him and his body language, and they're gently poking and prodding and pleading for him to open up.

hen's eyes are brighter than normal and chimney's smile is earnest and bobby's got his 'caring dad' face on and eddie's so beautiful when he smiles at him encouragingly he almost screams.

the words spill out before he can stop them. i'm bi. buck's eyes screw shut.

a hand falls lands on top of his, fingers squeezing. when he looks up, hen is grinning, and, jesus fuck, she looks so proud of him. buck didn't consider that as a possibility. that people would look at him with pride. that they'd thank him for his vulnerability, for trusting them, that he'd get pulled into teary eyed hugs. it's not some sort of new phenomenon — evan buckley assuming the worst — but it catches him off guard more than it usually does.

eddie hangs back. buck feels his absence like someone carved the emptiness out of him. he's on edge, a weird, jittery distance between the two of them for the rest of the shift. buck doesn't run into the fire without gear and let the flames overtake him but it's a near thing. eddie keeps looking at him, though. like there are words he doesn't know how to form and it makes something bubble in his chest. not quite hope because buck's not foolish enough to assume eddie would ever want him like that. the way buck's starting to realize he does.

and, oh god, does he.

but then the day ends and buck's lacing up his sneakers in the locker room and eddie's dressed but he's lingering, checking his watch thirty times in a minute. chimney heads out, pats on their backs, a wink and wide smile in buck's direction. buck gets up, throws his bag over his shoulder.

eddie stutters in his movements like he doesn't know if he's gonna allow himself to follow through with them, but then strong arms are wrapping themselves around buck, holding him so tight it almost feels like he can't breathe.

somehow, inexplicably, it also feels like he's exhaling for the first time.

"i'm proud of you, buck. i love you, you know that?" eddie says as they pull away, words a little awkward with their disuse but so genuine his heart twists painfully in his chest.

yeah, buck wants to say. almost does. but not how i want you to.

#this was supposed to be a normal text post btw #unfortunately i'm incapable of being even remotely well adjusted about this show #so enjoy #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 spec #bia.fic

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

Text

Snow

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first snow

You're dressed in the cutest snow suit possible with little black booties that make it very difficult for you to walk but you look like a marshmallow and Pernille thinks that's adorable.

"Okay," She says to you, zipping up the suit and shoving a green Wolfsburg beanie on your head.

You're still very little but you can walk now so Pernille takes your hand tight in her own and swings the door open.

It reached freezing last night and a large layer of snow covers the ground. You've never seen snow before and it makes you all wiggly in excitement.

You grunt out your frustration of Pernille still holding your hand. You kind of want to touch the white stuff. It's annoying you that Momma isn't letting you do it.

She laughs slightly before falling back. You fall on top of her, your movement made awkward by the layers of clothes she's dressed you in.

"This is snow, princesse," She explains to you, picking up some of the powdery white stuff and letting you touch it.

It's cold and it's a little crunchy under your hands. You grab a handful and smush it together. You know that it's really cold because you're wearing mittens and you can still feel it.

You kind of like the feeling and you move to high-five the ground while you giggle hysterically.

Momma laughs with you before flopping down properly and moving her legs and arms.

"It's a snow angel," She says before repeating the words in Danish, Swedish and German.

Pernille's trying to bring you up multilingual. She's not entirely sure if it's working but she's trying. She speaks just Danish in the house with you, a combination of German and English when outside and then Swedish when Magda's on the phone.

She hopes it isn't too confusing for you but, to be honest, you're not really paying attention to her right now, too focussed on sticking your hands in the snow and throwing it around.

"Snow angel," Pernille repeats just in case you passively take it in, repeating it firmly in all languages before helping you sit so you can one too.

Your clothes stop a lot of your motions so it looks a lot more like a blob than anything else but you seem happy enough with it, reaching down to swipe more snow.

"Hey, no," Pernille says quickly when it looks like you're going to put the snow in your mouth," We don't eat it. It's not food."

You stare blankly at her and move to put your snow covered mittens back in your mouth.

Pernille laughs as she pulls your hand away. You look a little annoyed at that but she distracts you easily by throwing a little heap of snow at your belly. You look down at where she's hit you, shocked like you never even thought that this was something you could do.

You touch the front of your suit with a little open mouth. You clumsily lean down to scoop up your own pile and throw it right at Pernille's face. Your aim is a little off though and it just spatters against her chest.

Pernille laughs and throws more at you.

You decide that this is a fun game and grapple to get more. None of them are ever made into proper snowballs, more like little handfuls of powder than anything else. There isn't much force in your throws either but Pernille plays along, letting every hit make her fall flat on her back and pretend to be wounded.

You must find this incredibly funny because you giggle hysterically every time she does so before flopping on top of her to check that she's just playing around and you haven't actually hurt her.

You roll around in the snow with her a few more times, making your blob-shaped snow angels but your head snaps up when a voice you recognise speaks.

"Well, don't you look all nice and cosy as a marshmallow?"

You don't understand all her words but you recognise the voice. You try to get up quickly but Momma's dressed you in lots of clothes so you fall straight onto your back.

You whine, holding your arms up.

Morsa pops up in your vision and immediately takes you into her arms, holding you nice and close like you love.

Pernille watches on, dusting herself off before wandering closer. "You're early. I thought you said that your flight wasn't until this afternoon."

"I got on an earlier one," Magda replies, still holding you against her body," I missed you both."

"We missed you too," Pernille says, pressing a kiss to her partner's lips softly.

"How has she been?" Magda asks," Good?"

"Like an angel."

"I can see that." Magda tilts her head to the you-shaped blobs on the snow. "But she's looking a little cold. How about we go back inside and warm up?"

Magda doesn't wait for an argument and leads the charge back inside. You seem especially happy when she strips you of all your layers and lets you walk around with your little toy walker.

It's with practised precision that Magda whips up two hot chocolates for her and Pernille that they drink while you wander about on your wobbly little legs.

At some point, you end up holding Magda's knee and try to climb up onto her. She has to put her drink to the side to pick you up. You lean forward to leave a breathy kind of kiss on her cheek before you completely crash out on her chest.

Magda fondly pushes your hair out of your face, soothed by the soft puffs of your breathing against her collarbone.

"She's exhausted," Pernille says, throwing Magda the baby blanket to wrap you in," I think she got a bit too excited about the snow."

"There's no such thing as too excited," Magda denies, wrapping you up nice and tight. She bites at her lip and glances down the hall to where your crib is waiting for you.

"Don't," Pernille warns as if she senses Magda's thought process," She goes down in the crib for naps, you know this."

Magda pouts. "Oh, Pernille, please? I haven't seen her in so long-"

"Literally last week."

"-Can't you let me keep her a little longer?"

Pernille sighs with such a strong eye roll that it's a wonder that they don't permanently get stuck in her skull. "Fine but you're in charge of dinner with her tonight. She can get you all messy instead of me."

Magda doesn't really care about that though as she tightens her grip ever so slightly to make you more secure. She adjusts her positioning so she's lying down with her feet in Pernille's lap and you're properly laying on her.

"You're going to stay right here," She whispers," Right here with Morsa."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 6 months

Text

You teach Ghost a new skill

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader

WARNINGS: smut || 18+ only MDNI ||

A/N: ...it's so horny...

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

____

It’s been a long evening, and you’re tired. Wrung out.

And so your first instinct (governed solely by delirious tiredness at this point) is to laugh at Ghost’s words. Not because they’re funny, but because they’re—quite literally—unbelievable. You look from him to Johnny, and then back to him, before your smile falters and falls entirely. Oh fuck, he’s serious.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never eaten pussy.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. “Lt…I’m finding that very hard to believe.”

“Believe what y’want, Sergeant.”

Usually, Johnny would intervene, ever the peace-maker between the two of you. But not tonight. Tonight he just watches the two of you, his baby blues brighter and wider than usual as they swing between the two of you as though he’s watching a tennis match.

“So…what? You want to try?”

“Mm.”

“You want me to…show you what I like. While you’re going down on me.”

Ghost looks at you like you’re an idiot, which, in his defence, is how he looks at everyone.

You’re not entirely sure what to do, so you look to Johnny for help. What the fuck, you mouth at him, and only when you hear a rumble from Ghost do you turn back to him.

“Okay…yeah. Fine. Okay, fine.” You giggle nervously. “Can Johnny show you? He knows what I like.” When you glance over at Johnny, he’s helpful as ever—nodding sagely at your words.

He does know what you like, after all.

Ghost only crosses his arms over his chest, and the whole thing makes him look bigger. More intimidating. He takes up more room like this, and you may have even called it posturing, except you know that it isn’t. There is neither the need nor the expectation of posturing between the three of you.

“Take your clothes off,” Ghost orders, and you scramble to obey immediately. (Hours in the future from this moment, you’ll think about how they’re the last coherent words he says for a while. What a man your mighty Lieutenant is, commendable in the absolute dedication and discipline he shows in learning a new craft.)

You watch them as they watch you strip. You take your time with it—too awkward to make it sexy for them, but enjoying how their eyes greedily linger on the skin your fingertips brush. They make you feel sexy with just their eyes on you, and at one point, you watch with a sly smile on your face as Johnny touches himself through his trousers. Just the one hard tug, and his resultant raspy exhale has white-hot arousal coursing through your veins.

They don’t undress, they don’t even move from their positions, really, and you suppose there are worse things than being the main course for the evening. When you’re finally bare, Johnny seems to lurch out of his trance and reaches out to you, gently pulling you by your hand into the bed. And finally, finally, when Johnny kisses you, you can relax into the whole thing. A contradiction to be sure, but you’ve never felt as relaxed as you do when you pull away from him, gasping for air.

Ghost is at your back, mask off, warm breath at the nape of your neck. “Don’t stop on my account, Sergeants.”

It’s hardly a big ask, and you go back eagerly for seconds, latch on to Johnny’s lips while his hands roam the sides of your body. There’s a comfort in the familiarity of his touch, and you’re left wondering when you’ll have that with both of them.

So it does come as quite a surprise when (in almost a physical manifestation of your inner thoughts) you feel Ghost’s arms reach out and tug your own behind your back. You think nothing of it, though, too mesmerised by being the world’s luckiest girl in that moment—trapped in between two men, one making love to your mouth, the other determined to make you flood your panties by just kissing the back of your neck.

You only barely register Ghost’s movements behind you, hands on your shoulders tugging you backwards into him with care until you’re lying on your back. The ease with which Johnny moves with you, using his elbows to support his body weight above you, makes you feel like they’ve planned something for you.

But you know that’s not true. You know that you can’t plan a calamity.

Johnny’s attention moves from your lips to your cheeks to your jaw, while you’ve got your head in Ghost’s lap, who runs eager, gentle hands over your breasts, your belly, your arms—and you can’t help but sigh with how languid and loose you feel right now. And, almost as if in response, the lizard part of your hind-brain whispers to you about how nice and safe and warm it feels between the two men, being taken care of by them, being spoiled by them.

They don’t seem in any particular hurry, and so when you cheekily guide Ghost’s hand towards your pussy and he resists, you don’t think anything of it. But of course, it makes Johnny look up at Ghost and freeze and all the action stops and you want to whine, protest, make your displeasure known in some way, but you don’t get the opportunity. Ghost shifts, cradling your head before putting it gently down on the bed, leaning closer and closer and oh.

Kissing Ghost is so different from kissing Johnny. When Johnny kisses you, it feels like your spine melts, and you’re left a puddle under eager, enthusiastic fingers. But Ghost is not Johnny.

No, kissing Ghost makes you feel like you’re a bee trying to hold your own against a hurricane. Try as hard as you want, but the hurricane doesn’t care. The hurricane barrels through, stopped by nothing and no one, not swayed in the slightest by your courage or endeared to your foolishness.

Except Ghost isn’t just a hurricane.

He’s your superior officer, he’s a man you work with, a man you work for, a man you trust in more ways than one, a man who's got both your arms pinned above you. He coaxes you to let him explore your mouth, urges you to open up to him, and god do you let him.

So engrossed are you that you don’t even notice the distinct sound of the locking zip ties on your wrists until your body jerks up, and you find that your arms have been bound above your head. “Ghost! Wh—”

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I’ve got ya, yer’alright, pet. Hush.”

You hush. When your eyes meet Johnny’s, he’s looking at you with the same steady gaze he gives you in the middle of the battlefield, a look that says it’s alright and you’ve got this and I won’t let anything happen to you. So you relax and when Johnny climbs back up your body to kiss you again, you let your kiss sum up your trust in him. He squeezes your right hip, something he’s done a thousand times before you remind you that you’re safe with him, and the final vestiges of apprehension drain out of you.

“Sitrep?” Johnny murmurs, and it makes you smile against his mouth.

“Living,” you answer immediately, and it makes Ghost exhale roughly.

But you know why, you think. You can step outside of your body for a second, see what Ghost sees. Your naked body in bed—in his bed—Johnny hovering over you, his clothed cock right over your pussy that throbs from the lack of attention.

You break your kiss with Johnny and he turns to look at your Lieutenant. “You ready for your lesson, Lt?”

It always jars you, how quickly Ghost moves. He’s surprisingly agile, even with how big he is, especially with how big he is, but he’s kneeling on the floor in a second, hands running over your calves, the back of your thighs and finally coming to a rest on your hips. The whole time, though, his eyes haven’t left your pussy, and it makes you squirm. You feel too warm just from his attention, and neither of them have even touched you between your legs yet.

“Now the first lesson is…” Soap uses his middle finger to touch your slit, and then immediately drops it, slides it over your completely, unbearably, slick, hot, neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” Ghost spits and Johnny hums in approval. You’re pretty sure you’re about to snap your jaw off its hinges from how tight you’ve got it clutched it shut. “You hafta see how the bonnie lass is doin,’ alrate? Check if you’ve been kissin’ her all nice and sweet, just how she likes it.”

Johnny continues to touch you, but warm fingers, bigger, rougher, more calloused, find your clit. Ghost touches your clit in small, slow circles, and fuck. You’re bucking your hips into it slightly because you can’t help yourself. You close your eyes and squeeze them shut, because god, you can all hear how obscenely wet you are right now. “See now how wet our lass is jus’ from hearin’ us talking about eatin’ that cunt? That’s what you want, Lt,” Johnny instructs.

It makes you gasp raggedly, feeling like you’ve run a marathon but no. All you’ve done is lay there, while they masturbate you with just two fingers but every coherent thought has already left your brain and you’re left wondering if you really will lose your mind and have a heart attack by the end of the night.

“Now here’s a little tip, Ghost,” Johnny says hoarsely, and brings his finger still shiny-wet with your slick up to Ghost’s face. There’s no hesitation as Ghost wraps his mouth around Johnny’s finger effortlessly. You’re breathing hard with your mouth slightly open in apprehension, because if they say anything to you right now, you will literally pass out. Johnny’s face lights up at the lack of thought Ghost seems to give in making out with Johnny’s finger, and he pushes in closer and closer to Ghost until they’re the ones kissing.

And god. You see the hint of tongues and they look so damn lost in each other, but they don’t stop touching you. But goddammit you want their attention on you tonight. You whine a little, squirm and pull against the zip ties that bind your wrists to the bedpost, but Ghost’s warm, steady hand on your thigh stops you. Be good, it seems to say. Be good and endure. So you do.

When they break apart, Ghost’s quick smirk at you feels like your reward.

“You…you can put your finger inside me, Ghost. It’s—I’d really like that,” you say meekly. You have not once in your life been meek with Ghost and Johnny chuckles slowly.

“Ach, I’m givin’ the instructions tonight, love. Here,” he says, motioning so Ghostcan replace Johnny’s fingers on your slit with his own. “Go on, then, Lt.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “It’s where she’s the warmest…wettest too. And she’d like it,” he adds, only slightly mocking you, and you laugh breathily.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost croaks, and a tremor runs down your spine when he follows Johnny’s instructions. It’s like your pussy hears him, floods his fingers, throbs a hot, wicked rhythm against them. “Y’might be right, Johnny.” Ghost diligently avoids our clit, running a curious finger over the length of your cunt, then feeling out the tight muscle there, pushing in slowly, slowly. Gently enough to open you up on his finger.

“Good fuckin’ god, ain’t that a sight,” Johnny breathes, and you clench your fingers in a fist because you need something, anything to relieve the pressure you feel right now. It hasn’t even been that long that Johnny fucked you, a few days, maybe, but the way you open up around Ghost’s finger, you’d have thought it was weeks.

After all the build up that felt like torture, your eyes roll back into your head as you feel Ghost move his finger in and out of you, then feeling brave and adding a second. His movements are precise, a military man through and through, and his eyes never once move from your cunt. He watches the movement of his own fingers, the muscles in his bicep jumping from how controlled his movements are, and when he pulls them out and brushes them over Johnny’s lips, you can see that they’re absolutely drenched.

But fuck, they don’t even give you a moment, because Johnny has his eyes closed, allows Ghost to sink his fingers in his mouth so deep, and he kind of…slumps a bit. Relaxes into it entirely. His face goes soft and his shoulders drop and Ghost watches him with keen, sharp eyes. You’re almost convinced they’ve forgotten you’re in the room. Almost, because, almost in perfect sync, their attention turns back to you. They’re so in tune with each other, it’s ridiculous. “Boys,” you gasp. “Rude to keep a girl waiting, you know.”

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost insists, and pushes his fingers into your mouth instead. You should bite him for the audacity, but the lingering taste of your own pussy has you weak, and you suck his fingers automatically. “Be nice, pet. Or class ends here, yeah? You can be an outstanding student, while Johnny sucks my cock.” His words expose the temporary nature of your bravado, and it rushes out of you, making your spine meet the bed again. You hadn’t even realised how far you’d been arching off of it.

Johnny soothes you, though, shushing you, gentle murmurs of encouragement leaving his mouth effortlessly as two, thick fingers find their way inside you and keep you plugged. He only turns to Ghost when you’re a gasping, moaning mess. “Think you can guess wha’ comes next, Lt?”

Ghost adjusts so his face is right in front of your cunt and Johnny leans down to whisper in his ear. “...like you’re parched, and the lass offers the last drink on Earth, ye?”

Johnny continues the rocking motion of his fingers inside you while Ghost brings his mouth closer to your cunt, and just breathes there. Even that feels like too much stimulation and when Johnny uses that exact moment to curl his fingers into you in a come hither motion, your whine is loud and drawn out, eyes squeezed shut so tight, you feel a few errant tears leak out the sides.

When Ghost’s tongue makes contact with you, he doesn’t immediately latch on to your clit like you’d expected, or hoped. No, he uses his tongue to gently savour your wetness, and considering how much of it there is, you’re sure you’re feeding him mouthfuls of it, just from how close you are to coming. He finally pulls you out of your misery, though, when his tongue makes the journey to your clit, and when your hips rock upwards, he groans and rises up to chase it. The tip of his tongue swirls around your clit and down to your pussy, where Johnny’s fingers slide out slowly, so Ghost can suck them clean before they go back inside you and Ghost repeats the whole thing.

You’re only pulled out of the moment for a split second, when you notice Soap’s hand covering the nape of Ghost’s neck, holding him there against your pussy, and how Ghost lets him. It only catches your attention because of how submissive it is, how trusting, but you immediately forget why it even matters when his velvet tongue catches on your clit.

You can hardly believe what’s happening to you right now. Ghost is adjusting himself enough so your knees go effortlessly over his shoulder and you’re ludicrously exposed to him right now. The same Ghost who exercises restraint in every aspect of his life, is mean and sometimes a bully and strict and fucking scary, has got his nose grinding against your clit right now, while his tongue gathers your arousal from your slit, swallows it and goes back for more.

You feel that deep, familiar swell in the pit of your belly, and your eyes pop open in panic, because your hands are tied and you can’t even grind into Ghost’s face without any leverage, but then Johnny adds a third finger into you while Ghost sucks on your clit with persistence, and you find that you don’t need that leverage after all. You can grind into his face just fine. You turn away and bite your lip hard, but Ghost’s hand shoots up and curls around your jaw, twisting it until you’re facing them again.

You moan and Johnny coos at you in response. “Stay wi’ us, baby, stay right here,” he murmurs.

And then, all at once, you’re coming, hard. It’s almost painful, the pressure of it, the way it makes you want to kick and squeal and cry from how it makes your body curl up in on itself, your spine bowing in half. Your cry is anguished and deep and rips its way out of your throat, and you think you hear a satisfied rumble from one of your boys, but you don’t know which one. Your orgasm feels powerful and destructive and you claw at thin air, squirm and move but there’s no getting away from how encompassing it is, how fucking devastating it feels in it’s power.

You may have drenched Johnny’s fingers and Ghost’s face but you couldn’t care less right now. You hear one of them chuckle slowly, and you feel yourself gradually fall back onto the Earth. Ghost has mercifully moved his attention to the insides of your thighs now and Johnny pets your other thigh, and though their touches, any touches feel too much right now, you don’t dare move away from them.

This time, Ghost crawls up your body to kiss you, tugs at your bottom lip with his teeth, finally murmurs against your lips. “Sitrep, Sergeant?”

And you have to smile at that, because this man may hide under layers and layers, but he hides something inside him worth diving into the abyss for. “Living, Lt.” His teeth drag along the skin of your throat as he makes way for Johnny to check in on you.

And oh. Sweet Johnny’s just smiling at you, hands moving to brush back the sweaty hair at the crown of your head. “Alright, love?”

“Yeah,” you say softly, too blissed out to answer. You float on a cloud, until Johnny speaks, the smirk and mischief in his voice making your eyes shoot open in a panic.

“Last lesson of the day, Lt. Gotta clean our girl up.”

#simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost smut #soap smut #lumi writes

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teencopandthesourwolf · 9 months

Text

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.

Whatever.

There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.

The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves (not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening) plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes—who can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be happening inside of the building. Sadly, though, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle.

So.

He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.

He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.

Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.

Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.

Derek almost laughs at that.

The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.

“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of.

“I—what?” Caught off guard, always and only by Stiles.

Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.

Oh, right.

“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.

Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looks as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.

It doesn't last.

Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.

Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.

An anchor.

Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.

His heart.

“I asked because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye. Which works, of course—because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?”

Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and maybe hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out.

Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way; self-preservation and all.

“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.”

Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.

“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add (after what is undeniably too-long a pause), “And yeah. Maybe I do.”

Then they look at each other. They just—look.

Look and look and look.

And they each keep looking at the other for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.

Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

Whatever happened to self-preservation?

Something is happening and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about that.

Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.” Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, and adding with a shrug of one shoulder, “Till we're not.”

The latter part is spoken like a dark secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice—that's not how he means it. It's more of a promise than a threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like (it's been a while).

The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's, and Derek could swear he hears every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive, nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.

He feels utterly alive.

It's honestly a struggle not to whine like a pup and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because, oh, Derek would be so fucked right now.

He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.

Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit, and just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.

In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle.

He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.

Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper. “Till we're not.”

Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.

Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.

That's a lot of weird.

Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.

He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this.

He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.

Derek is memorised.

Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Everything, Der.”

for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)

#with love <3 #sterek #sterek ficlet #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #eternal sterek #sterek is eternal #everything der #for poe #peter hale #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

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kingkaizen · 6 days

Text

𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱!

∘ desc: size kink <3

∘ ft: virgin!choso

∘ includes: nsfw, size kink, dirty talk

In the heat of the moment, Choso’s incredible size didn’t seem to faze you at all. The way you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the copious amount of pre as your eyes set on his, taking in his expression as you continued. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the intense eye-contact making his eyes flutter closed every few seconds.

He’s never felt like this with anyone else, so vulnerable and exposed as you were forced to wrap two hands around the length of him all. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the groans falling from his bruised lips, a faint blush coloring his cheeks in embarrassment.

Giggling at his sheepish reaction, you pushed your hand against his large shoulder, watching as he gave in to your attempt at shoving him down against the mattress.. Climbing on top of him, his hands immediately gripped at your hips, strong and calloused fingers holding you tightly in place.

“No need to be embarrassed, Cho. You can feel how wet I am for you, can’t you?” With your hand still gripping the base of his dick, you rubbed yourself with him up and down your glistening slit, knowing he could feel the way your arousal coated his length by the way he shudders.

“F-Feels so good.” His mind was completely gone, body on cloud nine as he felt the way you split yourself on his cock. He wished he could keep his eyes on the way your head was thrown back, eyes clouded over as you struggled to take him all in. He was very aware of his size, painfully so, he couldn’t ignore the possibility of anyone pushing him away because of it. Yet, he never imagined just how much he would like the feeling of you shaking in his arms, fingernails digging crescents into his thighs as you whimpered at the sight of your greedy cunt attempting to take him all at once.

“You’re t-too big!” You squealed, yet your movements contradictory as you continued working yourself down his length, his soft moans egging you on. He felt so awkward, not knowing what to do but make pathetic sounds as he felt you tighten up more and more every second. Grabbing his hand, you guided him to your throbbing clit, urging him to rub it in tight circles just like you’ve been teaching him. He bucks his hips up as he feels you cream around him, your slick coating his entire length allowing you to slip down even further. It felt almost too good, tears welling up in his eyes as he writhed underneath you in ecstasy, holding you close to his body as he allowed himself to let go for the first time inside of you.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut

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flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

Note

Hi, it says your requests are open! Can I request a nsfw scenario for Giyuu and his crush going to a public bath house, and the receptionist mistakes them for a couple so they have to share a bath.. hehe.. and he gets a boner and tries to hide it?

thanks and feel free to ignore im kind of embarrassed aaaa

AAAAA THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN! Thank you for being my very first ask! I hope you enjoy!

I'll try to work on the other asks tomorrow too! Thank you so much!

NSFW under the cut...

Bathing with Giyuu 💦

You've traveled with the water hashira long enough to know when his quiet stoicism slips into panicked silence.

To the uninitiated, Giyuu's facial expression is one of dead calm, but his deep blue eyes give away far more than he realizes, and right now he's shitting himself.

"It'll be fine," you sigh, standing shivering in your yukata. It's morning and the sun has barely begun to warm the world up. "I won't peek. We'll just bathe, get out, and never speak of this again."

You're mostly trying to assure him, but there is a little part of you that's nervous too. It's just a simple mixup; the lady running the bathhouse just mistook you for a married couple and sent you to the same private onsen. And if the pair of you weren't so damn introverted you could probably have the mistake rectified fairly quickly, but the thought of the awkwardness and the apologies... no this is somehow simpler.

Giyuu is already in the bath, submerged up to his shoulders, the steam and clear water doing very little to obscure his… everything.

He sighs as you shiver and says flatly, "Fine. Get in. But if you tell anyone about this, especially the other hashira…"

"My lips are sealed… turn around."

He does as you ask, turning his back and lowering himself until his chin is touching the water. He stares at the rocks surrounding the edge pool as if they're the most interesting thing in the world.

Your heart races as you slip off your yukata and leave it hanging from a nearby tree. As desperate as you are for this bath, and as much as you tried to brush it off, it is a little weird to be naked with Giyuu.

You quickly get into the water. It only reaches your bellybutton, but you can crouch and fully submerge your body just like he's doing. "Okay, I'm in."

You expect his shoulders to relax but if anything they get more tense. What little you can see of his face is bright red. "Ugh this was a bad idea."

"It's fine! Come on Giyuu, we've been traveling and fighting demons for days without a break. Everything hurts. I need this bath. If it's so awful sharing with me then you can always get out."

He shakes his head firmly, still looking away. "No. Absolutely not."

"Okay well… let's not make a big deal out of it." It is pretty fun to annoy him so you tease a little. "We're just two unmarried friends, bathing together…naked. Nothing weird about it."

He brings his hand out of the water to pinch the bridge of his nose. You brace yourself for his exasperated reprimand, but in the same heartbeat as he opens his mouth to speak you hear something. You sense movement behind you.

He hears it too and the pair of you instinctively stand, both on high alert. After days of fighting for your lives against demons, neither one of you can fully relax yet. It takes a moment to realize it's daytime. The demons are all hiding from the sun. You're safe. Your yukata just slipped down from the tree branch.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you turn your head to face him. "Probably just a squirr- oh god!!"

You're naked. He's naked. The water is waist deep on you but he's taller…

And God, he's rock-fucking-hard.

He doesn't speak. He just releases a panicked grunt, attempts to cover himself with both hands, fails to conceal it fully, and dips down to hide beneath the water.

And you just freeze as your heart lunges against your ribs. That image is burned into your mind forever; his lean, muscular body… the way it curved. The veins…

"Sit down!" He says finally.

You bring up your arm to cover your tits. "Oh! Right."

As you submerge your body in the water. You're facing each other, both bright red, unable to make eye contact. Your heart is racing and you're pretty sure his must be too.

You're the first to break, your eyes sliding across to him. The corner of your mouth tugs upward.

"Not a word," he whispers.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Giyuu's eyes flicker to you and then away again.

You can't hold it anymore. A laugh sputters out of you. "We're so ridiculous."

His well-practiced stoicism starts to falter, and a faint smile curves his lips. "Yeah. We are, aren't we?"

It feels good to laugh; days of tension and exhaustion slip away, rising with the steam of the onsen. And it feels even better to laugh with him.

#giyuu tomioka #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu smut #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #kny fanfic #tomioka x y/n #kimetsu no yaiba tomioka #demon slayer tomioka #tomioka giyū

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michelle-is-writing · 2 months

Text

Doubt, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1k~

I've noticed Spencer avoiding me lately and looking rather sad. He doesn't reject me when I give him attention, but its almost as if he never returns the favor. I commonly see him reading a book for a few minutes before losing focus or interest in the work of literature and putting it down with a sigh. It's unusual for Spencer to lose interest in something so quickly, and it's strange for Spencer to not talk to me as much as he usually would.

After returning from a day of work at the BAU, Spencer does what he usually does and places his bag beside the door along with his shoes before stripping off his coat and hanging it up. Walking over to me, he plops down on the couch beside me and plops his head beside my legs. Happy to see him, I smile at down him, moving my hand to lightly drag my finger across his cheek. He doesn't smile at this, but he doesn't pull away from my touch either. This is my moment to ask him.

"Spence, baby," I say his name, causing him to glance up at me. "Are you okay?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. "You haven't been your usual self, and I'm kind of worried."

Staring up at me, Spencer stays quiet for several seconds before sighing and answering me. "I'm okay, yes," he answers, sitting up. "I've just... I've just had a few things on my mind lately," With his back facing me, I move closer to him before wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into me, his head laying back on my shoulder.

"Then tell me," I say to him, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Spencer shakes his head in a way that says he doesn't think it's a big deal; we've been dating for so long that we know what each other's movements mean. I know when he purses his lips and shakes his head that he doesn't think something is a big deal. I also know that when Spencer's eyes stare straight ahead instead of meeting mine that he's afraid to tell me something, or he's a bit hesitant in what he's about to say. Even though he's doing all of these, I don't stop asking him until he finally sighs and begins to speak, his voice low.

"I'm not good enough for you," Spencer tells me, making me a little confused. "I can't do a lot of things with you like travel or take you on planned dates without stupid work cutting in," he sighs, closing his eyes. "Besides, I'm never home with you for more than two or three days. Not to mention I'm socially awkward and I sometimes don't know what to say... sometimes, all I can think about is how you're too good for me, and you deserve someone so, so much better."

After hearing his confession, I don't know what to say. I wait a few moments to respond as I slowly process through everything Spence just admitted. I never knew he thought this way, but now it all makes sense. The way he's avoided me for the past few days... the way he constantly apologizes for silly mistakes even though it's not that big of a deal... it all pieces together now.

"I wish you wouldn't say such lies," I finally answer him, placing my hand on the side of his face. Turning him toward me, I push my lips against his, smiling as he kisses back before pulling me into his lap and close to his chest. It's moments like these that I live for, that I dream about. I crave these moments day and night, and when they happen, nothing around me matters. All that matters is my lips on Spencer's, and his heart beating against my own.

Pulling away from the kiss, I rub my thumb against his cheek before finishing my sentence. "But you're all that I've ever wanted in my life," I continue, sighing blissfully while tears come to my eyes. "And if I'm being honest, you're perfect for me. I know that sounds selfish, but-"

Before I can keep on, Spencer's lips reattach themselves to mine again before his hands find their way into my hair. With Spencer finally making the move to kiss me after what feels like forever, I tearfully smile and wrap my arms around his neck, linking my hands together. Soon, we're both lying down on the couch with my body beneath Spencer's own perfect body.

Pulling away to breathe, Spencer smiles softly and sweetly at me, the entire room lighting up as he does so. "You're perfect for me too," He confesses, his voice gentle and calm. "I can't live without you. If you'll have me, I-I'd like to marry you one day," Spencer further concludes, making my eyes widen as everything around me comes to a halt.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" I ask, staring up at him with wide eyes. In response, Spencer gently smiles and nods.

"I don't want it to seem like this is a split-second decision I'll regret later because it isn't, and I know I'll never regret this," He begins, taking my hand in his. "But this feels so right. When thinking about being with you for the rest of my life, I thought maybe you wouldn't want me, but now... it just seems like the perfect moment to do this,"

Leaning back down, Spencer's lips hover over mine as he continues, my full name falling from his lips as I smile with tears in my eyes once again. "If you'll let me, I'd like to make you (Y/n) (M/n) Reid instead," he confesses, smiling. "The only thing I'd ever want to change about you is your last name," his comment makes me giggle before leaning up and attaching my lips to his, holding him closer once more.

"Yes, Spencer," I answer him, pulling back to stare into his beautiful hazelnut orbs. "A million times yes," I add, placing my hands on the sides of his face before kissing him again, my fingers running against the light stubble of his cheeks as his hands find their way to my waist. Once again, my lips are on Spencer's, and our hearts are beating against each other's, although this time, it feels as if our heartbeats are one in the same.

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friendship-ditch · 5 months

Text

You really do

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: You and Katniss attend the party together at Snows mansion, then she starts acting a little weird, a little jealous.

Warnings: None really. There’s like one swear word in there but nothing dramatic. (Also, small note, thanks for the request!) (SFW)

Word Count: 2494

A clammy hand gently ran down your arm, clenching your fingers in its own.

The party was loud and colorful. People were everywhere, talking, eating and dancing. You were still at the top of the stairs but you could already tell how overwhelming this was going to be.

“Breathe it all in, children.” Effie spoke with a dreamy sigh. Her wig was tall, shiny, and hard enough to be made of plastic, just like the rest of her outfit. Her eyelashes were dangerously long as she turned to face you. “This is all for you.”

You and Katniss exchanged a glance, hands still locked together.

“Looks cozy.” You stared ahead at the bustling party ahead. Sweat was beginning to prick the back of your neck but you shook it off the best you could.

Effie let out another sigh, this one more exasperated.

“Attitude.” She warned, snapping her fingers. “Smiles. I want to see big bright smiles.” Then she lowered her voice. “I’m talking to you, Katniss.”

Beside you, Katniss mumbled something under her breath but you couldn’t quite catch it. You two looked at each other once more, only snapped back to reality by Effie’s high pitched “Come, come!”

Together the two of you made your way through the heavy Capitol crowd. You took in the odd, exotic looks of the civilians around you but mostly kept your gaze on Katniss as you followed her up the stairs.

Once you two could walk beside each other again, you slipped your hand back into hers.

“A little overwhelming, huh?” You whispered softly into her ear. You two entered Snow’s mansion, still hand in hand and on the trail of Effie.

Katniss let out a soft chuckle, a real smile breaking across her face for the first time in the past hour. “A little?”

You flashed a mischievous grin back at her.

Eventually Effie led the two of you into the backyard that was covered to the brim in decorations, lights of all colors, and various buffets of food.

Katniss locked her arm with yours this time, sticking close to your side. She wasn’t scared, not that she would admit it, but she was definitely a little intimidated by it all.

You were too, but feeling her warmth pressed against your side made you feel a little better.

When the time to dance came around, you rescued Katniss from a group of chatty women and brought her to the dance floor, arm wrapped around her waist.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying this.” Katniss said after a few minutes, her arms wrapped loosely around your neck. Her movements were a little stiff but the fiery makeup and gorgeous dress made it seem almost natural.

You rolled your eyes playfully, hands resting on her hips. “I’m not a big party person.” You responded teasingly. “But you really look like you’re enjoying this. We all know you partied every night back in 12.”

Katniss let out a soft groan and gently bumped her forehead into yours. “Oh, shut up.”

A small smile teased both of your lips and you leaned your forehead back into hers, just resting it there for a moment.

Both of you were stiff and as awkward as a board, clearly not in your element and dragged far out of your comfort zone, but together on the dance floor things seemed almost nice, like you were meant to be here as long as you were together.

“I know the makeup and outfit is a lot but… you do look really pretty tonight.” You murmured softly, standing on your toes to be eye to eye with her. “Cinna did his job well. As usual.”

Now you noticed the faintest blush dancing across her face and that drew a bigger smile out on yours.

Sure, maybe you two were just together for the publicity of it. Your fake love story saved both of your lives in the games and it got you this far together, what was the harm in playing into it just a little more?

Especially if you were supposedly getting married soon.

Not to mention that you’ve had a crush on Katniss for… as long as you can remember. As the only two female victors from District 12 that won the screwed up games together, you both had some pretty cruel shared trauma and were the only ones that really understood each other.

Sometimes you thought maybe your fantasy romance wasn’t really that fake after all, but in the end, things never progressed past TV kisses.

Katniss recovered quite quickly from your compliment. Her gray eyes studied your makeup painted face for a moment and then flicked to your lips.

“Sounds like you want to amuse the Capitol.” Katniss whispered in the same low tone. She leaned a little closer.

You tightened your grip on her waist and let that same mischievous grin lift the corners of your lips. “Who says I’m doing this for the Capitol?” You responded, although you said it in a teasing way. You could never admit the truth to her.

Katniss took the hint. She moved her face closer to yours, just about to kiss you when–

“Katniss, y/n!” Effie called in a shrill voice, scaring the two of you apart. Beside her was a shorter man with white hair and wise eyes. She introduced him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the head gamemaker for this year's games.

You didn’t get another word in as Plutarch guided Katniss away for the two of them to dance. You let out a soft sigh and returned to the food table to maybe find those chocolate strawberries.

Once you found the snack you were craving, you scooped some up onto a plate. When you turned around, three other Capitol women were standing there.

They were even more decked out than most of the others there. Each of their hair was a bright, vibrant color and at least 2 feet tall. They were wearing equally colorful and blinding dresses and their faces were so caked in makeup you could hardly make out what they really looked like.

“You know, y/n, you were my favorite tribute from the 74th games.” One of the women chimed, nudging you with her elbow.

Another one of the women snuck up to your other side, her elbow bumping into yours. “Mine as well! I donated almost all of my money to sponsor you.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement, knowing you’d barely gotten a single parachute in that rough arena, much less one that you really needed.

This whole situation, as overwhelming as it was, was still quite curious to you. You figured that while Katniss danced away with Heavensbee, you could learn just a little more about the Capitol citizens.

You spoke with the women for a while, most of your conversations were either about the games or about fashion, two things you didn’t quite enjoy talking about but you went along with it either way.

One of the women in particular had no fear at all getting as close to you as humanly possible. You didn’t really know how to stop her as every time you pushed her away, she just came back even further into your bubble.

It’s a good thing you were charismatic enough to keep their attention on your voice rather than on your lips. They weren’t put off from touching your face and the jewels in your makeup.

Finally, when the announcement music began to play, you noticed Katniss staring at you from a few feet away. The expression on her face was shielded and unreadable, but she did not seem happy.

You excused yourself from your fanclub and went to join her on the dance floor once more as President Snow stepped onto his balcony to make a speech.

You tried to slide your arm around Katniss’s waist as the two of you listened but she pulled away. Effie nudged her back into your grip and Katniss reluctantly gave in, though she didn’t make it easy.

You figured this was what hugging a log was like.

President Snow spoke about your wedding and how glad he was to have you here, though his face showed no emotion at all. He lifted his glass to a toast and so did the crowd.

Fireworks went off behind you and you felt Katniss flinch. You pulled her a little closer, arm still around her waist.

She wedged her hand in between your and her side and put a little space in between you two, even though her other hand was still clamped around yours.

After the firework show, you two returned to the dance floor for one last dance before returning to the train.

“Are you okay?” You asked the second you two were dancing. Your hands were connected with hers this time. Hers were clammy again.

Katniss said nothing for a moment. Her eyes flicked from your face, to the ground, and then beyond you. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Katniss snapped softly at you. She tried to pull away from you but you held her in place.

That’s when you noticed the whole dance floor was staring at you.

“To our lovely victors, and to-be-weds!” Effie smiled widely and pointed to you two. She mouthed the words “kiss,” and then waited.

Katniss pretended not to see, so you stood back up on your toes and pressed your lips into hers. She stiffened and closed her eyes.

When you pulled away, you frowned at her. Something was definitely wrong. Even when you and Katniss kissed for the first time in the games, she seemed to enjoy it much more. Now it felt like there was all sorts of pent up anger and resentment in her kiss.

You two stood there silently, soaking in the applause.

Katniss was the first to break out of your grasp. She said nothing else and headed towards the exit.

Effie looked at you with an annoyed gaze but said nothing on the matter. She just hurried you up to follow Katniss.

You two went straight to the train. You stopped to speak with Haymitch for a few moments and then marched right over to Katniss’s room.

Katniss was staring at herself in the mirror, still adorned in her party outfit. Her gaze hardened when you stepped into her room and she inhaled sharply.

“Katniss, did something happen at the party?” You asked. You were worried that maybe somebody had said something to her or done something while you weren’t looking. “Should I tell Effie?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Her tone was telling you to shut up and fuck off, but you weren’t giving in that easily.

Katniss finally looked at you. Her face was red with anger and her eyes were dark. She glanced over your shoulder at the door and started towards it, muttering something about getting changed out of her uncomfortable outfit.

You grabbed her wrist just before she could make it out the door.

“Katniss, come on, talk to me.” You pleaded. “I know you don’t like opening up, but I’m your friend! You can tell me things. I want you to tell me things!”

Katniss whirled to face you. “Are we really just friends?” She asked you. “Is that what you think? Is that what you really think?”

You frowned, taken aback by her sudden explosion.

“Isn’t that what we are?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tightening your grip on her wrist as she tried to wiggle out. “I thought that was our deal.”

“And so did I.” Katniss sighed, half of her anger melting away with just the release of a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting upset, I shouldn’t be pissed over this…”

“No, tell me.” You brought her over to the bed, the two of you sitting beside each other. “Tell me what’s upsetting you.”

“It’s not important.”

“It’s bothering you, it is important.”

Katniss sighed again, this time a little softer than before. She let her eyes lock with yours and you saw the various emotions swimming in them.

“It’s stupid. I just… I get upset when I see you with other people.” Katniss finally admitted. “When you’re close with them, when they touch you, when they try to kiss you. It makes me so angry.”

You almost let out a noise of surprise but held it back so you didn’t anger her even more.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Katniss glared at you, though she wasn’t mad at you, she was just mad. “And I hate it. I don’t understand it. You’re my friend, you don’t really love me. This is all just for show.”

“Is it really just for show?” You asked, almost hesitantly. “People don’t fake kiss each other the way you kiss me.”

Katniss wrinkled her nose as if the idea of admitting the truth disgusted her. Her upset gaze darkened and she stared at you, almost daring you to prove yourself.

You were going to make the first move, but surprisingly, Katniss beat you to it.

Before you had time to react her lips were pressed back into yours, her arms sliding around your waist in an almost passionately angry attempt to prove you wrong. She kissed you for a few seconds, and then pulled away, face redder than before.

You were blushing too, but not from embarrassment, from a relieved surprise.

“You think I don’t really love you?” You said softly, running a hand down her arm until your fingers locked with hers. “Katniss, I’ve loved you for years. What I said in the games wasn’t a lie, and you know that.”

Leaning into you, Katniss just rested her head on your shoulder for a moment. Her breath tickled your neck and her body relaxed.

“I can’t love you… I don’t.”

You shook your head, gently picking her head up off your shoulder and cupping her face. “Come on, Katniss. I think you being jealous that I just spoke to a few other women is a pretty clear indicator that you love me.” You said, letting your voice raise a teasing pitch.

Katniss huffed and rolled her eyes, leaning into your hand. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“You were so jealous.”

The blush on Katniss’s face grew even brighter. She pushed your hands away and then pulled you into another kiss.

“You do love me.” You whispered softly into the kiss, letting one of your hands gently climb back up her face. “You do.”

Katniss’s arms snaked around your torso. “Shut up y/n.” She mumbled, kissing you again. When she pulled away, she kissed your cheek. “Stop saying it, you’ll wear it out.”

“You say it, then I’ll stop.”

Katniss sighed in annoyance. “I love you.” She said softly, her eyes still resting on your lips. “I really do…”

“Good, because I love you too.”

This time, when Katniss knocked you back onto the bed for another kiss, she was smiling.

#katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x you #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #yall I tried to make this longer I swear but it just wouldn’t budge #I hope this is a good enough answer for the request <3

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lilrainbowcloud · 2 months

Text

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Jet x Earth Bender Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers

Word count: 1.85k [masterlist]

a/n: theres not much fic for him, why? also this is based on dwoht and am currently listening to it rn.

Taking a deep breath, your foot came down on the earth, making four medium sized rocks burst from the ground.

Focusing your energy towards the wooden circular target that was mounted on a tree trunk, you let out the breath you held and along went the rocks, flying towards the target. Transforming into sharp spikes before impaling themselves into the wood.

An annoyed sigh left your lips. Two of them missed, one went into the outer ring and the other one hit the tree trunk above it instead.

"You're getting better."

Shocked, you turned around to see Jet standing a few meters away from you, in his usual armored attire and hair free from a tie. Didn't even realize he was there watching you the whole time. Didn't even hear his footsteps coming.

"No. I don't know. I guess?" Flustered by his presence and comment, you shook your head trying to clear off the thoughts and went to sit on one of the logs. He joined you right after.

"You are though. It's better than last week." He was watching you. You could feel the weight of his gaze but you just couldn't look back at him.

Were you shy? Yes you were.

To be honest, it was kind of random how you two met.

One day you were practicing your bending by the river. Setting up river stones on the big boulders and trying to hit them with your bending. But, to your luck, or unluck, one of the spikes flew straight past the head of Jet as he was walking to the city.

The day you met was the day you almost potentially killed him.

After that, you had joined his little secret club. It was awkward and it still was with him. Was it guilt and embarrassment that held you back from him? But that was months ago. It was something else here.

You just didn't want to admit it.

Your feelings for him, that is, grew over time. With every time you spent with him, with every encouragement he gave you during your practices, he made you feel safe and secure yet there was a wall separating you from him.

It was you who made that wall. He couldn't see it.

"I almost hit pipsqueak last week," a smile formed on your lips as you recalled the memory. In your defense, he was in the way.

That emitted a chuckle out of him. The sound was lovely to your ears. Your smile remained as you stared at the bonfire in the middle of the pit.

"Hey, come on," Standing up, he offered his hand to you.

Humming in confusion, you looked up at him and took his hand regardless.

"Try it on me," He gave you that smile that just tugged at your heartstrings, playing it like a harp. A melodious sound ringing in your ears.

"What? As in, fight you?" You stared at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"Yeah, fight me." Picking his swords up, he gave them both a swing.

Oh he was serious?

"No, I'm-I'm tired already," Rose bloomed on your cheeks as you once again looked to the ground, avoiding his eyes.

"Aw come on. You've been practicing with non-moving objects," Stepping closer to you, he lowered his voice even though you two were the only one there, "If you're worried about hurting me, don't be."

🗡️🪨🍃

With every hit he blocked, he took a step forward forcing you to take a step back.

It was a sort of dance. Your feet mirroring his. At times you moved forward, he moved back. Neither gaining or losing as it was balanced. He matched your pace well.

The intense look of his eyes made you realize that he was learning your fighting style and movements. The moment it clicked to you that you had been using the same movements too. Smart on him but careless on you.

Your spikes and dics clashed with the sharp blade of his swords. Dust filled the air between you two as the rock burst into tiny pieces.

Pushing your arms forward, your discs flew in random directions towards him at rapid speed, more quicker than you had done before. Adrenaline pumping in your veins, you could hear your heart beating in your ears.

He blocked all of them swiftly, with every hit he moved forward closer to you but this time you didn't step back.

The last one he crossed slash it about one meter away from you. Some of the little rocks landed in your hair.

You were mesmerized by him. His chest rising and falling with every breath matching yours. His hair matted on his forehead. That was the end of that session.

For a moment it felt like time stopped. With only the sound of rustling leaves in the atmosphere, you both stared into each other's eyes. Dropping his swords carelessly on the ground beside him, he stepped towards you.

You've never been left alone with him before. This was a new situation you had to adapt to. But he was Jet. You know him to an extent, he was your friend and you were his. So why is your fight or flight reaction kicking in?

Even then, you stayed glued to your spot.

Lifting his hand, Jet brushed his fingers through your hair, cleaning the debris, "That was really good," As his eyes trained on the rocks in your hair, you had a chance to look into his. A proud smile on his face, "I told you, you're getting better."

Returning his smile, you thanked him. Silence followed as you looked to the ground again. The leaf covered earth was interesting to you out of all things. I don't know, like the boy in front of you that's looking at you with furrowed brows. But you didn't notice that because you were looking to the ground! Look up please!

"Is everything okay?" Concern laced his tone, "You're being very quiet around me lately." His voice low with the last sentence.

Raising your head, you now realize he was so close to you. So close that he was stepping into your personal bubble. You didn't move away so this was a welcomed presence.

Mouth falling agape, your mind raced to find an answer that wouldn't make him feel like you're pushing him away. You... wanted him to stay.

"What do you mean?" Crossing your arm across your torso, you tilted your head with the question.

"Well," It was his turn to avoid your eyes, kicking his shoe into the ground, "I saw you laughing with them and joking around but when you're with me you're, well," Once again he looked at you, "Quiet."

"Why?" Something in the air changed. It weighed heavy on you. Your heart beating irregularly as with that one word he stepped forward closer. The gap between you almost became nonexistent until you moved back.

Dead leaves crunched under your shoes until your back met the trunk of a tree. He saw it before you did and smoothly put his hand on the back of your head, cushioning it from hitting the hard bark. The gap now? Extinct.

To allow some control, you put a hand on his chest. That was the only little space you had left. You could push him away and he knew that. He moved no further into you and you didn't move away.

The answer didn't come sooner. Your tongue wouldn't move as you tried to focus on breathing with his chest nearly meeting yours. You felt his fingers at the back of your head slightly clutching your hair. How are you still standing up, you didn't know.

"You don't like me?" There was no place you could look except his demanding eyes. Trapped in your own world, you didn't realize it was sunset. The golden light reflecting in his iris and hair made a golden halo around him.

"I do," Emphasizing the last word, you cringe internally as it sounded desperate, "I do like you," You repeated softer.

A second passed.

"Then what? Do I make you nervous?" He was teasing you, his tone. Testing your limits, he pressed himself more into you. You allowed it, hand still on his chest.

Before it was just a single rose, now you were sure a garden was blooming on your face. Body temperature rising, you had to control your breath through your mouth. The oxygen wasn't getting to your brain fast enough, you felt light headed. You would've fell if it not for his other hand which you didn't noticed held your waist in place.

You seem to have lost your bearings with him. It was dangerous, being put under a spell that was tearing away at your guard.

"I," Almost biting your tongue to utter that one word, you gulped. Can he just stop? But at the same time you didn't want him to. If only you had the brain functions to respond to him properly.

A little chuckle vibrated his chest, you felt it in the palm of your hand. Thankfully he read your mind, because you wanted this as much as he did.

"You're adorable, you know that?" The hand that was pillowing your head came around your face as he cups your cheek. Thumb swiping over it once before he pulled your face meeting his and your lips connected.

It was soft, his lips. The kiss lasted a moment. Sweet and innocent. Your senses bursting into vibrant colors. Bright ribbons swirling all around your closed eyes. You could feel his smile against your lips as he pulled away first, still keeping close to you.

His arm that was on your waist wrapped itself around you, pulled your body to him.

Sensing you were comfortable and alright with it, the shy smile on your face told him all, he pulled you back in again. Back into a shared realm, where your heart beats in synchronized sequence, bodies fitting each other perfectly.

Looping your arms around his neck, your fingers mindlessly played with the ends of his hair. A soft hum emitted from him which made your body react in a way it never did before. The grip on your waist got tighter. You decided you loved hearing that little sound and the way his hands gripped your body.

It was you who pulled away first, him chasing your lips but you stopped him with a hand on his chest yet again. You were breathless. Looking up to his eyes as he was still trained on your lips, but he respected your wishes even though he was also out of air.

"I like you," You managed in between breaths. Smiling as you did as the relief of the invincible wall crumbled down and vanished between the space of you and him in your spiritual mind.

The space was established. Whatever force that was keeping you away from him had dissolved. Only his gravity now pulled you towards him.

He smiled too, loving the way your body melted into his.

"I like you too."

a/n: a little rusty on the writing after 2 years out of practice man.. i hope this is okay

#take this while i mourn #jet #jet atla #jet x reader #sebastian amoruso #atla #avatar the last airbender

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koisuko · 5 months

Note

Hello!! Could I request a MK one shot of what Johnny Cage would be like with a super shy/flustered reader. Like she’s totally into him and he just loves to make her all flustered

yesss i love this dynamic! (sorry this took a minute, my birthday was a day ago)

TW: may contain sexual flirtation, use of feminine pet names

flirty johnny, gn reader, oneshot, shy!reader, reader has a big ole crush, flirtality

Sat across the training courtyard, your eyes once again found themselves drawn to the movie star, Johnny, as he trained with the monks. You observed his movements, the flexing of his muscles beneath his clothing, his winning smile glistening in the sunlight. The rays played delicately on his flawless skin, capturing your attention effortlessly. Before you knew it, you were staring, lost in a daydream, mentally entranced like a love-struck puppy. Your hopeless crush on Johnny was no secret, and he, in turn, enjoyed teasing you endlessly. Little did you know, he shared the same feelings you tried desperately to conceal. He found pleasure in watching the flames engulf your features when his hand brushed your skin or when he smirked at you during sparring sessions. He reveled in the way your body squirmed and writhed when he teasingly whispered in your ear. Johnny was aware of the effect he had on you, and he reveled in it.

Your trance was broken by a sudden presence beside you—Kung Lao. "You are gawking again, y/n." Your name rang through your head, snapping you from your daydream. You turned your gaze to acknowledge him, "Is it that obvious?" you asked, your voice quiet and shaky, a blush rising to your cheeks. Kung Lao raised a brow, looking at you as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, "You can't keep it hidden forever, you know. You practically tell on yourself with your actions around him." You felt yourself gulp, catching Kung Lao's attention as he chuckled loudly. "I can't tell him, Lao. What if he thinks I'm weird? What if—" He clapped your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, silencing you immediately. Your hands became clammy as your mind ran wild with potential outcomes. "Listen, if I'm being honest, he clearly likes you too. I mean, come on, he teases you every chance he gets, reserves a seat for himself beside you at dinner," he paused, shooting you a reassuring smile, "the guy wears his feelings on his sleeve. I'm sure you'll do just fine. Don't stress yourself." You gave his words some thought, looking at him with an awkward, thankful smile, "Besides, you are too cute to resist," he added, a quick, teasing wink in your direction before standing and walking off.

You couldn't help but ponder Kung Lao's words from earlier that day. He wasn't wrong; you hadn't noticed those small actions Johnny had shown you until they were listed out before you. Now that you thought on it, you remembered how often you would meet his gaze when attempting to catch a sneaky glance at him, only to find out he was already looking at you. How he would scoot closer to you, your arms touching, little to no space between you as he leaned in with the excuse of wanting to hear you better. How you were the only one he would show genuine, raw emotion to when times got tough, holding you close to his chest like his life depended on it. Any excuse he could use to get closer to you, make you blush, make you feel any emotion in his presence, he would take it in a heartbeat. All this sudden realization caused another wave of heat to rush through your body, shaking lightly with nerves wracking your mind. If only you were more confident, not so reserved and terrified of reality, you would have confessed to him long ago. You tried, on multiple occasions, only to choke and stutter on your own words like they were poison, sending you retreating with apologies in the solace of your room.

You took a deep breath, standing just outside the dining room, building up the courage to walk in and get some much-needed dinner. The last vestiges of the earlier realization lingered in the back of your mind, making you more hyperaware of yourself, him, everything. It was scary. Pushing the doors open lightly, you attempted to slink in unnoticed, avoiding any direct attention. Unfortunately, your plan was foiled by Johnny Cage himself. "Hey princess, saved you a seat!" He smirked, his hand enthusiastically patting the seat beside him. You swallowed your nerves, approaching with your head down as you sat beside him. You could feel your palms moisten as his body heat practically called to you. Filling your plate with a variety of foods laid out before you, keeping your portion small, your anxiety gripped at your stomach, wavering your appetite. You made sure to avoid eye contact with anyone around as you lifted some rice to your lips. Johnny wrapped his arm around your shoulders without warning, causing a sudden jolt to shoot through your body and a slight cough to leave your lips. "Sorry, sweetheart, didn't mean to scare you," he smirked, leaning his head to be just inches from your ear, "how's the food, honey?" He whispered, your body shuddering as his breath met your skin, stiffening and halting all movement. Your eyes wide, you could practically feel his smirk, the satisfaction in his eyes from being the cause of such a reaction. "I-its good," you managed to choke out, your voice quiet like a mouse, your face a bright pink, "a-and y-yours?" His face retracted, his hand moving to his side once again as he took a bite of his own meal, "like a million bucks." You nodded in response, keeping your head low, as you continued to eat your meal in silence. You cursed yourself, the blush still lingering on your face. It felt like your throat was being held tight by an unknown force, like any attempts to speak would be blocked by your mind. Johnny turned to you once more, a finger under your chin suddenly as he forced you to look him in the eyes, "you got something there," he commented, taking his thumb and wiping some sauce off the corner of your lip with his thumb before bringing it to his own lips, licking it clean, "there, that's better." The grin never once left his face during this interaction. You were absolutely dumbfounded, staring for what felt like ages as your brain tried to comprehend what had just occurred. It took Kung Lao nudging your ribs gently with his elbow to break you out of your trance, turning to Kung Lao as if seeking his confirmation that what just happened was real, and not a dream. Kung Lao simply smirked, nodding his head in Johnny's direction, silently assuring you that it indeed happened. Your head shot back down to your food, a blush still gracing your features in a more exasperated display of your hidden affection for the actor beside you.

Later that night, you struggled to sleep, the earlier incident still burned into your mind. Johnny left you alone for the rest of the dinner, talking about his movies in a never-ending river of stories, only occasionally wrapping his arm around you throughout his rambling. He sensed your inner turmoil, evident on your face the rest of the dinner, and was a bit worried about you. He knew your appetite was dulled from your anxiety and eventually picked up on how much his stories helped you relax and trick your mind into eating more than you thought you could. He knew it was working when your pupils began to dilate as you looked up at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you nodded in acknowledgment. He felt a sense of accomplishment when you would ask questions and engage in his retellings of his acting career, a genuine smile on his lips as he eagerly answered. You had no clue what you did to him; his heart swelled whenever your eyes met his in authentic interest, a real curiosity to his words. Joy filled his body, his heart rate picking up at the sight of those oh-so-familiar red cheeks of yours. For the first time in his life, he felt truly listened to; you gave him your undivided attention whenever he opened his mouth to speak, and he admired that greatly in you. You saw past his mask, past his fame and fortune, and saw a caring, confident, goal-driven man.

With one final huff of frustration, you swung your legs out of bed, the cold wooden floor beneath you sending chills through your spine. Pulling your favorite fluffy blanket along with you, wrapping it around you to shield yourself from the cold night air as your feet carried you out the door. You knew where you were going; the closer you got, each step in that direction, your heart rate increased as beads of sweat began forming on your brow. Just as you reached his door, faint snoring could be heard within, your breathing picked up the pace, becoming uneven and rapid. Your face reddening at the thought of speaking to him in his room, alone. You hesitantly lifted your fist, ready to knock, but were you truly ready? Was it really time to spill your heart to him? Your mind raced slightly; you felt yourself spiral just a bit. A deep breath, 1, 2, 3, and out; Kung Lao's words echoed in your head once more—you can do this. You knocked, anticipation causing your body to shift from left hip to the right, and back again. Should you knock again? The snoring could still be heard, causing you to knit your brows together before knocking again, a little louder this time. Silence, a slight creak of the bed, and a groan before footsteps made their way to the door.

The door creaked open, Johnny's face poking out and looking around before looking down, a grin instantly growing on his sculpted face. "Hey, cutie, what can I do for you?" You blushed once more, unable to force the words to leave your mouth. Pointing to the door with a gulp, he seemed to have gotten the message, opening it fully and moving to the side, swaying his hand as a gesture to come in. You obliged, albeit awkwardly as you moved to sit on his bed, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself in an attempt to calm your ever-climbing train of nerves. "Something happen, kitty?" his tone was soft, sitting down beside you on the bed and pulling you close into a side hug. You were fighting a never-ending war in your mind, your expression blank as you tried your hardest to build up the courage to say anything at all. Tears threatened to spill from the brim of your eyes, feeling that familiar restriction in your throat once again, further hindering your ability to get your words out. You could feel it, right there on your tongue just ready to come out, 'I really like you.' Instead, a choked whine left your lips, your bottom lip quivering, your breaths coming out at a rapid dry pace. Johnny noticed this, quickly stroking your back gently, "Hey, hey, it's okay, look at me," he pulled your face to look at him, "eyes on me, doll, deep breaths." You did as he said, focusing on his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Your breathing eventually steadying once again, a smile on his face, "there we go, it's okay, baby," his smile was genuine, not his usual one he put on for the cameras, real and full of endearment. It was contagious, causing you to mirror with a smile of your own. "T-thank you, I just.." You took another deep breath, "I-I—" you sighed with frustration once more. Despite being calm, you still could not form a coherent sentence; 'just say it!' you yelled into your head. "You like me, don't you." You froze, your eyes widening in shock, as your head swiveled in his direction so fast you nearly hurt yourself, "H-how—" he chuckled, "it's not hard for someone like me to pick up on these things, I'm not blind, sweetheart." You were speechless, just staring at him with a look of pure shock. Flustered was an understatement. The way he was looking at you, it made you melt, somehow making you nervous and calm at the same time.

"Your blush is cute, you wear it well, sugar."

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