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#AND THEN ALSO MAYBE LET US PET THE DOGS
makedamnsvre · 4 months
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literally whenever i think even for a second abt irresponsible dog owners i get so mad. i think these people deserve to be beat to death with shovels
#my neighbors have an untrained large dog that they let roam the neighborhood off leash unsupervised and that dog has#on multiple occasions blocked my family out of our own house because if we try to open the door to go inside he will push his way past us#into our house where our cats are (cats that he has actively tried to kill multiple times before)#also other animal neglect and abuse that they do like. 99% of americans should be banned from pet ownership genuinely#it makes me so so mad. and friends of mine telling stories about other peoples off leash aggressive dogs attacking their leashed dog when#going on walks and shit and literally having to keep dog mace on hand to protect their dog from other peoples untrained aggressive dogs#that they just let off leash to harass or attack anyone or anything. straight up i am killing you with hammers#and ive seen videos by people on instagram who are good dog owners that have aggressive dogs (like rescues or just naturally aggressive dog#and they do everything right. they trained the dog to have good recall always on leash in public kept away from other dogs#except for when some dumbass lets their unleashed dog run up to them and they have to use their body to shield the dogs from each other#desperately yelling at the other owner to control their dog bc the good owners LEASHED dog is aggressive#and people in the comments actually get mad like ''why are you bringing your aggressive dog in public >:(((('' when the dog is leashed#in places That Have Leash Laws. the owner did Everything right but everyones like 'maybe ur a bad owner bc ur dog is aggressive'#like as if they have never heard of rescued strays or previously abused dogs in their entire life. kill yourself !!
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kierancaz · 9 months
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Rewatching Prisoner of Azkaban and did Sirius just call Peter a dirty cow…
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dmc5se · 2 years
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i could write a novel of things people could do to make a housekeeper's life significantly easier at this point
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everyfandomever · 1 year
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One comment about maybe we should wait to put harley to sleep and i broke
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matchaitham · 11 months
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How Un-fur-tunate
Ayato, Thoma, Xiao x gn! Reader
Summary: You turn into a cat! ...but you don't know whether your doting and overly protective lover is a blessing or a curse in this situation.
Genre: fluff, crack
Warnings: none, just jealous men
Note: A spin-off of smitten kitten but the situation is uno reversed (evil laugh). But because each story has gotten quite long, you remain a cat indefinitely >:3
Also, no cat puns this time sorry, but check the end for a surprise!
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Kamisato Ayato
Ayato is rarely a free man, and so whenever he's no longer chained to his work, his first mission is to seek you out!
But today was a little different.
He had searched high and low, in the estate and in Inazuma city, even dispatching a few shuumatsuban in hopes of getting even a glimpse of you.
His only companion in his woes? A random cat that kept following his every move.
The cat even has some of your features and accessories, which led him to think that you secretly owned a cat.
Oh well, explanations are for later. Now, he just pats the cat with a deep frown on his gorgeous face as no news of you has reached him yet.
The cat was a noisy fella. Answering his every rhetoric question and his every sigh about missing you.
It was starting to impatiently nip and scratch on the hems of his sleeves when a shuumatsuban barges in, chest heaving in a panic.
"My Lord! We've apprehended a treasure hoarder who admitted to attacking (name)!"
Ayato shoots up from his position, heart pounding a mile per second but face eerily cold, "And (name)? Where are they now?"
The shuumatsuban hesitates before speaking up, "The treasure hoarders claimed to have...turned them into a cat with an ancient relic? The said relic is now allegedly destroyed after its use."
The poor guy winced as he spoke, knowing fully well how absurd it sounds. He can only hope that the Commissioner won't have his head for reporting such nonsense.
But as those words were spoken, the cat in his arms meowed loudly, as if joining in on the conversation.
"Yes! That's what happened! It's me, Ayato, it's me!"
You desperately exclaim, but all that came out was "meow! meooooow!"
Ayato looks down at you and believes the story for one heart-stopping second before scoffing at himself, "No...that's ridiculous."
You bite him as punishment.
When he finally, finally believes you after pointing at yourself in the portraits that he keeps around, pulling on his pants to tug him towards your room, and a terrible attempt at using his brush and ink to spell your name...you might as well wish you haven't tried at all.
He's so smug and teasing about it, please feel free to bite his fingers should you feel annoyed.
He parades you around the estate, arms clinging around your form and bouncing you up and down like one would to a child.
Your ears and tail are the common victims of his affectionate kisses and gentle tugs. When you do turn back, he promises to adopt a kitty (and endlessly tease you about this situation).
"Don't worry," he nuzzles your head for the nth time in an hour, "no other cat is as adorable as your cat form, my dearest."
He even lets his bemused sister pet you after she hesitantly requests to do so (she doesn't want to miss this moment!)
But when Ayaka has been petting you for too long and you start to purr and melt under her gentle ministrations, he suddenly feels a wave of possessiveness. The commissioner then snatches you away and locks the both of you in his room.
Definitely gatekeeps your cat form for himself, poor you (:P)
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Thoma
Thoma had just finished feeding the stray cats and dogs and was on his way back to the Kamisato Estate when he noticed a new cat trailing behind him.
The cat looked too well groomed to be a stray, it even had some accessories exactly like yours!
Was it the (last name) clan's pet? Maybe it escaped and got lost?
Whatever the case, Thoma gently picks it up and carries it with him while he looks for you. Afterall, the path back to your place is not the safest, especially for a defenseless house cat.
Thoma chuckles at the way it melts into his arms exactly how you usually would.
"Sadly, you don't have a collar with your name on it, so I don't know what to call you. But knowing (name), you either have an elegant name or a really silly one."
You couldn't even talk back (meow back?) at his little comment before Thoma scratches at just the right spot between your ears and you go slack.
"Let's get you back to your owner hmm? I'm sure they're worried for you," he coos in the voice he reserves for animals and babies. "Just don't tell them that I'm using this as an excuse to see them."
Your cat self perked up at his last statement and looked up at him with an amused "oh ho ho! Really now?" expression.
Thoma didn't know cats could even be that expressive!
He rants and continues to sing praises about his amazing lover along the way to your home. This is great, you internally laugh, so much teasing material handed to me for free!
When he finally reached the gates to your estate, the sight of frantic guards and your personal advisor about to lose their wits made him think of the worst possible scenario.
Fear and paranoia dumps on him like a bucket of cold water.
Did something happen? Did something bad happen to you?
Your personal advisor notices him and immediately rushes to the both of you in relief.
"Mr. Thoma! Thank goodness you're here! (Name) had turned into a cat after a battle with an abyss mage and had escaped─" they look down at the unimpressed kitty in his arms and gasp comically.
"My liege!" They cry out in relief.
You meow back in a dismissive tone not unlike how you would normally say "Yes yes, fret not," to your anxious advisor.
"I was so worried seeing you gone! I even called over the Arataki gang to help with the rescue mission!"
Thoma, after finally snapping out of his shock and confusion, looks down at you flustered. He thinks about everything he's embarrassingly said to your cat form and begs the ground to swallow him up whole.
You're never going to let him live it down, are you?
That's fine, you'll make up for it with kisses!
"Wait a second, why the Arataki gang and not the Yashiro Commission?" Thoma asks, knowing your genuine friendship with the Lord he serves and how much more capable they are. No offense, Itto.
"Well, the gang are your close friends right? Plus, I didn't think the Yashiro commission would believe the whole cat shenanigan and might call us liars," your advisor scratches the back of their head.
"No please, if a friend is in need, no matter how ridiculous the situation is I'm sure Lord Kamisato is ready to help!"
Just as Thoma reassures your staff, the Arataki gang comes barreling in.
"IS IT TRUE? HAS (NAME) TURNED INTO A CAT AND IS NOW MISSING?" Itto screeches.
"NOOOO NOT MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME!" He bawls as the rest of the gang awkwardly pat his back. He sniffs, "It's alright, leave the search to me! I'll get them back no matter what!"
Thoma is stunned, such a dedicated friend..?
"Itto they're uh... they're right here," Thoma slightly raises you up in his arms.
The oni gasps dramatically and snatches you away despite Thoma's protests.
"MY GOODNESS! THEY'RE ADORABLE!" He nuzzles his face into your neck and Thoma knows he means well! But the housekeeper has never seized you back so fast, an uncommon frown/pout combo taking over his face.
He's not jealous, not jealous at all! Please don't add this to the growing list of what to tease Thoma with.
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Xiao
You have been consistently visiting him at the exact same time every day unless you say otherwise. So when you weren't in your meeting spot and no word came from you saying you'd be late, he's a little concerned.
That's fine, he can wait. He's not the type to worry easily.
SIKE
Man is searching everywhere.
He checked your usual spots first: the docks at the harbor, at your favorite restaurant, even back at your home.
And when he fails to find you, he returns to your meeting spot atop Wangshu Inn where a cat oddly resembling you greets him eagerly.
His intuition is so strong he immediately knows it's you.
To be honest, it catches you off guard at how fast he reacts to your situation. You even prepared ways to convince him that it's you!
After quickly scanning over your cat form to check for injuries, he picks you up in his arms as gently as he can, mumbling a small polite "sorry" before whisking you away.
Xiao's first mission: take you to Cloud Retainer in hopes of turning you back.
His second mission: try not to combust at your cuteness after you had licked his arm in affection.
After some unsuccessful impromptu trips to several adepti later, his last hope depends on Zhongli's vast sea of knowledge.
During this whole ordeal, Xiao has not let go of you once, even when the adepti poke and prod at your cat body (respectfully) to try and investigate you.
So when Zhongli asks to hold you, you can almost see math equations hovering over his head as he is torn between agreeing or not.
Now don't get me wrong, Xiao trusts Zhongli with his entire being, but the thought of this smart, attractive, desirable former archon and bachelor holding you (yes, even though you're a cat) somehow sets off alarms in his head.
Yet you knew that Zhongli is most likely the key to your cure, so you gently headbutt Xiao's hands to tell him it's fine.
"Hmm," Zhongli frowns slightly as he twists and turns you in his arms, intensely surveying the elemental energy around you. "Alright, I have figured it out. So what happened was─" he proceeds to go on an hour-long lecture to tell you and your lover what could have caused this and how they can turn you back.
"You can leave (name) with me while you go look for the cure," Zhongli smiles kindly, cradling you close to his chest.
"No thank you," Xiao immediately answers and grabs onto you, vanishing in a puff of black smoke.
The parlor consultant only smiles in amusement after the two of you had left, "Ahh, youngsters."
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a little treat: the whole fic summed up in three photos
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badly edited by me as per usual hahshbjhkgl
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qveerthe0ry · 3 months
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Slipped Through
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Summary: There is one tiny, silly little caveat to Joel’s insane, old man endurance.  Word Count: 2,182 Pairing: Joel Miller x F! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v sex, cowgirl, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, premature ejaculation, frottage, no use of y/n
If one thing is for certain in the post-apocalypse, it’s that Joel Miller fucks. 
You find this out a few months after he and Ellie settle in down the street from you. 
He’s handsome, built like a brick shithouse, all bulky muscle from years and years of hard-fought survival. He’s also shy. Everyone else in Jackson thinks he’s aloof, rude, scary. 
But not you. 
You see the same scars on his skin, the same clenched jaw and stony gazes as everyone else. But to you, he’s just a tired, scared, sad man in need of some TLC. 
He gets it, too. 
It took a while for him to warm up to you, your timid advances, your dropped hints. But as soon as he let you in, it was like a forest fire, one single spark caught by the wind and engulfing everything in flames. 
He fucks. 
He’s been around a few decades and it shows. His stamina is incredible. He can fuck you for hours without stopping, make you come on his cock over and over again until you’re begging for him to give in to his release. 
He takes you from behind, while you’re on your knees or while you’re his little spoon. He takes you while you stare up at him on your back, a hand between your bodies to put delicious pressure on your clit. 
Once he even took you up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. Only once, though, because he had to call in sick for patrol, and Tommy wouldn’t let him rest until he told him what he’d done to pull his back so badly. 
He’s incredible. A selfless lover, so focused on making you feel good, his orgasm always second (or usually third or fourth) to yours. And he’s sweet, he calls you pet names and kisses you breathless and hands out praise like it’s expiring. He cleans you up after, and fetches you water, and holds you and strokes you until your shivers are gone and your breathing is back to normal. 
You have no complaints. But. There is one tiny, silly little caveat to Joel��s insane, old man endurance. 
He cannot keep it together when you ride him. With a gun to his head, you’re pretty sure he still couldn’t last long enough to get a solid session in with you on top. 
It’s not a bad thing, per se, but you like riding him. You enjoy taking a bit of control, letting him relax and ease his back after a long day. But he just… can’t last.
-
Joel’s cock is in your mouth. You love this part. You love breathing in the mixed scent of homemade soap and Joel’s natural smell as you nuzzle the wiry hairs. You love looking up at him and seeing his aroused grin and dark eyes staring back down at you. You love the way he feels so hot and thick against your tongue. You love getting him sopping wet so it’s even easier to take his girth when he fucks you. You love the feeling of his huge hand on the back of your head, tangling in your hair.
“God damn, baby, you suck dick like an angel.” 
You love that too— the praise, the wicked shit he says that completely negates how shy and timid he is outside of the bedroom. 
You hum around his cock and take him deeper. You’re never able to take him all the way, but when he nudges the back of your throat, you make swallowing motions and feel yourself contract around the thick head of his dick. His hand tightens in your hair, almost painful but not quite. 
“Jesus, your mouth, darlin’. Criminal.”
You hum again, and arch your back like a dog in heat, aching to feel him stretch you open. 
“C’mon, give me your pussy, baby.” 
His words are grunted, and maybe it’s a little mean of you to suck the life out of him before you plan to ride him. You think you like it, though, just being a little mean. 
He makes to move when you finally pull your lips from around him, but you hold him steady with two hands on his broad, sweaty chest. 
His pretty brown eyes widen in question, and his hands grab your hips hard as you hover over his cock, but he doesn’t say anything. 
He wants to. You can tell. His jaw clenches and his eyes fog over a bit as he looks down at your soaked center. But he stays silent as you line yourself up, stroke him through your folds a few times before letting his cockhead catch on your hole and sink in. 
The deep groan he lets out sounds pained. You coo at him, remove one of your hands from his chest to run through his silver curls. 
“Fuck.”
It’s gritted through his teeth, clenched together so tight you’re afraid they’ll crack. When you’re fully seated, you wiggle your ass and clench around him. 
“Baby,” he whimpers.
“Thought you wanted my pussy? Don’t you like it, Joel?” 
You lift up until he nearly falls out of you, and then fall right back down. A sound escapes your mouth, deep from your chest as you rise and fall again, throwing your head back at just how deep he reaches at this angle. 
His fingers grip your hips even tighter now, bruising and stinging. His breath whistles violently through his nostrils, stuttered and heavy. 
“Like it too much, darlin’, please.”
You spare him for a second, grinding down in his lap, swiveling your hips to help him simmer down. You rake your nails across his scalp in what you hope is a soothing gesture, but you can’t help the way you clench around him as you watch him struggle underneath you. 
Seconds pass as your hips grind out the smallest circles against him. His breaths are loud and warm against your nose and cheeks. He looks incredible like this, at your mercy, your devilish grin reflecting in his inky, wide pupils. 
His grip loosens the tiniest bit, and you watch his jaw clench and unclench as he squeezes his eyes shut. 
“You can take it, can’t you? For me?” 
You pout and rock your hips slowly, all the way up and back down, reveling in the familiar stretch and friction that’s torturous and not quite enough. You feel his chest expand with a shuttery gasp right under your palm, broken and ragged, and it makes you just that much wetter. 
“Sweet christ, the mouth on you tonight.”
His tongue pokes out to wet his red, bitten lips. When his eyes open back up, they’re all pupil, black and glossy and shining. Your cunt flutters around him at the sight of him so far gone, undone because of you. 
You squeeze your fingers in his hair, tugging, and he winces and you love it, this proud and powerful sensation coursing through your veins. You understand, now, how Joel feels when he fucks you, when you’re completely at the mercy of the pleasure he gives you. Why his lips always seem to lilt into a smirk, why that satiated smile doesn’t leave his face for hours, and why his gaze still feels so hungry no matter how many times you’ve gotten each other off. 
It’s addictive. 
His face untwists itself as you lighten the grip on his hair, but it screws right back up as you start to bounce on his cock. He curses, and you set a quick pace at the angle that makes you clench around his prick. 
“I can’t– Darlin’, I can’t.” 
His voice sounds panicked, so you lift up, let him slip completely out of you. You peer down to watch his glistening cock jerk wildly as his hips cant up into nothing. The muscles in his thighs tense something fierce, and you’re sure his nails have broke skin on your hips. 
“You can, baby. Just let me take care of you for once. Just enjoy it,” you say. 
His breath shutters in something akin to a sob, a warm gust across your heated cheeks. You let your hand trail up to his neck and goad him to break his staring contest with his jerking, weeping cock.
“You’re evil,” he tells you. 
You smirk. Your nails scrape over his stomach, the patch of curly hair there and the skin that pulls taut as his muscles strain against your touch.
“I think you like that.” 
Your hips tilt to align yourselves once more, and this time you sink down slowly until you’re seated on his thighs. For a moment, he gets a wicked glint in his eyes, dangerous looking. It vanishes as soon as you clench your walls around him. 
“You feel so good,” you whisper.
You catch his lips in your own. Distracted, he can’t kiss you back. The tight line of his mouth is frozen as you nibble on his plush bottom lip and rock your hips up and down. His noises are muffled this way, cut-off, like he wants to keep them from escaping. The softest whines, and the most beautiful music to your ears. 
You set a rhythm to match, and for a moment you think he’s managed to gain control. His palms are warm and sweaty on your hips, and then your ass, and you’re confident as you rise and fall. You’re working yourself up, too, as his prick supplies a delicious friction to the perfect spot inside you. Like it always does.  
But as you gasp and moan with your head thrown back, the calloused palms on your skin turn into sharp nails, and Joel’s sounds falter. 
“Off— get off,” he gasps. 
You do, rising up quickly, looking down between your bodies to watch Joel’s cock strain and throb in the cool bedroom air. You wait patiently for him to calm down as a second passes, then two, then—
“God dammit—”
Your eyes widen as you watch— in shock and horror and amazement and arousal— thick, white stripes shoot up to paint Joel’s chest and stomach. His abdomen pulls taut and his hips quiver with each wave of his climax.
“Shit—”
You’re frozen in time as Joel shakes with the intensity of it. And he just keeps coming, spurt after spurt making his dick jolt and twitch, until the last of it dribbles out of him and his poor cock gives one last gasping breath. 
“Fuck you,” he pants, squeezing your hips, but there’s no heat behind it. There’s nothing at all behind it as he slumps into the mattress, boneless and defeated. 
It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Which may not be saying much, since your pre-apocalyptic life was fairly short-lived, but it’s the truth. 
This man, sturdy and hardened and full of grit, reduced to a mess of a puddle underneath you. You’re throbbing, all because of him, because of what you’ve done to him. 
“So fucking hot, fuck,” you breathe.
You give him no chance at all to recover, so overcome by your own needs. You shift your hips and trap his prick between your folds and his stomach. 
It’s slippery and perfect, and even the feeling of Joel’s cock growing softer as it presses against your clit turns you on. 
Almost as much as his noises, the nearly pained whimpers as you grind against his overstimulated dick, the way he shudders and squirms underneath you. Still, he encourages your thrusts with two sweaty and firm hands on your hips, and the way his fucked-out gaze is focused on you taking your pleasure from him. 
Riding the adrenaline high, it takes virtually no time at all for you to reach your peak. Your nails dig into the skin of his pecs and the back of his neck respectively, as you near the inevitable. Your nose finds where his shoulder and throat meet, biting, hiding your whimpers in his sweaty skin. The hiss he lets out and the accompanying jolt of his hips is more than enough to send you over the edge. 
Atta girl, that’s it, get what you need.
His voice sounds far away, gritted through his teeth, as you pant against him and ride out the last of your orgasm. 
The following silence is quite loud, just heavy breathing and the odd creak of the bed frame. 
Joel must feel when your lips fail to suppress a smile against his shoulder, because he responds with a huff almost instantly. 
“Real pleased with yourself, huh?” 
You giggle, nip at his heated skin with playful teeth. 
“I really am.”
He grunts, and you finally lift up to look him in the eyes. He creases his brow and shakes his head at you. But then that dimple you love so much rears its head as he bites back his smirk, and another giggle bubbles up out of your chest. 
“Sorry ‘bout that, Darlin’.”
He sounds quite remorseful, looking up at you with those puppy eyes, and you cradle his stubbly cheek in your palm. 
“Just gotta train you up, cowboy.”
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kiwi-bitchez · 5 months
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Double Down, Triple Threat 
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Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader
Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 
Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 
Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.
Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together
A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I
"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.
"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 
"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 
"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."
"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."
"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 
Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 
Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 
"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."
"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 
If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 
He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."
"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 
Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 
But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 
Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 
"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."
"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."
"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'
"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"
"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 
"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."
"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."
"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."
"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 
He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 
"What's your drink?" he asks.
"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 
"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 
You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.
"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."
"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.
"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."
"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."
He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.
As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."
You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."
Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 
"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 
Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 
"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"
"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."
"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 
"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 
You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 
You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 
"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."
"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."
"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."
"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 
"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 
"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."
"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 
With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 
Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 
You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 
Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 
It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 
You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 
Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 
Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 
You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 
"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 
"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 
"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 
"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 
You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 
"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."
"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 
"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 
He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."
"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."
"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 
"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.
"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 
He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 
The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 
"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.
"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 
"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.
"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."
"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."
"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.
"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."
You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.
"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 
"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.
"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."
"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."
"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 
You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 
"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 
You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."
"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 
"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."
"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 
You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."
He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 
The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 
After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 
"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 
You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.
"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 
He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 
Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 
Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 
He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.
"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.
"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."
"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"
He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 
"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.
"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 
"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 
This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 
Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 
It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 
"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 
"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 
It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 
After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 
When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 
He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?
In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 
So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”
“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.
“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”
“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 
You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 
He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 
“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 
With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 
It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 
He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 
His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 
“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.
Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 
He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 
“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.
He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 
Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 
The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.
Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 
“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 
He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 
Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 
“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”
After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 
“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 
Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?
Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 
You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.��
“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”
And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 
Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 
After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 
Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 
“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.
You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”
“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”
“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.
“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 
“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  
You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 
“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 
“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”
There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 
“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 
He understood, he hated how much he understood. 
“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 
“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”
“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”
“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”
“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”
“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’
He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 
You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 
“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 
He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 
A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 
The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 
You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 
You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 
He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 
“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”
“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 
“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.
“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.
“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”
You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 
“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 
“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”
He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 
He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.
He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 
When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 
A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 
The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 
“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“
He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 
“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.
“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 
“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”
With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 
“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”
“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”
You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 
“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.
“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 
You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 
He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 
“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 
“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 
“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 
“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 
“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”
You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 
“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”
You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 
You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 
“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”
It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 
“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”
“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“
“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”
You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.
He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 
As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 
“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 
He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 
“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 
You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 
As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 
“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 
His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.
Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 
Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 
He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 
“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 
When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.
You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”
He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 
“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 
The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.
“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 
“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 
He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 
As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 
Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”
Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 
He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 
He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”
Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 
“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 
“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 
“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“
“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”
Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 
It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 
“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”
Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 
Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.
The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 
The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 
His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 
“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”
You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 
You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 
He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 
“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”
“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”
Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 
After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 
“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”
“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 
An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 
You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 
A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 
“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 
A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 
You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 
You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 
Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.
“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”
His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 
“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 
“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”
“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”
“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”
“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”
“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”
“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.
“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.
“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 
“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 
“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”
“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”
“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”
“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 
“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 
“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 
“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”
“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.
“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”
Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 
“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”
“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”
His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 
“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 
“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 
The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.
Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 
“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.
“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”
“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”
“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”
“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”
“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”
“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”
He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 
Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 
As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 
“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.
“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”
“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 
“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 
“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”
“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 
“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”
As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 
He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 
You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 
After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.
“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.
“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 
“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.
“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”
“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 
“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 
“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 
“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.
You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 
“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.
“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 
You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.
A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”
You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”
He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 
You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.
You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.
He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.
You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 
“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 
His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 
“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 
You nod with a “Please.”
“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”
He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.
“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”
With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 
He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 
“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 
You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 
You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 
The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.
You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 
“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 
“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 
The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”
He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 
Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 
“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”
Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 
“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 
He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 
“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.
“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”
You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 
“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”
He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 
“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 
You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 
You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 
Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.
“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”
He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 
He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 
Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 
He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 
You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 
“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 
He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”
“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 
You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 
“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 
“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 
Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 
His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 
“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.
He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.
“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 
He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 
Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 
Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 
You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”
Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.
Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 
Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 
“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 
“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”
“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 
“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”
Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 
Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 
“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 
“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”
He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“
He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 
“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 
“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”
You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 
“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 
“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 
Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.
He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 
He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.
Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 
More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”
How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 
“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”
“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.
“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“
“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 
Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 
“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 
It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 
It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.
“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 
You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 
He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.
“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”
He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 
“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”
“Special enough for a fourth date?”
You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”
Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 
“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 
“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 
A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3
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itadorey · 6 months
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𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄
pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader summary: six times megumi gets caught staring at you and the one time you get caught staring at him. genre: fluff, fluff, fluff, friends to lovers. no angst here, originally a 5 +1 but i added another scene so it's a 6 +1. notes: a repost from an old blog, some scenes changed. nobara is a nosy wingwoman. mentions of minor injury, canon-typical violence, follows the season 1 storyline loosely. gojo + shoko being nosy as well. wc: ~6k
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one.
Fushiguro Megumi is many things. To begin with, he's a talented jujutsu sorcerer, proven time and time again by the missions he gets sent on. He's also intelligent, observant not only in battle but also when it comes to others, always able to tell when something's wrong. However, his most noticeable trait, according to Itadori and Kugisaki, is that he's extremely secretive.
It's not a bad thing, not to him. There are better things to do with his time than sit and discuss his life story with his classmates, even though he thinks that Gojo might say otherwise just to piss him off.
Besides, keeping details about his life private means that no one can use any of his weaknesses against him. And that's especially handy considering that one of his weaknesses is you.
He's not exactly sure when it started. Maybe it was the day that Gojo sent him to pick you up at the train station alone, claiming that he had important business to attend to and that it was the least that Megumi could do considering the fact that Gojo had been going on so many missions lately.
Or maybe it was the day the two of you had been assigned your first mission together. You had been kind to him even when he remained cold and silent, eventually catching onto the fact that he didn't want to make small talk before switching the conversation to the mission at hand.
He had been mildly surprised when you came up with a foolproof plan to exorcise the curse, and the mission had gone according to plan with the exception of a gash on his upper arm. When you had knelt down to check on him, you had gently brushed him off, smiling widely as you complimented his technique and pet one of his divine dogs.
"Come on, let's get you back so that Shoko can check that out," you had said, gently grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. He had stumbled slightly upon standing, prompting you to wrap an arm around his waist to try and steady him. "Are you alright, Fushiguro?"
In that moment, Megumi couldn't stop the light blush that dusted his cheeks as he pulled away slightly, stating that he was fine and ready to go. Neither one of you chose to mention the fact that his hand didn't leave yours on the way back to Jujutsu Tech.
Ever since that day, he seemed to be hyperaware of your presence. If he was busy training with the upperclassmen and you happened to walk by, he knew. And he often ended up getting knocked down on his ass because of it. It bothered him to no end, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say that he hated it. Seeing your smile quickly became the highlight of his day, and he often found himself staring at you whenever you were around him.
Much like he was doing so at the moment.
"Eh? Fushiguro, what are you doing?" Nobara asks, leaning over to catch a glimpse of his face. Megumi scowls as Nobara's face comes into view, tearing his eyes away from where you were standing a few feet away with Maki.
"Nothing," he replies instantly, shoving his hands into his pockets as Nobara keeps talking. She goes quiet when Maki calls out both of their names, being met with a grin from her as she throws an arm around your shoulder.
"Good news!" Maki proclaims, smirking at the approaching first years. "I've just found our last team member for the exchange event. From now on, they'll be training with us."
Nobara cheers loudly as Maki gives you a friendly pat on the back, the two girls walking off towards the field and leaving you alone with Megumi. He meets your eyes as you approach him, a teasing smile on your lips as you elbow him lightly.
"How lucky are you?" you tease as the two of begin to follow after Maki and Nobara. "Now you get to see my pretty face more often!"
"That's the problem," Megumi mutters as he came to a stop, sighing softly at your statement. He could already feel himself getting distracted during training, and he didn't want to think about the punishment that Maki would surely give him is he allowed himself to get distracted at the actual event.
"What was that?"
He straightens when he hears your voice, shooting you a strained smile as he catches up with you. "Hmm? Nothing."
You give him a funny look as you start walking again, the two of you being met with the sight of Panda and Nobara facing off against each other as you approach the field. A giggle escapes your lips as you watch Panda toss Nobara around, and Megumi can't stop the fond smile that spreads across his face as he watches you.
"Well, that fight's over," Maki says with a grin before motioning to you. "You're up."
"Against who?" you ask, shrugging off your jacket and letting it drop to the floor. The grin on Maki's face turns almost evil, and Megumi fights off a shiver as she shifts her gaze towards him.
"Against Megumi. Who else?"
Megumi trudges towards you as Nobara and Panda arrive at Maki's side, and he finds himself growing tense at the thought of fighting against you in front of everyone.
"Excited?" you ask, a grin present on your face as you stretch your arms. Megumi responds with a silent nod, feeling his cheeks grow warm as you study him from head to toe before nodding to yourself.
"Are you two ready?" Maki shouts, arms crossed as she looks at the two of you. The two of you give her a thumbs up, and she nods at the sight before waving a hand. "Begin."
To say that Megumi is shocked when you manage to take him down in less than five minutes would be a lie. Everyone else however, is surprised at the outcome and Megumi can't hide the embarrassment on his face as he walks back to the sidelines. He comes to a stop when Maki grabs his arm gently, pulling him close to whisper in his ear before he can get too far.
"I hope that your personal feelings won't be an issue the actual day of the tournament."
Megumi pauses, scowling at her and ignoring the smirk on her face before pulling away and taking a seat a few feet away. His eyes remain on you for the rest of training, and he does his best to ignore the fact that he can feel Nobara's curious gaze burning into him.
"You're doing it again," Nobara sings, bouncing up to Megumi when the training session ends. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were staring at them the whole time."
"Good thing you know better then," Megumi bites back, hoping that Nobara hasn't noticed the way he flinched at her words. (She has.) Nobara laughs as she pushes past Megumi, walking up to you and proceeding to strike up a conversation. The two of you look over at Megumi before turning back to each other, causing Megumi's heart to speed up the slightest bit. He watches as you walk past him, giving him a soft smile as you made your way to the dorms.
Nobara gives him a simple thumbs up as she trails after you.
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two.
Things had been... complicated since Yuuji's death, and neither Megumi, Nobara, or you had found the time to truly sit around and mourn.
Training for the exchange event had taken up more time than you care to admit, and you were slightly disappointed at the fact that you hadn't even gotten the chance to truly say goodbye to your friend.
But luckily, the students from Kyoto were a good distraction.
"What kind of woman is your type? Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men that's fine too."
The silence that follows Todo's words is awkward, and you can't help the way your cheeks heat up when Megumi's eyes drift over to you. Todo follows Megumi's line of sight, eyes taking your features before he nods firmly and turns back to face Megumi.
"I don't have a particular preference," Megumi says before Todo can speak. "As long as they have an unshakeable character, I won't ask for more."
"Not a bad answer!" Nobara chimes, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you contemplate his words. "If you had said something like 'big boobs', I would've killed you."
The snort that leaves your lips brings Megumi's attention back to you, and the way his eyes soften as he watches you giggle at Nobara's words doesn't slip Todo's attention.
"I knew it! You're boring, Fushiguro," Todo proclaims, his chest puffing up as he approaches the shorter boy. Once he's close enough, he lowers his voice, granting him the courtesy of not having you hear his next words. "You spend all your time admiring them from afar, but I doubt you'll ever actually make a move."
Megumi bristles at Todo's words, opening his mouth to speak before getting thrown back by a powerful punch.
"Megumi!" you cry out, trying to rush over to him before being stopped by Nobara's cry. You turn to see her being held tightly by Mai, her pistol aimed at Nobara's side as she pulls her close.
"Move and I shoot," Mai says, smirking as she sees the irritated look on your face. You glance back at Megumi for a split second before lunging at Mai, causing her to release Nobara as she reels back at your sudden action. You manage to grab Mai's waist, pushing her down to the ground and falling on top of her at you try to snatch her weapon.
A knee to the stomach has you grunting, and you find yourself rolling over to avoid another strike from her. By the time the second years show up, Nobara has Mai's hair clutched tightly in her hand, earning an amused smile from Maki as she swiftly breaks up the fight. You check on Nobara first, and once you make sure that the only damage she took was to her ego, you set out to locate Megumi.
You pause slightly when you see him, walking alongside Panda and Inumaki with a slight limp, before you sprint over to his side. You immediately begin to fuss over him, reaching up to wipe away the blood that was dripping towards his eyes with your sleeve.
"Megumi! Oh my god, are you okay?" you ask softly, cupping his face with your hand and turning his head side to side to look for more injuries. Megumi slouches slightly to give you a better look, unwilling to swat you away as you mutter your concerns out loud. "Do you need anything? Water, or maybe some medicine. We should visit Shoko."
Silence ensues as the three of you await Megumi's response, but his eyes remain on you as you give him an expectant look.
"Mustard leaf," Inumaki's voice breaks the silence, and Megumi shakes his head lightly as he pulls away from you to look at his upperclassman. Inumaki's eyes are slightly crinkled, and Megumi can tell that Inumaki is smiling at the scene that had just played out in front of him.
"Oh my god, you're right," You say to Inumaki before turning back to Megumi. "What if you have a concussion?"
"I don't have a—"
"Salmon," Inumaki chimes in, cutting Megumi off as he nods along with you.
"You're right," you sigh, grabbing Megumi's hand in yours before turning around. "That blank stare was a little worrying. C'mon, we need to get you checked out."
Megumi shoots one last look at Inumaki and Panda, a little peeved off with the sudden turn of events. The only thing he's met with are the snickers of both second years, along with a thumbs up from Panda. Inumaki simply gives him a playful wink, sending him a wave as you drag him away.
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three.
"You know, if you keep staring at them, they're going to think you're a creep," Nobara says, interrupting Megumi's thoughts as she plops down on the step next to him. He tries his best to ignore her, giving up when she leans over and plucks the book he was holding out of his grasp, tossing it to the side with a small huff.
"I was reading that," Megumi hisses, a scowl making its way onto his face as he leans over to try and grab it.
"No you weren't, you were holding it upside down" Nobara scoffs, ignoring his mildly horrified look as she pushes him back into his seat. "Now spill. Why do you keep staring at them?"
The large grin on Nobara's face lets Megumi know that she already knows why he's acting like this; she just wants to hear him admit it. He refuses to speak, leaning back on the steps they're sitting on and crossing his legs. He looks off to the side, grunting softly when Nobara begins to poke his cheek.
"Fushiguro! I'm talking to you, don't be rude," she whines, gasping when his hand comes up to envelope her face to try and push her away. She struggles against him, failing miserably and only stopping when you approach.
"I'm sorry, I need to pass through," you say, stifling a laugh as they freeze. The two of them scramble up from their seats when they realize they've been blocking the entire pathway, bowing their heads slightly in apology as you pass by. You nod in thanks, your lips twitching as you give them an amused look. You come to a stop when you notice the book lying on the ground, picking up before turning back to face Megumi.
"This is a good book!" you chirp, your eyes lighting up in recognition as you gently dust off the cover. You hold it out to Megumi, waiting for him to take it from your hand. "It's one of my favorites."
He stares at you for a few seconds, and you find yourself shifting your weight from one foot to another as you wait for him to take the book from you. Nobara springs into action when it becomes clear that Megumi isn't going to move, grabbing the book from you as she chuckles softly.
"It is a good book!" she agrees, smiling a little bit too widely as you nod in agreement. You look back at Megumi, opening your mouth to speak before pausing and turning around.
"Well I'll see you two later," you say, waving to the two of them before walking away. As soon as you're out of sight, Nobara smacks Megumi with the book in her hand, effectively breaking him out of his daze. He gives her a glare, huffing lightly when she shoves the book into his chest.
"You're pathetic," she mutters, walking off in the same direction you had. Megumi sighs before taking his seat once more and cracking open his book.
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four.
"That's a really nasty bruise."
You're met with silence as you move through the infirmary, grabbing the first aid kit, before turning back to face Megumi. His eyes are still focused on the ground when you step closer to him, causing him to jolt as you let yourself settle in between his legs. He swallows harshly when your hand comes up to cup his cheek, tilting his face up towards you to get a better look at him.
"You need to start being more careful," you chide, using an alcohol pad to wipe at his face. You give him an apologetic look when he winces, and his eyes dart up to your face when you pull your hand away slightly.
"It's fine, you can continue," he says quietly, leaning into your palm when it returns to its previous spot. He watches the way you bite your lip in concern, your eyebrows furrowing as you gently brush his hair out of his face.
"You're injured too," he comments, his eyes tracing over the faint bruising on your jaw.
"I'm fine, I was with Toge," you retort, letting go of his face to grab some ointment.
"Toge?" Megumi asks absentmindedly, wondering when you had gotten on first-name basis with the second year. He tenses when you tilt his head back up again, the focus clear on your face as you do your best to gently apply the cool gel to his face.
"Yeah," you respond, pushing his hair back again to get better access to the gash on the crown of his head. You freeze for a moment when you catch his eye, shaking your head lightly before focusing on the injury. "I wasn't alone during the tournament but you were. You fought Kamo all on your own."
"I did," Megumi mutters, his eyes still on your face even when you pull back slightly. His lips twitch when he sees your mildly irritated look, speaking the first words that come to mind. "Were you worried about me?"
Megumi watches as your eyes widen briefly before you compose yourself, nodding softly as you reach for some band-aids. "You're pretty reckless, y'know? You can't blame me for being worried, especially after what happened with Todo."
You don't miss the way Megumi winces at your words, thinking about his confrontation with the older boy. He starts to turn his head away, only to be stopped when your other hand comes up to his cheeks to keep him in place. He holds his breath as you study him, feeling vulnerable under your intense gaze.
"Promise me," you finally say, breaking the silence. "Promise me you'll at least try to be more careful."
"I promise," Megumi murmurs, releasing the breath he had been holding. You nod in satisfaction before finally separating yourself from him, turning to put the first aid kit back in its place. Neither one of you notice that Shoko has been leaning against the doorframe the entire time, observing the two of you as you tended to his wounds.
She watches you flit around the space, putting things back in their proper places as Megumi watches. There's an awestruck look on his face as you talk about something random, trying to fill the silence as he mindlessly hums in agreement with whatever you're saying. It isn't until Shoko actually takes a step into the room that Megumi finally registers her presence, and she watches with thinly-veiled amusement as his cheeks flood with color.
A smirk pulls at her lips as she takes note his bandaged injuries, and she can't help the playful lilt that tinges her words as she finally speaks.
"I was told that Megumi had been injured and needed my help but I can see that you've been well taken care of."
"Shoko!" you yelp, whirling around and leaning against a table as you give her a flustered wave. "When did you get here?"
"A couple of minutes ago," Shoko confesses, schooling her features as she approaches Megumi. She studies him for a minute before turning back to you. "You did a really good job. He's free to go if he doesn't want me to use my technique on him."
"Well, I'll leave you two to discuss that," you say laughing nervously as you inch towards the door. "Bye Shoko! I'll see you later, Megumi!"
Shoko snorts when she sees the way Megumi tries to hide a smile at your use of his first name, shaking her head before slipping on a pair of gloves and prodding at the bruising on his jaw.
"Are you okay, kiddo?" she asks flatly, watching him closely for any signs of discomfort. He grumbles under his breath before pushing himself to his feet, nodding his head in response to Shoko's question.
"'m fine," he grunts, earning a skeptical look. He sighs after a few seconds, crossing his arms when Shoko doesn't back down. "I promise I'm okay. I don't need you to heal me. Can I go now?"
"Sure," Shoko concedes, stripping off her gloves and throwing them into the trash. "If you feel any pain or discomfort you know where to find me."
Megumi nods once before making his way towards the door, pausing in the doorframe to send Shoko a wary look.
"Don't tell Gojo anything," he warns lowly, shoulders tense as she shoots him a blank look.
"I won't."
Megumi gives her a thankful look before leaving the infirmary, and Shoko merely smiles to herself before whipping out her cell phone.
Gojo was going to have a field day when he heard about everything she had witnessed.
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five.
"I still don't understand why we have to be here," Megumi grumbles, exasperation laced in his words as he trails after Gojo. Your so-called teacher had pulled you, Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara out for a day in the city, claiming that he wanted to see how much all of you had improved. It wasn't until you had all arrived in the city that Gojo had admitted that he was only really testing Yuuji and Nobara, especially since the former had been missing for a while.
"We can go get food while they deal with the curses," you whisper, coming up beside Megumi and nudging him with your shoulder. He merely hums in response, trying to act unbothered as Nobara shoots him an amused look.
"Doubtful. We're probably here to act as backup," he whispers back, earning a muffled laugh from you.
The five of you come to a stop in the middle of an empty street, being met with the sight of a deceivingly cozy house. You shiver as a breeze blows through the street, shooting Yuuji a kind smile as he comes to a stop next to you.
"Oh, are you cold?" he asks, eyes wide with concern as he looks at you. "Here, you can have my jacket!"
You smile gratefully as he begins to unzip his hoodie, flinching when you hear a loud yell.
"Itadori! Get over here!"
"Just a minute!" Yuuji yells back, ignoring Gojo's call as he fiddles with his zipper.
"Now!" Nobara snaps, her foot tapping against the pavement impatiently as she beckons Yuuji over to her side.
"Why are you being so— oh!" Yuuji says, his eyes lighting up with some sort of realization before giving you an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back."
You nod in understanding, watching as Yuuji joins Gojo and Nobara a few meters away. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold, Yuuji's body no longer present to block the air.
"Here, you can have my sweater."
You turn your head at the familiar voice, being met with the sight of Megumi holding out his sweatshirt. You hesitate slightly before taking it from him, quickly slipping it on and giving him a blinding smile.
"Thanks, Fushiguro!" you chirp, unconsciously snuggling into the fabric before taking a seat on the curb. Megumi remains standing for a few minutes, sending one last look towards his classmates before taking a seat next to you. He lets his elbows rest on his knees, his chin sitting comfortably on his palms as he observes the house Yuuji and Nobara are currently approaching. He takes note of the fact that Gojo had chosen not to mention what grade the curses were, and he mentally prepares himself to fight just in case.
He lets his gaze drift back over to you when he realizes you haven't spoken even once since sitting down, the slight concern on his face melting when he sees you staring intensely at the ground in front of you. Feeling the weight of his stare, you glance up to meet his eyes, sticking your tongue out at him and giggling when he huffs in amusement. He watches as your gaze drifts back to the concrete in front of you before your eyes dart back to him, the back-and-forth motion continuing for a bit before he finally speaks.
"What are you looking at?"
You lean forward slightly, reaching for something on the ground before turning to Megumi with a smile.
"This," you say softly, holding out your hand. He looks down to see a flower, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks back up at you.
"It's... pretty," he says, watching as twirl the flower between your fingers.
"Yeah, it is," you agree, giving him a shy smile. "It's the color of your eyes."
Your words cause Megumi's cheeks to burst with color, and clears his throat before he murmurs a soft thank you. You grin at his reaction before scooting closer to him, your elbow brushing against his and causing him to stiffen when you lean in slightly.
"You're welcome," you say quietly, raising your arm before pausing and giving him an uncertain look. "May I?"
Megumi nods silently, holding his breath as you lean in even closer to tuck the flower behind his ear. His eyes never leave your face as you busy yourself with the task at hand, softening when he notices the way your tongue peeks out from in between your lips in concentration as you do your best to position the flower.
There's a sparkle in your eyes that threaten to make his heart race, and Megumi finds himself wondering if you knew just how much of an effect you had on him. His eyes widen when your fingertips brush against his cheek, and you quickly draw your hand back down to your side as you take in the sight in front of you.
"It looks perfect," you finally say, your eyes never leaving his as you speak. There's a beat of silence before Megumi opens his mouth to respond, the words spilling out from his lips before he can stop them.
"I think you loo—"
"Hey! Lovebird! Get over here," Gojo shouts, his voice causing the two of you to scramble away from each other. Megumi closes his eyes for a second, mentally thanking Gojo for cutting off his statement as he gets to his feet. He turns to see Gojo wearing a big smile, seemingly satisfied with the reaction he had gotten from the two of them. "Hurry up! I think Yuuji and Nobara might need some help."
"Told you so," Megumi says, a smile on your face as you roll your eyes at his statement.
"Good luck, Fushiguro," you say, your quiet words drawing his attention to you. He looks down to see you giving him a thumbs up, and he simply smiles and nods before making his way over to Gojo. The older sorcerer's smile doesn't fade even as he approaches, and it only get wider when he holds out an arm to stop Megumi.
"Nice flower, it matches your eyes!" Gojo says slyly, plucking the bud from behind Megumi's ear and earning a scowl from him. "I'll take care of this for you. After all, you wouldn't want this to get ruined would you? Although I'm surprised it didn't spontaneously combust from how hard you were blushing."
Megumi gives Gojo one last scathing look before heading towards the entrance of the house, doing his best to ignore Gojo's laugh and focus on the mission at hand.
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six.
You stop in your tracks when you hear a call of your name, the sound of Yuuji's voice bringing a small smile to your face as you turn around. Your smile only grows wider when you notice Megumi trailing behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he looks down at the ground.
"Are you busy right now?" Yuuji asks, coming to a stop in front of you. You shake your head slowly, sending a glance at Megumi that Yuuji doesn't miss. "Fushiguro and I were about to get some food. Do you want to join us?"
"I'd love to," you utter, earning a wide grin from Yuuji. You snicker under your breath, his excitement reminding you of a puppy.
"Great! Then let's go! I've been wanting to check this place out for ages."
You trail behind Yuuji, throwing the occasional glance back at Megumi until you eventually slow down to walk beside him. The messy-haired boy shoots you a quick glance, looking away when he sees you giving him a curious look.
"What's up?" you ask, stepping closer to him and nudging his shoulder with yours. He shakes his head silently, raising his eyes to look at you as he steps closer to you to avoid crashing into somebody.
"Nothing," he says after a while, wondering if you would keep the conversation going. He's a little disappointed when you don't, but you also don't move away from him, instead choosing to call out your replies to whatever questions Yuuji asks as he walks ahead of the two of you.
"Oh, I almost forgot," you suddenly say, coming to a stop a few shops away from the restaurant Yuuji was heading towards. "I need to buy some stuff for Nobara, but you two go on ahead without me! I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Are you sure?" Megumi asks instantly, receiving a nod from you. He hesitates slightly, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile before waving him away. Yuuji gives you a sound of acknowledgment before tugging Megumi away, laughing quietly when he keeps looking over his shoulder in your direction.
"Come on," Yuuji says, opening the door for Megumi before stepping inside after him. "They'll be fine without your watchful gaze. Do you have any idea of what you're gonna get?"
"No," Megumi replies, taking a seat at an empty table and looking out the window. "I think I'll wait for them to get back before ordering."
Yuuji smiles at Megumi's words, forcing himself to look down at his phone in an attempt to act nonchalant. "So, how long have you had feelings for them?"
Megumi's eyes widen at Yuuji's words, and he finds himself mentally scolding himself for being too obvious with his feelings. He has to be, especially if Yuuji had been able to figure it out. He remains silent, letting his eyes drop down to the table.
"You should tell them," Yuuji says earnestly, all hints of teasing gone from his tone. His words still manage to catch Megumi off guard, and he glances at Yuuji to see him still looking down at his phone, the screen dark.
"No."
"I'm serious," Yuuji whines. "You should tell them. I think the two of you are perfect for each other."
"What exactly am I supposed to say?" Megumi asks, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before attempting to make eye contact with Yuuji and sighing when the pink-haired boy doesn't look up. "I really like you and and I stare at you like a dumbass because I don't know how to tell you how I feel?"
Yuuji snorts at his words, opening his mouth to tease Megumi before being cut off.
"You like me?"
The two boys look up in a panic when they see you standing close to their table, a small bag clutched tightly in one of your hands. Yuuji gives Megumi an apologetic look that he chooses to ignore, knowing that the both of them had been too caught up in their conversation to notice you approaching.
"I'm gonna go order," Yuuji says quietly, sliding out of his seat and heading towards the counter. He turns back to give Megumi a thumbs up behind your back, nodding his head as he mouths the words 'go for it!'. Megumi turns his attention to you when you slide into the seat across from him, giving him a smile before picking up one of the menus on the table. An awkward silence settles upon the two of you, and Megumi can't help but notice the furtive glances you keep sending his way.
"So," you finally say, breaking the silence as you put the menu down. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you sigh softly. "You like me?"
Megumi hesitates, watching the way your eyebrows furrow slightly as you wait for his response.
"Yes," he finally says, looking back out the window to avoid your gaze. He stiffens when he hears you let out a relieved sigh, giggling softly before speaking.
"Well that's good," you breathe, causing Megumi to whip his head back around to look at you. He watches as you rummage through the bag you had been holding, pulling out a book before handing it to him. It was the sequel to the book he had been reading a couple of weeks ago, the one you had picked up when Nobara had tossed it aside. "I was hoping to give this to you at some point, and maybe even ask you out when I did so."
Megumi's cheeks warm as he smiles at you, neither one of you noticing the way Yuuji pumps his first into the air a few feet away.
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+ one.
You let your eyes drift up from your phone and land on Megumi, who is currently lying next to you as he reads the book you had bought him. The two of you are lounging in your dorm, your back pressed up against the headboard while he lays down on your pillows.
His eyes are focused on the words he's reading, and you take the opportunity to study him quietly. His hair hangs messily like always, but you choose to hold back from running your hands through it in order to keep watching him. Your eyes trace the slope of his nose, trailing down to his lips before following his jawline back up his face and finally settling on his eyes. You sit there admiring him, thinking about how unfair it is for him to have such long lashes.
You bite back a gasp when his gaze suddenly snaps to you, and you quickly look back down at your phone in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. You can still feel Megumi's eyes on you, and you shift uneasily in your spot before shyly looking back up at him.
"What?" you ask, your cheeks burning as you try to play innocent.
"I was just wondering if you were done staring at me," Megumi says casually, a faint smile on his face as he looks back down at his book. You gape at him for a few seconds before responding.
"I was not staring!" you cry out indignantly, scrunching your nose when Megumi gives you a knowing look. "Besides, if my memory is correct, you got caught staring at me by literally everyone else!"
Megumi rolls his as he sits up, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you before shaking his head lightly.
"Besides," you continue, not giving him the chance to speak. "What's so wrong with staring at my boyfriend."
A red tint fills Megumi's cheeks at your words and he merely scoffs before turning the page. You rest your head on his shoulder, glancing down at the book and attempting to read along with him. When he fails to turn the page after a few minutes, you glance up, only to see him staring at you with a soft smile on his face. You smile back at him before leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and you watch as he tosses the book to the foot of your bed before cupping your face with both hands and pressing a kiss a to your lips.
You give him another soft peck before you pull away from him, your eyes fluttering open to see Megumi studying your face. There's a smug smile on his face as he takes in your dazed state, and he opens his mouth to comment on it before you beat him to the punch, your words causing his smile to drop as he groans.
"Now who's staring?"
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reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!
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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months
Note
So…
Alastor is a deer, yes? How would a relationship with him and a Coyote Reader go, I’ve been having brain rot over it for the past few days, it’s just to ironic
Much love xoxo
I definitely can do! Hehe. I love contrasts like this and I think about stuff like this too. I chose bears, not coyotes. It’s so silly yet perfect! Alastor out here hating dogs so this’ll be an enemies to lovers thing… not my favourite but new
Alastor- The Prey and the Predator
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Let’s get this clear… Alastor does not like dogs. He actively dislikes dogs so when he finds you. A coyote sinner, he is not interested and he’ll avoid you like the plague. You remind him too much of the dogs of his past that he despises
For a while, Alastor has a one-sided disliking towards you. Solely because you’re a Coyote sinner but after some more time of working/staying at the hotel. He begins to examine you more as a person and less for your canine features
And he realises just how much of a prick he was being for… mostly no reason. You are a dog on the outside but you’re a dove on the inside, Alastor supposed he can try get around the whole Coyote thing you have… it’s not like you want to be a Coyote
Alastor goes from ignoring and snarling at you openly to shyly approaching you with a bouquet of roses and asking for you to forgive him. It’s so interesting how hew went from closed-off, uncaring and hateful to your overall presence to clearly having a fat crush on you. Your personality is beautiful, he eventually can ignore the dog features
Now. If you think you’re the one who’s dom in this relationship, just because you’re the coyote and Al’s the deer. You’re very wrong. Al’s a predator in a prey’s body, a wolf in deer’s fur. He is in charge and he’s the one hunting you down
Alastor has a mix of prey and predator instincts around you when you’re angry. He has the urge to subdue you when you’re in your own predator instincts mode but he also has the urge to avoid you. His predator urges always wins though
However, you swear you can smell delicious fresh venison off the Radio Demon… he does smell gorgeous but you’re not a cannibal like that
Alastor actually can’t help but find the way your tail wags when he pets through your ears and the soft dog-like whines of happiness you let out when hugging him… insanely cute. He may not like dogs but he has a exception for this precious coyote
Alastor doesn’t find it funny when you joke about eating him. It’s quite a sensitive topic and he regularly asks you to not make any type of joke, such as that. This connection you share with him may have grown from being a one-sided hatred to a full-blown relationship but that doesn’t mean he will completely excuse all dog-like mannerisms you have
Alastor actually really likes it when you climb into his lap and curl up. You’re the same size as Vaggie, maybe a bit taller. You’re a shorter person but you’re not so small to be identified as an actual Coyote, you just have the ears and tail but yet. Here you are, curled up and sleeping in his lap in the most canine-like way possible
Alastor has a bad sense of general personal hygiene but yet, he needs you to regularly check up on your own personal hygiene since he cannot stand the smell of your wet dirty fur…
Angel Dust definitely gave you a collar and leash for your birthday, as a sick joke and Alastor is like… “may we use it?”
Alastor enjoys grooming your fur. Your soft, you may let out a few coyote growls here and there but you’re not going to hurt him so he can trust you to stay obedient and still whilst he brushes through your ears and tail
Alastor has made a cute and convenient rule with you; you both communicate in emergencies through animal noises. You’ll bark coyote-like out, he’ll bleat deer-like out. It’s the way you two alarm each other of something happening. The second you bark, he knows something is going down and you’re calling for him
Alastor lets you touch him and his deer features, no problem and no need for permission. Your claws aren’t that strong and all you really have is incredible speed, agility, jaw strength and night vision. You don’t actually have any ability to harm him, even when he flinches here and there, out of pure instinct
Alastor calls you a ‘bitch’ all the time to other people and out loud, all to screw and mess around with you. He’s an asshole of a classy gentleman, he’ll be offensive. Even to his partner! Yes, you’re a bitch but you’re his bitch
Alastor, at one point, will finally open up about his trauma centred around dogs and explain to you exactly why he treated you so awfully at first. How he went from a hater to a lover. He is so glad you’re quite understanding and patient with him so when he lays down the rules of your relationship with him, you accept them and that grows his love for you even more
You’re incredible, for being part a wild vicious canine such as a Coyote, darling~!
“My dear. Let’s ease up on the growling, what’s gotten you so irritate? Did you get into another disagreement with my fellow, Husk?”
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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months
Text
Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)
Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.
Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader
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Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it. 
Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support. 
Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed. 
— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me. 
You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you? 
Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable. 
He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts. 
— Dismissed. 
He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want. 
— B…but…
You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…
Colonel has a problem. 
He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric. 
It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances. 
He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect. 
— Sir? Is everything alright? 
You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator. 
Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t. 
— I thought you’d heard me the first time. 
— But I brought coffee.
— They make coffee machines in cows now? 
— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…
— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away? 
— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…
— They really sent me a magic cow, ja? 
— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.
You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you. 
You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow. 
He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…
Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable. 
— You forgot the milk. 
— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk. 
So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics. 
— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty. 
— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir. 
— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here. 
His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office. 
But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise. 
— Take off your shirt, Schatzen. 
He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay. 
— You want me to…take off something else, sir?
A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees. 
Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already. 
— Ja. Bra is next. 
You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger. 
Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though. 
— Braves Mädchen…good girl. 
You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target. 
Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples. 
— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…
He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window. 
— You already think of the next time, Schatzen? 
König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you. 
He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life. 
You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation. 
— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…
— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel? 
— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…
— Language. 
He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him. 
Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.
Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest. 
— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…
He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop. 
Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide. 
He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges. 
He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat. 
König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created. 
— How do you feel? 
He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less. 
— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.
You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles. 
— My pleasure, Schatzen. 
You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain. 
He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all. 
3K notes · View notes
theebussyqueensblog · 21 days
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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : bitter and sweet
↳˗ˏˋsimon “ghost” riley x readerˊˎ˗ ↴
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content: milf! reader (i’m back on my bullshit), ghost is retired and exhausted, so much fluff it’s ridiculous
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: cunnilingus, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, breeding kink, lemme know if i missed any
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes: did you guys see that alleged leaked ghost face?(google it) so umm absolutely fucking not lmfao. use these drawings by @/umikochannart on twt and this one by @shkretart for reference
y/n is british with slight physical descriptions(has locs and some body fat cause she had a baby duh)
gifting this to @kneelingshadowsalome go read their könig fics, they’re phenomenal. have me kicking my my feet and squirming in bed everytime. also gifting to @charnelhouse cause their ghost fics have me clawing the walls.
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simon riley and his loyal companion, riley, a fluffy german shepherd, visit their favourite cafe for their daily routine. as they stand in line, simon patiently waits for his order while wearing a mask, a more acceptable accessory for their outings. it's a change from his former work mask, but it’ll do. the bustling sounds of the cafe mix with the quiet presence of a man and dog, which simon tunes out, just waiting for the two people in front to order. his eyes drift to the baby peeking over the woman’s shoulder. she stares back from under her little bucket hat, her small mouth open in awe. simon wiggles his brows once at her, and she responds with a tiny-toothed smile and gurgles. she looks down at riley beside his legs and ‘waves’, if waving is opening and closing her tiny fist a few times. simon can't help but chuckle at the adorable interaction between the baby and riley.
simon finally gets to order his coffee, a tall black with a dash of milk, and steps aside to wait. right next to the mom and baby again.
the baby gurgles and waves at riley again. the mother finally turns to see what has piqued her baby’s curiosity, looking down at the dog by simon's leg.
“yes, that’s a dog,” you coo at your daughter. “can you say ‘doggy’?”
“obby,” she babbles back.
“or puppy? pup-py?” you encourage to no avail. you wave at riley and finally take a peek at her owner. “sorry, she just really likes dogs.”
“s'fine,” he replies.
you’re pretty: locs tied back in a scarf to show your whole face, baby on your hip who he’s now realised is wearing a baby version of your floral, pink dress. there’s no ring on your finger, nor is there a tan line to indicate the wearing of one. you’re also young; simon could guess you couldn’t be older than him, maybe a year or two younger.
“you can pet her; she’s friendly.” he surprises himself with the words. he would never offer riley to be petted by a stranger, but something about you makes him want to break his own rules. you bend slightly to pet riley, letting your daughter pat her wet snout. “she’s very pretty, isn’t she? what’s her name?”
“riley.”
“hello riley. good dog.” you straighten back up and hoist the baby higher up your hip. “where are my manners? i’m y/n.”
he hesitates for a brief moment, then gives his name. you nod in acknowledgement and smile at the baby. “and this is maya. say hi, chunky.” you wave her chubby little arm. she fusses and pulls it away, hiding her face in your neck. “don’t tell me you’re shy now.” you giggle and pat her back.
you take in this hulk of a man and his black tee stretched out on broad, corded muscle. cargo pants are sinfully tight on thick, equally muscular thighs. and the half sleeve in his left arm. your neck feels a little warm, and you shift in place at the feeling of a budding crush. “would you like to have coffee together?” you offer.
simon glances at the baristas making the drinks and calling out names, then back at you. "sure," he replies, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement as you lead the way to a table in the corner of the bustling cafe. as you sit down, you can't help but notice the way simon's eyes seem to linger on you, making your heart race a little faster. the anticipation of getting to know this intriguing man over a cup of coffee fills you with a mix of nerves and excitement. you sit maya on the high chair next to you with a small cupcake you bought for her, fixing her hat. she squeals and pats the tray, smiling at you. you smile back and pinch her chin before turning back to your companion.
simon is mysterious,which adds to his charm. when he slides down that black mask to sip his coffee, you gasp softly at his rugged good looks. there are a few mysterious scars on his face, which somehow add to his charm. and you’re curious.
“what happened to your lip?”
he shrugs nonchalantly. “old work.”
“what did you do?”
he takes a long swig of his coffee and swallows as if it’s not borderline scalding. “i was in the army. killed terrorists and all that.”
your mouth drops open, then closes, and your eyes widen. “oh…wow. thank you for serving our country.”
he nods. he’s heard it countless times. it's just a robotic answer at this point. he stares at your fingers drumming on the wooden table, the other hand wrapped around your coffee cup. maya squeals again, wanting your attention. you shush her and wipe the frosting from the cupcake away from her mouth. riley walks over to sniff and lick a piece of cake off the floor. maya thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world and laughs brightly, clapping her hands.
“little bugger,” you sigh fondly.
simon clears his throat. “so…her father?”
for the first time, he sees you looking mildly annoyed. “bugged off somewhere as soon as i had her, came back to try and rekindle things, and i told him to fuck off.”
you hate telling the story because it always gets you sad looks and ‘poor dears’, but you don’t need the pity. after struggling for the past year to pick yourself up with your daughter, you don’t need pity. but simon’s eyes don’t hold the pity you expected. he just looks thoughtful. “his loss.”
your cheeks burn. “yeah.”
              ‍              
and that’s how it starts.
              ‍              
seeing—simon wouldn’t call it dating just yet—is easy. you both enjoy each other's company, finding comfort and solace in your shared experiences. the connection grows stronger with each passing day, bringing a sense of hope and healing to both of your lives.
as time goes on, you begin to notice that your feelings for each other are deepening, and you find yourself thinking about simon more and more. you start to wonder where this relationship might lead and if it could turn into something more serious.
simon feels a warmth in his chest whenever he thinks about you, a feeling he’s not quite used to but is learning to embrace. he finds himself opening up to you more, sharing his hopes and fears without hesitation. vulnerability no longer feels like a weakness but rather a gateway to deeper connections and understanding. simon is slowly starting to realise that being vulnerable with you is not only enjoyable but also necessary for the growth of your relationship.
maya can’t get enough of him; she always squealed in joy whenever he would come over to your apartment and toddle her way over for uppies.
“hey, tot.” simon chuckles and tickles her belly. “where’s mum?”
your voice calls from somewhere in the apartment where you’re cleaning up some toys. simon carries maya into the living room, quickly pecking your cheek. “hi, love.”
“mmm, you smell nice,” you hum.
“trying something new.”
you smile and go up on your toes to kiss him. maya pats your face and babbles her disapproval, pushing you away. you laugh and gently move maya's hand away, giving simon a playful look. "it looks like someone's jealous," you tease, making simon chuckle and pull you into an armed hug. "she'll have to get used to sharing me with you," he says, planting a kiss on your forehead. maya giggles and claps her hands, clearly enjoying the attention she's getting from both of you. as maya has a great time, simon looks at you with a loving gaze. it suddenly dawns on him that he might be  in love with you. the way your smile lights up the room, the warmth of your touch, and the way you care for maya—it all adds up to something more. as he holds you close, he realises that he never wants to let go. love has found its way into his heart, and he couldn't be happier about it.
he sits with maya on the couch, holding one of her picture books and showing her how to sound out the words while you iron a few feet away. the simple domestic scene fills him with a sense of contentment and belonging, knowing that he has found a home in your relationship.
“boo!” she points at the blue ‘b’.
“mhm,” simon hums. “that’s b, that is.” and flips the page to the yellow ‘c’. “what about this one?”
“boo,” she repeats.
simon nods. “very good, love.”
she claps and wiggles on his lap, pleased as punch. simon touches the soft curls on her head, wondering what kind of relationship they would have if you and him went long term. how he would handle her growing up and be there for every milestone in her life. would he be the father figure she needs, or would he struggle to connect with her as she gets older? these thoughts linger in his mind as he continues to read with her, hoping for a future where they can build a strong bond together.
              ‍          ───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰ ───
intimacy isn’t something simon is familiar with. he's always kept his distance, afraid of getting too close. but with you, it feels different—like he's finally found a connection worth embracing. with each moment spent together, simon's walls begin to crumble, revealing a vulnerability he never knew existed. the love and care you show him slowly chip away at his fears, allowing him to open up in ways he never thought possible. as he lets you in, simon realises that vulnerability doesn't equate to weakness, but rather strength in being able to trust and be truly seen. he starts to understand that true intimacy is not about losing oneself but about gaining a deeper understanding of each other.
simon begins to see that vulnerability is the key to forming a genuine and lasting bond with someone special.
              ‍          
as you and simon stand together in the kitchen, sharing hot cocoa on a chilly evening after putting maya to bed, the warmth of the drink matches the warmth of your connection. as you lean in for a kiss, simon feels his heart flutter with a mix of excitement and vulnerability. the mugs go down as the kiss deepens. simon’s strong arms lift you onto the counter, pulling your thighs apart so he can settle himself between them.
“simon,” you breathe and throw your arms around his broad shoulders, back arching.
“what is it, love?” he rumbles back, planting soft kisses on your neck and jaw. “tell me what you want.”
“fuck, simon.” you hold his wrist and guide it under your oversized shirt. skin on skin. simon's touch sends shivers down your spine as he explores every inch of your body with a hunger that matches your own. the intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless, lost in a world where only the two of you exist. “i want your mouth on me, hun.”
mischief glints in those deep blue eyes of his as he smirks, his lips trailing down your neck and chest. “would’ve done that anyway.”
the panties come off; thrown somewhere into the void of the kitchenette. you bite your lip in anticipation as simon slowly spreads your legs open and crouches so he’s face to face with your pussy. “fuck, sweetheart,” he rumbles. “y’smell amazing.”
you arch your back in anticipation as simon's tongue starts its slow exploration, flicking and teasing with expert precision. your breath hitches as he finds just the right spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. the sound of his muffled groans against your skin only adds to the intensity of the moment. you close your eyes and surrender to the sensation, lost in a world of pure bliss where nothing else matters but the exquisite pleasure he's giving you. his fingers join in on the action, tracing circles around your swollen clit and sliding into your soaked insides, causing your body to tremble with desire. 
“you like that, don't you, baby?” simon's voice is husky and filled with lust. you moan in response, unable to form coherent words as his touch becomes more urgent and demanding. your hips instinctively grind against his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he's providing. "that's it, sweetheart," he growls, his fingers delving deeper inside you and curling to hit that perfect spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, other hand gripping your thigh and keeping it spread to the side. as simon busies himself between your legs, you can't help but reach under your shirt to touch your boobs. the sensation of your fingers grazing against your nipples only intensifies the pleasure you're feeling. your breath hitches as you continue to explore the sensitive skin, feeling a rush of arousal building inside you.
"damn, baby, you like when i make you feel good, don't you?" simon's voice is low against your cunt as he watches you indulge in your own pleasure. "i can feel how wet you are for me," he whispers, his fingers moving faster inside you. you moan in response, the sounds of your arousal only urging him to push you further. with each delicious friction his hand provides, you find yourself gasping for air, craving more of his touch. he leans in close, his breath hot against you, as he murmurs, "you're so damn sexy when you touch yourself." the combination of his words and actions sends you spiralling towards a mind-blowing climax, your body trembling with desire. "you're mine, sweetheart," he growls possessively before taking you over the edge of ecstasy.
your body tenses, hole clenching around his thick fingers and drooling slick down his wrist. you bite your lip to stifle your cries of pleasure so you don’t wake up your little resident.
simon can’t get his pants off fast enough; cock aching in it’s confines. you bite your lip when he smacks the wet tip against your clit, drawing his hips back and pressing it against your drenched hole. it’s like sticking his cock into warm, wet magma. he full body shivers; the kind of shiver reminiscent of entering a warm room after being in the freezing cold, and pulls his hips back, watching the thick strands of your arousal cling to his cock and pelvis. the kitchen fills with your grunts and groans combined with the wet sound of skin on skin.
“fuck, simon,” you whine and lift your heavy eyes to his face. “right there, baby.”
“there?” he swirls his hips until your pussy clenches. “there.”
with short, jerky motions he finds your sweet spot with ease, dragging the flared head of his cock over it until your cunt starts drooling down your ass and onto the counter through another orgasm. his pace is far from brutal, nowhere near the other times where he practically shoved you into the bed, or wall, or wherever he decides to take you, but he’s strong and steady, hips beating in a staccato rhythm against your plush thighs. simon fixates on your face, watching for every reaction and expression he’s memorised over the past months. when your nose scrunches and eyes pinch shut, he knows you’re close again. his movements speed up, still hard and deep, filling you wholly and completely. his hips stutter and he swears softly under his breath and pressing his forehead against yours. your hands release the counter and hold onto the sides of his face, making him look at you.
“i want a baby with you,” you whisper sweetly.
that does him in.
his arms wrap around your middle, pulling you impossibly closer and cums with a harsh groan, cock lazily pumping his load into you as deep as possible. you fall over the edge shortly after, clinging to him and gasping through it.
“fuck…shit,” he grumbles when the high dies, backing up. his cock falls out of you with a wet sound, cum slowly dripping out of your sore cunt. simon kisses you gently, savouring the cocoa on your lips.  
“did you mean it?”
“hm?” you hum in a daze.
“what you said.”
you stroke his arms, smiling warmly. “yeah. eventually.”
you’re worried for a brief moment it’ll scare him off, especially with how intensely he’s staring at you. he eventually he huffs a laugh and hides his face in your neck. “me too, love. let’s go to bed.”
              ‍          
              ‍          
simon lays in bed, his body rigid with fear, as the memories of the war invade his mind once again. the images of chaos and destruction flash before his eyes, tormenting him in his sleep. as he tosses and turns, you wrap your arms around him, whispering soothing words to calm his troubled mind. however, even your comforting touch couldn't chase away the nightmares that haunted simon's dreams. he could still hear the screams of his fellow soldiers and the roar of gunfire echoing in his ears. the war had left its mark on him, a scar that no amount of love could heal. and as he clung to you, silently grateful for your presence, he knew that some wounds could never fully heal. but in that moment, he found solace in the warmth of your embrace—a fleeting respite from the horrors of war. and as he held onto you, he realised that perhaps, with time and patience, he could learn to live with his demons and find peace within himself.
“you’re okay,” you whisper, your hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. simon buries his face in your chest, listening to you humming a lullaby he’s heard you sing for maya countless times. his breathing evens out, and his body relaxes into you.
“tomorrow we’ll take riley and maya to the park for some fresh air, yeah?” you continue in that soft voice. normally, your ‘baby voice’ as he calls it because it’s reserved for maya would make him roll his eyes and chuckle, but now it’s working to relax him. “you want to go to the park?”
there’s a moment of silence before you feel him nod. “mmm, we’ll go to the park then.”
simon drifts off to the smell of cocoa butter and brown sugar.
              ‍      
              ‍      
the park is exactly what simon needed. he sits on the bench, watching maya discover she can spin around in circles until she falls down into a giggling mess. riley sniffs her face, barking softly until she stands back up. you’re watching a few feet away, a big sun hat shadowing your face as you take pictures with a smile.
maya picks up a rock, waddling over to show it to you. you crouch to see, gasping excitedly. “ooh, that’s pretty, that is. go show simon.”
she nods and toddles over as fast as she can to simon. “wiwey,” she babbles her version of his surname. no matter how many times he corrects her to just say ‘simon’, she insists his last name is his first name.
“what is it, sweetheart?” he leans over to look. “that’s a stone.”
“yeh.”
“what are you gonna do with it?”
she stares at the jagged stone, little gears turning in her head. simon already knows where this is going. as soon as she lifts it to her mouth, he grabs it out of her hand. “nope nope, not today.”
she fusses and reaches for it.
“y’cant eat stones, love,” simon chastises. he stands firm when she starts crying. you come over with riley and maya clings to your dress, sobbing and pointing at simon.
“she tried to eat the stone?” you ask, amused.
“mhm. clearly i committed a grave sin takin’ it from her.”
you chuckle and rummage through your tote, taking out a mini chocolate bar. “here you go, chunky.”
maya’s crying ceases completely when you give her a piece, stone forgotten. “mhm, i thought so.”
she giggles and eats the chocolate bar, waddling to riley to finish their spinning game. simon holds your hip, other hand caressing the soft pudge of your belly over your sundress. you tut and bat his hand away. “stoppit.”
“it’s sexy.”
“we’re in public.”
“don’t care.” he caresses it again. you relent and let him finish, carding your hands through his soft hair. 
“feeling better?”
“yeah. thanks, love. i needed this.”
“good to know—maya don’t eat grass! for fucks sakes.” you rush to stop the toddler from killing herself. simon leans back. he could get used to this.
              ‍       ───✱*.。:。✱bonus*.:。✧*.。✰ ───
“what the bloody hell is that?” soap gawks at simon's arms.
maya puts her pudgy fist in her mouth. simon fixes her hat, calm as ever. “this is maya.”
“who the fuck is maya?”
price, the gentle ‘old’ man he is, gives her a small wave and a smile. “she’s my new daughter,” simon replies, his eyes softening as he looks down at the baby in his arms. price chuckles. “congratulations, mate. bloody cute, ain’t she? so this is what you’ve been up to. where’s the missus?”
“not a missus.” ‘yet’ he keeps the last part to himself, a small smile playing on his lips thinking about how you’ve been fussing over a wedding since he popped the question a few weeks back. simon had always wanted a family of his own, and now he finally had one, even if it was unexpected. “her mom's at work, so i’m watching her.”
soap gestures between simon and maya. “are we just gonna fucking ignore this?”
his other friends fawn over maya, trying to claim favourite uncle privileges. maya giggles at the attention, squealing in delight. her little fist grips simon’s shirt, stretching out the neckline a bit as she babbles incoherently, but he doesn’t mind. as long as she and her mom are happy.
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes: hope you enjoyed 🤍 i’m trying to branch out into other fandoms i’m in.
. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ @bookwormsenpai @kaedeakeshisworld @moneygal0re @simpliheavenli @qupidology @gardenof-venus @bunnyyamor @weird-dere @itadorismommy @keijimilk @boujeeceo @chaoticevilbakugo @rav3nmuse @pytbeautiful @luvvvjada @iluvchoso @preciousamethyst @auroranextdoor @yuujispinkhair @wenumsmol @lem-hhn @diazzd-awesome @royalty-cashinout @dancingwithdeities ] ࿐ྂ
visuals: | ★ | ☆
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bizbat · 1 month
Text
When They're In Love - Jason Todd - 2
🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️
🐼JJK Masterlist🐼
~ Fem terms used for reader.
~ Mild smut.
~ You can find part one of these hcs here, and part three here.
~ You can find more of my works here.
~ Thank you to @the-best-of-the-myrmidona for requesting more When They're In Love Headcanons for Jason Todd!
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~ SFW ~
He likes to sit with his head between your legs, in any context.
He likes when you massage his scalp with your legs dangling over his broad shoulders.
He loves it when you wear his clothes.
His heart always stops for a moment when he sees you come out of the shower, drying your hair with a towel, dressed in one of his shirts that just barely reaches down to your thighs, and rises as you reach up to take care of your wet hair.
Loves seeing your thighs.
He gives real "victorian man seeing an ankle" energy.
He loves feeling you against him.
He needs to feel your skin or your body pressing against his or he will have a bad day.
I feel like he always smells good, even if he doesn't smell good, yk?
Like even when he comes home smelling like blood, smoke, and gasoline, his natural musk probably still stands out.
Always catches him off guard when you wanna hug him before he showers.
He can't help but laugh when you bury your face into his chest to inhale more of his scent.
He likes it when you play with his hair, but also likes to play in yours.
Straight, wavy, curly, coiled, long, short, shaved.
He don't care.
Lay on his chest and let him play with your hair, now!
I think he can cook, but that he doesn't know a lot of recipes. He reads a lot of cookbooks though, so he always wants to try something new with you.
I think he always wants to impress you, but he wants to be lowkey abt it.
First time you come over his place, he scrubs every single square inch till it sparkles, but he'll throw a shirt over the couch, or leave out a plate, or something, so he can be all "Sorry about the mess, haha".
Like a loser smh.
I think he'd ask Alfred for a recipe that will be impressive, but not too hard or complicated.
I didn't include it in the last set of hcs, but im putting it here.
Jason would absolutely want to rescue a pet with you, I'm thinking either a massive black dog, or an old cat that has no teeth and has outlived three owners.
Something that needs love and hasn't been given it.
But, I also think he'd put it off bc he wants to be able to give it his full attention.
If he found the right ball of fur and teeth though, I think he might be compelled to take it home with him.
He loves to take naps. Especially with you.
I think it's his way of being vulnerable.
He'd let you touch his scars.
I don't think they'd be sensitive physically, but maybe they'd be sore reminders of his lack of a normal life.
That's why it's so special that he lets you of all people touch them.
~ NSFW ~
Loves loves loves kisses.
Let Me explain.
When he's got you on your back, your eyes glazed over and completely unfocused, his favorite thing to do is lean down, squeeze your cheeks until your lips pucker, and give you lots of sloppy kisses.
He doesn't mind all the drool, in fact, it kinda adds to it.
He'll wipe away the tears sliding down your cheeks with his thumb, before popping it into your mouth, letting you suck it off, before slipping his tongue between your lips so he can taste your sweat tears too.
He's so condensing too. :(
Mean, mean man.
Calls you names, likes to smack, spits.
I think he likes to display his strength, probably holds you up as he thrusts into you, no matter your weight.
I keep writing abt him and he's starting to grow on me smh.😒
Okay that's all for now! <3
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irisintheafterglow · 8 months
Text
invisible string (gojo x you)
summary: the story of the first time megumi used ten shadows.
wc: 3k
cw/tags: fluff to angst/comfort and back to fluff, canon-typical violence, mild language, mentions of kidnapping, weapons (gun, knives), established relationship with pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart)
note: coparenting megumi? coparenting megumi. something about little megs at a dog shelter is just so cute to me but then yk we gotta have the soulmate-tie-object angst/comfort because it's impossible for me to write solely fluffy jjk content hope you enjoy!
likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated <3
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“Alright, Megs. Let ‘em rip.” You nod reassuringly despite the hesitancy riddled on his face. 
“Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?” His voice is small, different from his usual boredom. For the first time in the two years since you’ve met him, Megumi was scared. He was scared of causing you harm, and for good reason. Even though he was barely taller than your hip, Satoru believed it to be a good idea to tell him that, in the future, he could grow to become the next god of the Jujutsu world. It made the boy slightly nervous, then, to unleash something that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could control. “I’d rather test with Satoru in case something goes wrong.” 
“You want to test with him or test on him, bud?” You smirk at his pursed lips and frustratedly furrowed eyebrows. It was no secret that he’d rather see your boyfriend get hurt than you, even though nothing could touch Satoru since he mastered unconscious activation of Infinity. “If you really want to, we can wait for him to get back from his mission, but that won’t be for another few days; I’d really like you to try out the technique with at least one of us with you, but it’s ultimately up to you.” You never wanted to push him into something that he didn’t want since he was already caught in a delicate balancing act. It was hard enough having the Zenins’ prized technique and even harder to prioritize relatively mundane spelling tests. If he were with his power-hungry relatives, you knew education and training would go hand in hand, but he’d also be taught that strength equals worth. That’s not shit you nor Satoru wanted such an inherently good kid to be learning. 
He bites the inside of his cheek in contemplation and you can see the gears turning in his mind. “I don’t know how to…say it.”
“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to; you just do the thing with your hands.” You squint against the sun hanging high in the sky, bathing in the warmth that radiated from the school’s courtyard. An idea crossed your mind of bringing Megumi inside where there’s less light, but he stops you before you can say anything. 
“No, it’s not that. I know how to do it, but I…don’t.” His eyes avoid yours in shame and you kneel down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “I don’t know how to connect with them and I don’t know how to fix it.” You smile softly and gently ruffle the spikes of his hair. 
“It’s okay, really. Let’s get lunch and then we’re gonna make a pit stop before we come back; does that sound alright?” He nods and the tension in his shoulders dissipates. “Go get your bracelet.” 
He groans in protest. “Do I have to? It’s all the way over–”
“Megumi.”
“Fine.” His little steps run up the stairs in the direction of his backpack and you glance down at the shining black ring on your right hand lightly glowing with Cursed Energy. It was a gift from Satoru that you received a few months prior and a third of a shared present between you and Megumi. 
“As much as I love you, it’s way too early to get married.” 
“What? No. I wouldn’t propose using something as boring as that.” He shakes his head adamantly as Megumi inspects his gift with all the care of a scientist analyzing radioactive material. For all you knew, maybe it was radioactive. With a sly grin, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. “Look closer. I didn’t get it just ‘cause it’s shiny.” Your eyes narrow and you gasp when you see the faint aura of blue Cursed Energy imbued in the ring. “See it?”
“Why does it do that? It’s not a weapon, is it?” 
“Wait and see,” is all he whispers before he takes the beaded bracelet from Megumi and slides it carefully onto his wrist, cinching it securely. “Alright, Megs. Tell me what you see.” 
“It’s a bracelet,” the boy deadpans as his eyes flick up to Satoru’s boredly. 
“Well, no duh, it’s a bracelet. Tell me all your practicing hasn’t been for nothing.” Satoru gives Megumi one of his rare serious expressions and you see the lightbulb flicker to life in Megumi’s brain. His eyes narrow in concentration on the bracelet and his mouth opens in realization. Satoru’s eyes shine in determination as he asks the boy what he sees.
“What color–”
“Blue. Light blue, like the sky.” 
“Mhmm, good!” Your boyfriend hums triumphantly and pulls out a chain he must have been hiding under his shirt. Slung on the chain is a single black pendant glowing the same color as your ring and Megumi’s bracelet and you smirk in understanding. 
“You’re putting GPS on us? Didn’t know you were the stalker-type, babe.” You admire the ring and stick your tongue out teasingly when Satoru’s expression becomes defensive. 
“For the record, I am most definitely not that type.” A flash of amused skepticism blinks across Megumi’s face and you both catch it. “I’m not! I’m simply giving the people I care about a way of contacting me if something were to go wrong and they need me.” He crosses his lanky arms across his chest, huffing an indignant exhale. 
He’s so cute when he acts angry. “Oh, when we need you, hmm? What about when you need me to get you toilet paper at three in the morning because you didn’t check before going to take a–” 
“I’m still here!” Megumi’s slightly panicked voice pipes up and you can’t hold back your laughter any longer, doubling over and covering your teary eyes with your hand. Your boys start laughing with you, Satoru chuckling defeatedly and Megumi smiling a little nervously. 
“So, what? We hold these and talk to you like walkie talkies?” 
“No, that’s what phones are for. If one of these breaks, everyone else’s will too and I can use the Cursed Energy it releases to track where you are.” 
“How will you know which one of us broke it?” 
“There’ll be a significantly larger release of energy, or so I’m told.” 
“Does it repair itself afterward? Or will I have to get a new one every time you forget a towel in the shower?”
“No, and I forgot to mention that these are for emergencies only. Dangerous emergencies only.” Your face falls and the big picture hits you like a semi-truck. He wanted you two to be connected to him at all times with essentially a direct SOS line to the most powerful human on the planet. He wanted to be able to save you, even if you couldn’t reach him through technology. The fact that he needed to think about this felt like several hundred needles in your soul. “But!” His serious aura is gone in a snap. “I’m already with you all the time so these will probably just become redundant.” 
“Thank you, Satoru. This is really thoughtful of you.” You reach for his hand and give it a squeeze, the melancholy smile he shoots you making your heart ache. “Megs?” 
“Thanks. I’ll get strong soon, though, and then I won’t need it.” Your boyfriend breathes a subtle sigh and smiles sadly. 
“That’s exactly the point, buddy.” 
From that moment onward, the ring stayed on your finger at all times, even when you showered or went to bed. It was there as you drove to lunch with Megumi, there when you called a friend for a last-minute favor, and there when his voice quietly asked from the backseat where the pit stop was going to be. It was there when his little hand wrapped around your pinky while you walked up the steps of the shelter, and there when you gave the front desk your name. The rich darkness of the band glittered as you were led outside into the yard and met with the cacophony of barking dogs, and stayed there while an attendant brought you two enormous Husky-Shepherds. 
“What are we gonna do with them?” He hesitantly stands behind your legs, peering at the animals sprinting about the play area. 
“We’re gonna help you make a connection, Megs.”
When the two dogs first enter the field, they bolt to the other side and back multiple times. After they seemingly run out their excess energy, they make their way to you and Megumi, who reaches out a cautious fist for them to sniff. He laughs softly when they affectionately lick his hand and nudge their heads against his body. Despite being huge compared to the little boy playing with them, the dogs were incredibly gentle and obediently brought back the ball whenever he threw it for them to fetch. At one point, he turns back to look at you with a grin brighter than the sun as the dogs race across the grass for the ball. You watch him observe the dogs in awe when they play-fight, tumbling over each other and lightheartedly nipping at each other. In the short time that you’re there, Megumi creates a game with them where he creeps around the perimeter of the fence; when they inevitably follow behind him, he jumps into a funny stance and the dogs leap away playfully, tails wagging faster than helicopter blades. You take a video and send it to Satoru, hoping it makes him just as happy as it was making you. 
When the time comes for the attendant to take the dogs back to their kennels, Megumi has both his arms wrapped around the dogs’ necks and his head buried into their thick fur. You crouch next to him, rubbing his back while he kisses each dog on the forehead and commits their faces to memory. 
“So are they going to be adopted?” He asks on the walk back to the car. 
“They are. They’re gonna go home with one of the shelter’s volunteers who just so happens to be my friend from middle school. When I told her you were working on Ten Shadows, she invited us to meet them to better understand what it’s like having dogs.”
“I liked it.” His dark eyes twinkle more than you’ve ever seen before. “I like dogs.”
“I’m glad; I really am. Do you wanna get ice cream and try out your technique again at school?” He gives you a fierce nod and you smile, opening the door as he climbs into the back of your car and immediately grabs hold of his stuffed wolf. 
To your surprise, he continues to talk about the dogs even after you leave the shelter. 
“Would you ever get dogs like them?” 
You can’t help chuckling at the earnest hope in his innocent eyes and you wipe ice cream from his chin with your thumb. “Why, you want me to get dogs so you can play with them all the time?”
“Yep.” He takes another confident spoonful of ice cream. The sun finishes its descent over the horizon as the sky rapidly darkens. You can see the moon in the reflection of Megumi’s eyes. “Do you think Satoru would get dogs like them?”
“Satoru can barely take care of himself, Megs, much less two other living creatures.” Cool night air breezes past your face while you finish the last of your ice cream. 
“He takes care of you and me.” 
“That is true. Though, sometimes it feels like we’re taking care of him, huh?” He snickers, meeting your gaze contentedly before his eyes flick over your shoulder, to something behind you. His eyebrows furrow in suspicion. 
“Do you know him?”
“Who?”
“That guy. He’s been watching us for at least ten minutes.” You don’t look back at what Megumi sees yet, not wanting to raise unnecessary alarm. Instinct tells you something is wrong, but not your sorcerer instincts. You sense no immediate threat from Cursed Energy, but can detect the malicious aura from miles away. 
“Cursed Energy?”
“Not that I see.” 
“That’s weird. Is it okay if you finish your ice cream in the car?” He agrees wordlessly, eyeing the figure behind you that now walked closer as you turned to face it. 
The man looks at you with a revolting sneer and nods to another person you’d seen lingering by where you and Megumi were eating. There were more men now, all with an equally predatory expression that made your skin crawl. Before you can grab Megumi’s forearm and start running, a hand darts out with a knife. You dodge it easily, but the momentary distraction takes your focus away from Megumi. One of the men grabs him and you scream only to be cut off by a rough hand over your mouth. You wiggle out of your assailant’s grasp and kick back hard and he goes tumbling down the sidewalk. Autopilot takes over while you take down each attacker until the sound of a readied gun makes you freeze, cold metal pressed against your back from someone you didn’t sense. 
You catch sight of Megumi struggling in one of the attackers’ grips and shake your head, pleading with him to stop so he doesn't get hurt. He does, eyes wide with anger as you try to slow your racing pulse. The men were using Cursed Tools, you realized, but had no Cursed Energy which is why you couldn’t sense them coming. With sudden death at such close proximity, you couldn’t do anything but wait for an opening to attack. 
“This the one?” The man holding Megumi shoves him forward and it takes all your willpower not to grab him and kill everyone within a three mile radius. 
“Yeah. That’s the kid they want.”
“What do we do with his little babysitter?”
“Kill ‘em. Get rid of the body.” 
You have half a second to concentrate as much Cursed Energy as you can to your back before a bullet collides with it and you fall forward trying to push back against the energy-infused metal struggling to pierce your skin. With a pained cry, you successfully reject the bullet but it knocks the wind out of you, your forehead hitting the sidewalk while you futilely try to pull yourself up. Head spinning and barely able to summon any amount of Cursed Energy, your hand against the concrete gives you an idea. 
“Megumi, my ring!” Your voice sounds hoarse but he understands, throwing his hands together in the position you’d been helping him perfect for a week. You can’t tell who the screaming is coming from; but, in an instant, a gigantic white dog is tackling your assailants while an equally large black dog goes for the throat of Megumi’s captor. In that opening, the boy rushes forward, sliding the ring off your finger and smashing it to pieces. The beads of his broken bracelet clatter to the floor at the same time his technique wears off, the huge dogs returning to black voids. You grab Megumi and stumble to your feet, forcing as much Cursed Energy as you can physically create into your hands while your back hits a wall. 
Not that you need it. 
A telltale wave of vibrations hits your ears and your shoulder sag in relief when he finally takes form between you and the surrounding ring of men. 
“Hiring mercenaries and kidnapping? That’s low, even for them,” is all he says before he’s moving faster than you can blink, and in seconds he’s cradling your face gently while the men groan in agony behind him. Your arms are locked around Megumi, holding him close to your body, but you don’t realize that you’ve slid to the floor with your back against the wall. Satoru briefly checks Megumi’s face but returns to you when he deems him safe. “Hey, babe. You can let go of Megs now; I think you’re strangling him.” 
“Oh, shit. Sorry, baby.” You let your arms drop but Megumi’s arms stay squeezing around your torso, like you’d disappear if he stopped. “I hope I didn’t steal you away from something important.” 
“Nah, I was finished anyway. I was souvenir shopping, in fact. I found a very delightful pair of socks with pandas on them that I wanted to get Yaga.” You chuckle and his hands brush stray hairs from your forehead. “Thanks for keeping my kid safe, sweetheart.” 
“Our kid,” Megumi murmurs against your chest and Satoru turns a shade pinker. “You didn’t almost die trying to make sure I wasn’t kidnapped.” 
“You almost died?” Electric blue eyes dart to you in alarm and you tiredly shush his worries, reassuring him that you did not, in fact, almost die. 
“It was just a gun with Cursed Bullets. Not sure why they brought that if they were only trying to take Megs.”
“Probably thought he’d be with me.” Your boyfriend draws his mouth into a tight line and you lightly punch his shoulder. “Ouch, what was that for?”
“Stop thinking like that. I didn’t get hurt because you weren’t here. If it meant making sure he was safe,” you glance down at the boy curled into your body, “I’d get hurt like this a thousand times more.” 
“Alright, let’s get you both home before that becomes a possibility.” His arms effortlessly snake under your back and legs, lifting both you and Megumi off the ground and pulling you close to his chest. The familiar, roller coaster-drop feeling of warping envelopes your body and you close your eyes. 
When you wake, two pairs of arms wrap around your body as Satoru’s stretches over both you and Megumi, whose arms are firmly wrapped around your torso. A bright blue eye lazily winks open. Of course, he’s awake. You hush him before he says anything, glancing down at the sleeping boy between you both. He nods but his voice is still a loud whisper. 
“I’m so damn mad I missed his first Ten Shadows.” 
“It’s okay, babe,” you say as your thumb brushes over Satoru’s cheek and you think about Megumi playing in the yard with the two huge dogs. 
“I doubt it’ll be the last time he uses it.”
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[1] New Message - Volunteer Announcements
Today at 12:07 P.M
We are proud to introduce our Shelter Volunteer of the Month: FUSHIGURO MEGUMI (7 yrs old)
read more...
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
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hellishjoel · 7 months
Text
cherry 
7.6k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader
Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4
summary: Joel invites you over for a movie night with your parents and Sarah out of town. How are you supposed to focus on the film with his hand on your thigh? 
warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20s while Joel is in his 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, softdom! Joel AND dom!Joel (restraint by command), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, reader titty appreciation, super descript about Joel’s bulging biceps (we all know the picture that came out with him holding onto his luggage and I have not REST)
A/N: I wrote all of this today.. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope these two are growing on ya'll as much as they're growing on me <33
Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him.  You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder.  “You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”
A few times throughout the summer, the lakehouse was yours and yours alone.  While on vacation, your parents always make it a point to go out to dinner and drinks with their old friends that lived in a neighboring town, leaving you in blissful solitude. 
You used to go with them when you were younger, too young to be left home alone. You’d hang out with their son, Nathan, on the tire swing or go swimming in their pool. 
Once you and Nathan both turned thirteen, you found that Nathan was involved in a lot of sports leagues that summer, and therefore he wasn’t going to be around much. Your parents didn’t want to punish you and force you to hang out with four grown adults all day, so they let you stay behind at the lakehouse. 
It was your first sense of freedom, taking care of yourself, having your own routine. You remember breaking into your piggy bank and riding your bike into town with Sarah that day to play at the arcade. You came back home with your lackluster arcade prizes and made mediocre hot dogs. It was a little lonely, the house often bustling with noise from your parents, but it was also serene to be alone. 
Needless to say, you were at peace to wave your parents off this morning as they backed out of the driveway and left you and the lakehouse for the day. 
Your eyes flitted over to the Miller’s. Both Joel’s pickup truck and Sarah’s used and abused 2000’s red Saturn were parked in the shade. Part of you couldn’t believe Sarah could even drive. That five-year-ish age difference felt even more profound as young adults. 
You tried to find ways to busy yourself tonight until your date with Joel. Date? Not a date. Hang out. Movie night. Meet up. Rendezvous. Literally any other word besides date. 
You needed to distract yourself because tonight was a ways away. 
You busied yourself with cleaning your room and bathroom, followed by reading on the dock. When it got too warm, you took a refreshing dip in the lake, followed by some leisurely sunbathing. After a shower, you found solace in jotting down your thoughts in your journal, channeling any residual nerves about the upcoming night.
You found that documenting your summer experiences provided you with a sense of clarity. You aimed to revisit these entries later in life, reminiscing about the intensity of your emotions. These pages held memories of your first boyfriend, the elation of passing your driving test, the ache of lost friendships, and the journey to college.
After the bonfire, before you couldn’t even think about sleeping, you were ferociously writing in your journal. The way your heart raced, the way you were so proud of yourself for taking a leap of faith with Joel. Because it was so, so worth it. 
In the decades to come, the memories you once experienced that felt so fresh would naturally fade. That’s the point of your journals, to document how deeply you felt about your life at the time. Pouring your emotions onto the page felt like tending to a wounded heart. In hindsight, those entries about sadness and turmoil elicited a little giggle. Your mom always told you that it was better to feel anything than not to feel at all. 
You wondered how much Joel felt, like, really felt. On the surface, he was as cold and unmoveable as stone. What was he like with his passions and the people he cared about? You knew he loved Sarah to an unimaginable degree. He would do anything for her. But besides his own blood, what were the things he cared about? 
After putting pen to paper, you shoved your journal under your pillow and started to get ready. You over-dicked-around, and now the clock was ticking.  
You wanted to look somewhat nice. After your recent interactions with Joel, one where you quite literally looked like you just rolled out of bed, you were keen on looking at least somewhat presentable. 
But it was a movie night, after all, and you wanted to be comfortable. You opted to wear something simple, not too date-ey, not too casual. But you did wear Joel’s hoodie. It wasn’t for any overt purpose but because Joel’s house consistently seemed to mimic an icebox. Joel struck you as someone who could thrive in Alaska, content in solitude amid the cold. 
The hoodie still smelled like him, mixed with a little residual bonfire smoke, but his scent was still deeply lodged into the fabric. A navy hoodie with fraying material around the neckline and cuffs. Well-worn and well-loved. He must have loved it enough not to take it to work because it was free of any stains and rips from what you could tell. 
You twirled your finger around the hoodie’s strings, looking yourself over slowly in the mirror. Your eagerness practically floated you over to Joel’s house, Sarah’s car now gone. She must have left for her camping trip. 
After taking cautious steps up Joel’s rickety porch, you sent a rhythmic knock against the Miller’s front door. You heard a few heavy steps on the other side, hearing a lock flip before Joel appeared in front of you.
“It’s about time, I was starting to sweat.” You said as you pulled open the screen door that divided you two before walking past him, catching his subtle eye roll as you did so. 
The house looked like the same as it did ten years ago. Lots of dark wood, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and a lamp in the corner by the window. Joel had the perfect view of the lake. You naturally gravitated further into the room to look at the water glisten as the last hits of sunshine glided over the horizon. 
“You want somethin’ to drink?” 
Your head snapped to Joel, your arms already crossed at the cooler temperature piercing through the material of your clothes. 
“Yeah, what do you have?” Your small steps trekked into the kitchen, finally taking a full look at Joel. Your face faltered at the sight of him. 
Joel had traded in his usual tattered green flannel for a nicer, cleaner denim button-up. He had on his staple worn-in jeans, and for whatever reason, he still had on his work boots. But his hair was sort of run-through, freshly showered and combed back. He looked handsome, clean, like he was trying. 
You slyly smiled at him. He seemed to quickly catch your drift, already avoiding your eye contact with a huff. “I got... Whiskey,”
“Ew, no.” 
“Root beer,”
“Nope.”
Joel let out an excruciatingly long sigh as he ducked his head further into the depths of his fridge, mumbling something about you being a piece of work.
“It’s water, or,” with a groan, he stood up from the fridge, “this bottle of wine. Probably old.” 
Old? The bottle looked nothing but. No dust, fresh label, barely chilled. You didn’t want to call out the poor man for trying to make tonight classy, but you knew Joel had purchased this bottle of wine for tonight. For you. 
If it were any other date or any other guy, you would have pushed his nose into it a bit. Teased them for caring and being so sweet. But this wasn’t any other guy, this was Joel. And if you ever tried to admit that you saw right through him, he would clam up for the rest of the evening out of his adorable bashfulness. So you let it be. For now. 
“Wine’s good.” You say casually with a little nod, trying to relax your cocky smile. Even when he turned around to fetch some old wine glasses inside the very top of a kitchen cabinet, you could tell he was satisfied with himself. Hiding a smile with his back turned. 
You pulled the bottle closer to read the label. You rolled it around in your hand, your thumb tracing the stamped lettering. Cherry wine. 
“Haven’t had a chance to eat all day, got us some pizzas,” Joel said as his head nodded to the side, following the direction to two pizzas still warm and in their cardboard box homes on the counter. 
“Can’t have a movie night without pizza.” Your voice cooed as you set down the wine to take a peak inside, seeing all of its cheesy glory. 
Joel topped off a singular wine glass, your head twisting curiously at just the one. He clinked your glass with his beer bottle, and you rolled your eyes. 
“Thanks.” You murmured, turning on your heel to grab your glass and one of the pizza boxes before walking it to his living room. 
You sat right in the middle of the couch, not giving Joel any excuse to sit too far away. 
“Scootch,” Joel said as he motioned with his beer bottle to make room on the couch. You made a little noise of disapproval toward him. 
“Mm-mm.” You shook your head.
“What?”
Your sneaker tapped the heel of his boot. 
“Take those off. You can’t relax during a movie still wearing work boots.” 
He looked a little perplexed before looking down at his boots. Probably forgot they were even on. They were practically his spare feet at this point. 
“Fine. You too.” He said as his steel toe gently nudged your sneakers in return. You softly nodded, both of you undoing your laces. Sitting on the couch arm, Joel worked to loosen one boot and then the other, hearing the methodical snap of the laces. You slip yours off with ease, picking them up by the upper heel collar and tossing them by the door. Joel just kicked his aside and sat down next to you with a thump into the cushion. 
“We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.” You commandeered the remote out of his hand, his eyebrow cocking to you in disbelief. 
“The hell is that?”
Disbelief tangled your facial expression. “You’ve never seen Pride & Prejudice?”
Joel’s cocked his head to the side, face sitting like stone. Really? 
“Do I look like the type’a guy that watches Pride & Prejudices?” 
You rolled your eyes and huffed. 
“It’s based on the novel by Jane Austen. About... literally so much. The independence of women. Societal norms relating to gender and marriage. Any of this ring a bell?” 
“I know Sarah likes it. That’s about it.” Your smile quips up as you click play. “Perfect.” 
“Do we have to?” His annoyance held no restraint. 
“This movie night is to get back into my good graces, is it not?” You asked as your body leaned away, getting a good look at him. 
Through tight lips, he held back a smile before nodding a little and turning to the opening credits. “Yes, ma’am.” 
It didn’t take long for Joel’s arm to settle around your shoulders, bringing your body into his side. His thumb was stroking the hoodie you wore, his hoodie. 
In his close proximity once again, your senses pick up on his now all too familiar scent; Woody, minty, a little bit of citrus from his body wash. He smelled good, you wonder if he wore cologne tonight or if this was his natural musk. You wouldn’t put it past Joel to naturally smell this good. He was good at a lot of things without even trying. 
A few slices of pizza and two glasses of wine later, you started to feel the weight of Joel’s unbearably heavy arm. You released yourself from him and opted to turn and rest your side against the back of the couch cushions, putting your legs in his lap. 
You hadn’t been watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Couldn’t stop trying to subtly look at how handsome Joel looked in the flicker of the television’s light from your peripheral. You couldn’t help it. He looked so big and hot, like a lumberjack, his stupid build alone making you fold. 
You bite at the inside of your cheek as Joel’s large and warm palm gently make slow strokes up and down your calf. Your body was trying not to twitch. Your heart was thrumming in your throat. You glanced up at him again, his eyes lasered in on the television. 
“Why’d he…” Joel’s voice trailed off, bringing your attention back to the screen. 
Your eyelashes fluttered, your brain trying to get you out of Joel Fantasy World and back into the film. “Hm? What?” 
“Why’d his hand cramp like that? Why’d they film that part?” Without intention, Joel’s curiosity was evident in his question. It immediately made you smile as you watched the television again, your body slumping into his side. 
“It’s not a hand cramp, he’s flexing it. It’s the film’s interpretation of his like… emotional turmoil and struggle. His feelings are evolving for Elizabeth, though he’s trying to appear all aloof and distant towards her. But their physical connection, he can’t really hide it, y’know? He can’t hide how he feels. So he flexes his hand because he’s affected by her presence and her touch. He can’t help it.” 
Joel’s hanging onto every word you say. You’re not so sure if he’s interested in the film as much as he is in hearing you talk about it. The hand that was messing around on your calf was now trailing higher up your thigh. And flexing the higher it climbed.
Your eyes looked from his amber ones to his lips, your heart racing faster in your chest. With one hand still clutching your wine glass, you managed to swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. You folded first. You couldn’t take Joel’s achingly slow touches. 
His enjoyment was obvious in his movements, his calloused hands slowly pushing up your thighs until they landed on the security of your waist. He was gripping the hoodie in his fists, observing your silhouette. 
“This mine, too.” It wasn’t a question, he was pointing it out to you. Joel giving you his own clothes to wear was by no mistake. It was a way of marking what was his, even if it was just in his mind. 
“Mine now.” Your words were whispered, leaning down and kissing at the hook of his jawline. 
“Like you in it. Wear it a hell’uva lot better than I do.” The shift in his voice was clear, huskier, and a little touch drunk. The film’s volume seemed softer now, playing as white noise and falling abandoned. 
His words made your stomach flip, your teeth purposely grazing against his skin. The motion made his hands trail down lower to the globes of your ass, humbly squeezing the flesh with the spans of his palms. A weak moan left your lips against his ear as he planted kisses on the inner side of your neck and on your shoulder. He was so fuckin’ greedy for you. 
“Joel,” you whispered between kisses along his jawline, lips coming up to his chin as one of your hands gently cupped the side of his neck while the other clutched your wine glass for dear life. 
As soon as your lips came close to his, you faltered. And Joel could tell. 
Suddenly both of your eyes were open, soft, and holding contact. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The only thing that actually came from you was a little sigh of disappointment, your eyes shyly flitting away. 
Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him. 
You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder. 
“You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”
This was Joel’s second or so attempt to kiss you. The first time was on the tailgate of his truck, you didn’t even think about letting him kiss you in his woodshed. 
You weren’t trying to remain mysterious or aloof, something he managed to do so naturally. You shifted in his lap uncomfortably, your eyes drifting to the window behind his head and watching the water shift in the black of night. 
“It’s not that deep, Joel. Just don’t want anyone to get attached.” You shrug and shake your head. “I don’t know, who cares?” 
“I care.” Even blasted on movie pizza and beers, he was as quick as a whip. His care wasn’t soft, it was strong. He cared like a fiercely loyal shield. 
You exhaled a deep sigh, your chest reflecting your breath as he slowly brought you back to him.
“I’m scared that I’ll like it.” The movie’s distant volume was comforting white noise to your nerve-wracked conversation with Joel. This was perhaps the most you’ve talked with him in one sitting. And about something so deeply personal, too. 
He took in what you said, slowly beginning to shake his head as his hand cupped more seriously against your jawline. 
“”t’s just a kiss.” His tone was seductive, sincere. Whispering like no one else in the world could hear. “Kiss me.”
You didn’t feel pressured, Joel was looking at you like he genuinely cared about what you had to say. About the movie, about the kissing. He bought you wine, he got pizzas, and he’s suffering through a period drama to sit beside you on his couch. Damn you, Joel Miller. 
You felt your body relax into his again, no longer cold and rigid. Your bodies meshed as you fell into the front of his chest, your hand on his neck moving up to cup his jaw. You tilted up his face and received no resistance. Just kiss him. 
You met his lips, soft and sweet, delicate and gentle. Your hand slipped from his jaw and landed absentmindedly on his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat against your palm. 
You didn’t pull away. It was impossible. 
He tasted like mint and whiskey, with hints of residual smoke from a cigarette earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know he smoked unless you were tasting him like you were right now. 
Joel was encouraging something out of you, deep and primal, as you let the kiss deepen. He took the lead with a heady mix of softness and urgency. 
He set a scorching fire between your legs, purely drunk on his lips alone. It sent a shiver down your spine how intense this stone-like man could be. Your mouths moved with desire and rhythm, feeling an electric spark that sent your senses ablaze. 
Goosebumps had sprinkled across the skin of your arms, your once soft hand on his jaw now clutching him there and tugging lightly at his curly tendrils. You weren’t letting him go. 
Your sounds filled the room, hot and wet kisses punching the air from both of your lungs. 
A breath was shared, your forehead on his as both of your chests rose and fell together.
His eyes caught yours. More?
You gently nod. Please. 
He was back with you in a hot heat, both of you wanting, no, needing more of one another. 
He balanced a tantalizing fusion of passion and longing, a magnetic pull that had you grinding your hips down into his lap. 
The world around you faded into a blur as you felt his tongue glide across your lower lip, asking permission. Your lips easily parted, tongues dancing and melting, your hands shaking a bit in excitement. 
Joel was consuming you. His tongue marking his territory as he explored your mouth before kissing you heatedly once more. You realized that the kiss wasn’t an exploration of feelings at all, Joel wanted to languish in your taste, stake out the claim of your mouth. Taste and territory. 
 A low grunt left the depths of his throat as your hips ground over him with desperation now. You could feel his dick swelling against your ass. 
Your lips quirked up in a smirk against his, you liked that you could feel his facial expressions, and he, yours. 
Without thinking, you went to cup his face in both hands, your wine glass dropping onto Joel’s chest, and what little wine you had left was splashing his denim button-up red. He didn’t even notice. 
“Joel--, wait,” you were breathless as you pulled away, his lips moving to the open expanse of your neck instead, his arms tight around your lower back. He could care less about his shirt, or the wine, or the spare glass rolling around between your stomachs. 
You laughed breathlessly, closing your eyes as you kept your chests apart, careful not to get wine on his favorite sweatshirt next. Your head fell back, your hair fanning out as you grinned at the ceiling. 
“Joel, your shirt is stained.” You tried to point out, both of your hands clamped onto his shoulders weakly to keep him at a distance. But his lust-filled lips had a taste of you that he couldn’t replace. His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck, wincing lightly as you let out a broken little whimper. 
“Don’t care.”
Oh my god. Fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate for more, but you weren’t going to let him stain one of maybe three decent shirts he owned. And with wine, you had to be fast acting. 
“Come on,” you said weakly, not even convinced yourself to break away.  “Joel, your shirt-”
“Don’t. Care.” He growled through gritted teeth, eyes hungry as you felt him lick a hot, slow stripe up your neck to your jaw. Fuck, he felt so good. 
Despite his clear lack of empathy for his shirt, you felt bad because it was your spill, your accident to try and make up to him. 
You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. He didn’t stop until you planted both palms against his pecs and pushed him back with little force, watching as he fell into the cushions with a lazy smirk on his face as he looked over you. Joel was drunk off your kiss. 
You found your footing on the hardwood floors, grabbing his hands and attempting to pull him up and off the couch. He playfully resisted, just kept sitting there as you weakly tried again. 
“Stop bein’ such a dick.” You huffed. His laugh filled the room, nearly startling you. It was always quite the opportunity to hear him laugh so big like that. 
“Couldn’t pull me up no matter how hard ya try.” 
“Shut up. Stand up.” You ordered with little follow-through from Joel.
He yanked his hands from yours and planted his palms onto the tops of his thighs, pushing himself off the couch and following you aimlessly to his master bathroom. 
“Do you have some hydrogen peroxide? Dishwasher detergent?”
He stayed silent but looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes and started looking through different cabinets. 
“Baking soda?” Cocking your head to him, he nods and disappears before returning to you with the little orange Arm & Hammer cardboard box. 
You cleared your throat and looked at him expectantly. 
“Joel, I can’t clean the shirt with you wearing it. Take it off.”
As soon as the words left your mouth, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see his lips upturned in a cocky smirk. Sometimes you just wanted to smack it clean off his face. 
Fine. With a sense of ferocity, you began to take him down button by button. He lets you. He even steps closer to your body, and you try not to get distracted by him. 
“I don’t wanna be the one that messes up your nice shirts.” You murmur. 
“t’s fine.” He cups your cheek again and tries to divert your attention once more. He’s not even actively trying to kiss you, he just wants to get a rise out of you now. You’re trying not to smile at him in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. Your elbow jabs into his bare abdomen after you’ve peeled the wet material from his torso. 
“Quit it.”
“Quit what?” 
Forcing yourself to turn away from him wasn’t enough. Now he’s behind you planting kisses down the side of your neck with his hands on your waist and toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.
You had to admit being on his lap like that got you hot and bothered to the tenth degree. Now you were nursing a stained shirt and the ache in your core. 
“‘lright, fine.” Oh, thank god. You could breathe again. You were this close to caving, and caving to Joel was a losing game. 
He found a towel and wiped at his chest and torso while you blotted away with a paper towel the excess wine in his shirt. After getting out what you could, you sprinkled the baking soda over the little splashes of red and added a few drops of water to make somewhat of a paste. Now you just had to wait for it to dry and toss it in the laundry. 
You hoped you didn’t ruin the denim shirt, you quite liked how he looked in it. The blue denim complimented the soft silver in his curls, and the cuffs rolled up accentuated his biceps.
Speaking of biceps. Your eyes innocently watched him move around the bathroom shirtless. He was somewhat toned, a handsome mix of dad bod and muscle. Like a sexy lumberjack. He was big and broad, wide in the shoulders and smaller in the waist. With all the summer log chopping, his biceps were toned.  
A shaky breath left your mouth, his eyes catching yours in the mirror before you quickly looked away, washing your hands of the baking soda paste you had made. 
“It’s uh… It’s good now. Just let it dry and put it in the washer. Alone. Without anything else in there.” You quickly nodded, over-clarifying again. You braved looking at him again in the mirror. Mistake. A smug little smile that beat up your guts was laced on his lips. 
Your hand was quick to reach for the door handle, but his hand was already on your other wrist and pulling you into his front. 
“Get back here,” Your name drips off his lips, and it’s drenched in lust. 
Fuck it. 
Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, feeling his raised trap muscles under your forearms as your lips reunite with Joel’s. 
Getting that first kiss between you two out of the way was a blessing in disguise because now you knew him. You were acquainted with his lips. You liked his taste, you liked how soft he was, you liked the stubble of his beard, and you liked the way his warm palms were on you as soon as you entered his space. He embraced every inch of you, his kisses were feverish, and they left your mind in a tailspin. No one had ever kissed you like this before. 
You ducked your head down before he could stop you, kissing over his wine-spoiled chest. You kissed lower and lower before licking a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting residual cherry and sweetness from the wine. 
Your lips parted as you looked in the mirror, realizing now that he had pinned both your wrists behind your back and planted them at your tailbone. 
Your doe eyes innocently looked up at him, his face masked in desire and an appetite for you. 
“Get on your knees.” 
A breath hitched in your throat, your eyes trying to focus as you looked over Joel’s face. Your eyes fluttered down to his biceps, strong and defined with veins lining like rivers coursing along the curves as they held your wrists back. You didn’t hesitate to drop down to your knees. 
He had let go of your wrists, so you brought your hands up to undo the button of his jeans, but he tsk-ed you. 
“But I-”
“But nothing. Put your hands behind your back again.” You pouted but obeyed. You wanted to touch him. 
Your lips parted as you watched Joel pop open the button of his jeans, his thumbs lining the hem of his jeans and boxers at his hips before pushing them down to his thick thighs. His cock was already half-hard from when you were grinding on him back on the couch. 
Your breaths grew heavier, you couldn’t manage to stay in his hoodie. You peeled the heavy navy sweatshirt off, leaving you in nothing underneath, which earned sweet praise from Joel as soon as you laced your hands once more behind your back.
“So fuckin’ pretty.. Look at you.” He lightly leaned over and cupped one of your tits, massaging it in the heart of his palm and rolling your taut nipple around with his thumb. A quiet whine was elicited from your throat, face crumbling as your hands fought hard not to release themselves behind your back. 
You wanted to touch him, cup his face, hold his thighs, wrap your hand around his dick that was flush against his stomach. 
A harsher tug to your nipple left you moaning, watching as he leaned down and let a long, long dribble of spit connect from his lips down onto your chest. Your head fell back at the cool sensation, feeling it aid the heat of your breasts. 
He stood up tall again, broad and towering, as you glanced over to the mirror. The dynamic was almost charming. You on your knees for Joel, his blushing cock swelling against his happy trail. He was so handsome, so greedy. 
Without thinking, you released your hands from around your back and moved to steady yourself on his thighs. 
“Not gonna tell you again, pretty girl.” You paused and looked to Joel. “No usin’ your hands tonight. Just that dirty mouth a’yours.” His accent was drenched with lust, dripping like syrup. 
You whined as you assumed your position with your hands away, not knowing what to expect if you tried to use them again. 
You attempted to crawl closer to him, your knees practically between his slightly parted legs. 
You kissed up his inner thigh, grinning lightly at the slight taste of his sweat. Your tongue kitten licked at his balls, hearing him seethe in a breath through gritted teeth. Sensitive, a little wrinkled, lightly groomed just for you. It made you smirk that he cared enough to trim. 
You tested the waters, letting your warm mouth coat him in saliva, going from one ball to the other until they were both practically dripping. His cock was twitching for your attention, but Joel was above begging and groveling. For now. 
With devilish eyes, you looked up to him as you suckled one of his balls. He didn’t stop you, just cursed a little under his breath as his chest moved faster. You picked up the suckling from him when he nursed your sensitive, throbbing clit between his teeth and tongue. Now, it was your turn to repay the favor. 
Your lips released him with a pop, and you watched as Joel let out a breath he was holding in. His hand loosely fisted your hair in a loose ponytail atop your head, a little moan leaving your mouth as your scalp tingled with his tug. 
Your eyes closed as you worked over the other ball, suckling and licking and doing it all just to watch his cock grow angrier and more jealous of the attention. Your own spit was falling down your lips and chin, coating your breasts in a glistening sheen. 
Working without your hands, you used your core to balance yourself against Joel. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the floor. He liked watching you work to suck him off. 
You had to look to Joel for assistance, his shaft so hardened now against his stomach that you couldn’t reach. You sat up as straight as you could, Joel smirking down at you and watching you struggle for a few brief moments. “Come ‘ere, pretty girl.” He used the free hand not tangled in your locks to guide his tip down to your open mouth, your lips wrapping loosely around the head.
You made the mistake of releasing him out of habit, whimpering as your knees scrambled on cold tile to get him back to the warmth of your mouth. He opted to help you again, guiding his tip onto your red, wine-stained tongue. 
This time, you learned not to release him. Your tongue salivated his tip, swollen and sensitive. You could tell by how tight Joel clutched your hair and nearly pulled you off. 
You smirked lazily around him as you took him deeper, your watery eyes on his as you interlocked your fingers by your tailbone. 
You were slow at first, little nods back and forth, up and down his shaft. You blinked through any residual tears, slicking him up with your spit and proceeding farther down his shaft. You clenched your eyes closed and choked lightly as you took him to his base, a low groan of praise leaving Joel as his thumb stroked up your cheekbone. 
“Fuck me, so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’.” His words were broken by his rasp, but the praise sent you into overdrive. 
You bobbed your head at a good pace, Joel guiding you by your hair up and down his shaft, slicked by excess saliva that was dripping onto your tits and your stomach. You had to take a breath, but you learned from earlier. Your head came to rest against his thigh, head foggy as his tip sat plump against your cheek. You looked at the two of you in the mirror, and it was quite a sight. 
Joel’s body was planted by his heels, his toned torso and biceps protruding with hints of sweat. You had black-smudged tears on your waterline, and your face was filled with warmth. Your hair was a mess, Joel gently stroking it back from your sweat-glistened forehead as you breathed through your nose. You liked watching you work in the mirror. Watching him get ruined in the mirror. Watching yourself get ruined in the mirror. 
You started your rhythm again, this time your eyes locked loosely on the mirror in your peripheral. Joel’s cock made you choke each time you took him deep, but you didn’t let it stop you. He was so close, you had the heady taste of his precum on your tongue. He liked it messy. 
“Fuck- can’t,” Joel let out a rugged moan, it felt like it vibrated the tiles under your aching knees. Your wrists were throbbing from keeping your arms back, hands clenched together tight as you followed his rules. “Can’t hold on when you take me so-- so goddamn good.”
You whimper-whined against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you moved with intent up and down his shaft. You opted just to take what you easily could now, focused on keeping the pace and working towards his orgasm. You thought about Joel fucking your mouth, but he wanted you to feel some sense of control since you had your hands back. Maybe you wanted to lose all control. If it was Joel you were losing it with. 
Joel was close, he couldn’t hold back how messy he had gotten. He had a steel-tight grip on your hair, and his breaths were laced with broken moans and grunts of your name. He kept wiping away any tears that slipped past your eyes and onto your cheeks, despite being devastatingly close to an orgasm you knew he was drunk on. 
“Yeah, fuck me,” He murmured under his breath, his cock twitching deep in your throat now. “Take me so well... The fuckin’ best, babygirl.” The best. 
You watched through blurry, head-dizzy vision as Joel’s ab muscles contorted. “Gonna cum, baby, stay with me.” He panted, eyes locking on yours as you nodded on his shaft and continued your sweet rhythm. 
You whimpered as his tip pulsed against your tongue, going down on him as deep as you could and clenching your eyes closed, waiting for Joel’s impending climax. And he kept you there as he painted your throat white. 
His cum came out in hot ropes, moaning lowly against his shaft as you focused on tasting him and breathing through your nose. He was salty, little beads landing in the back of your throat as you swallowed around him. 
Joel’s moans were glorious, breathy, and aching to say your name. His eyes had fallen closed, his stance still tall and broad. You wanted to touch him, kiss him. You decided to lay your head against his thigh, still breathing around his dick as you watched yourself in satisfaction through his mirror. 
“Fuck,” he murmured low, pulling you off of him with a pop. Your jaw lightly throbbed, but god, you felt like you were in the clouds. 
“Hands?” Your raw voice whimpered. He gave a silent nod of approval, and with his permission, you released your interlocked hands and lightly toppled back on your ass, leaning against the door to his linen closet. 
Joel observed you for a few moments, making sure you were okay before he grabbed a spare washcloth and ran some lukewarm water over it. Your eyes peeked open when you heard his zipper go up on his jeans, seeing he had straightened out his bottom half. 
You tried to focus your vision, seeing him squat down beside you and lightly press the cold washcloth to your temple, cheeks, and up your neck. It helped, you were settled, safe, and with Joel.
“Holy fuck.” You finally said once you had come down from your high. Your eyes met Joel’s, seeing both of your mouths were quirked up in lopsided smiles. 
“Too much?” He asked, the washcloth now delicately cleaning up the saliva on your breasts. 
You slowly shook your head. No, never too much. Just new. 
You looked around, feeling an ache in your knees and in your wrists. You rolled your wrists in circles to relieve some pressure on the joints before you pushed your palms up and down your kneecaps gently.
“Hey,” Joel’s words caught your attention, turning to him as he lightly cupped your cheek. “You were fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” A weak mewl left you, a tired smile on your lips. 
“You said the best.” 
“Was perfect. Was the best. Did a perfect job.” His praise punched excitement through your veins, regaining your strength to stand back up with Joel’s honorable assistance. You murmur a thanks before you make a grab for Joel’s hoodie. As if he was going to steal it back from you. 
Joel excused himself to go clean up the kitchen, leaving an attentive kiss on your cheek before he left you alone. 
You took a few minutes to rinse some water around in your mouth and try to brush your fingers through your knotted, matted hair. 
“Need to get yourself a brush, Mr. Miller.” You murmur as you pass him in the kitchen, seeing he pulled on a new t-shirt and that he had put some of the leftover pizza in spare Tupperware containers. 
“Can’t eat it all by myself, and Sarah won’t be home for a few more days.” 
You narrowed your eyes at him. He could so totally finish that pizza if he wanted to. He could do it tonight as soon as you leave. 
Reading your mind, he shoved the container into your hands. “Just-- fuckin’ take it, why you gotta make things so damn difficult.” 
You smirked and patted the container softly. “My specialty. Irritating old grouchy men.” 
He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you, picking up the wine bottle next and figuring out what to do with it. Your eyes softened, watching the gears turn in his head for how he was going to handle this situation. 
“Do you care if I take the rest of it home, actually? I know it’s yours, and it’s been yours for a while, but it was really good.” Lame excuse. Joel leaned into it though, nonetheless. You were at Joel’s side now, looking to him with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He teetered on his feet for a moment before he nodded and handed it over. 
“Yeah, you’re doin’ me a favor so it doesn’t just keep sittin’ in the fridge.” 
You nodded softly and tried to jam the cork back in as well as you could, Joel swiftly taking the bottle from you and popping it back into its home with ease due to his sheer strength. 
You turned to the television and huffed, seeing the credits of Pride & Prejudice roll. Dammit.  
Joel joined you at your side, crossing his arms and giving the television a once over. “So did they, y’know, end up together?” There was Joel’s pure curiosity again. This time, he didn’t hide it so well. 
“Guess you’ll have to watch to find out. Don’t forget to throw that shirt in the washer.” You said with a cocky grin, holding up the wine bottle and pizza leftovers in gratitude before walking to the door. Joel followed you out, and you looked at him curiously. 
“Gotta make sure you get home safe.” 
Your head rolled to the side, watching as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What?”
“Joel, I’m staying right next door. You could see me go inside from your living room window.” 
He just shook his head and looked beyond you to the water. 
“t’s dark.” 
Your chest fluttered with warmth, a smile on your lips growing past one you could deny. Let him have this one. 
“Thanks, Joel. Thanks for the pizza and the wine and… stuff.” Now it was his turn to let you have this one. The stuff. The kiss. The multiple kisses. He didn’t make it a big deal, just rolled with the punches. You appreciated it. 
You wanted to know what was next for the two of you. The feeling of your cores grazing one another set a fire in you that only Joel could put out. 
You pondered whether or not to kiss him goodnight and find a lame excuse to try and thank him again for the wine bottle when you saw two pairs of headlights coming down the road. 
“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, looking to Joel with a pained expression. He looked disappointed. 
You didn’t say goodnight, you didn’t kiss him before you left, you just… left. You moved down Joel’s rickety wooden porch steps with haste, sneaking into the lakehouse through the garage door as your heart thrummed at a face pace. You felt like a child getting caught by your parents. 
You didn’t know what to do with Joel’s pizza container and the wine. You could figure out an excuse for the pizza later, so you shoved it into the fridge, but definitely not the half-drank bottle of red wine. You double-checked that the cork was in there tight, and of course it was because Joel pushed it back in, but you couldn’t help but check because it was going to be stowed under your bed for safekeeping. 
You changed out of Joel’s hoodie and into an oversized band tee, walking out of your bedroom with a book when your parents returned through the door. 
“Hey, kiddo. You’re still up? ‘t’s past eleven.” 
You try not to roll your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip as you tightly nodded. “Yeah, I know. I stay up late a lot at school and stuff, working on papers or out with friends. Staying up past eleven isn’t that weird for me.” 
You didn’t mean for there to be so much venom in your comment, but you weren’t a baby. Nearly every day at the lakehouse so far this summer has elicited a few don’t call me kid, I’m an adult, I make adult decisions, comments from you. 
Your parents looked too tired to care, which somehow stung worse. 
“Okay, sweetie, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Your dad and I are headin’ to bed.” 
Now you felt bad. You pursed your lips and nodded, putting your hands behind your back and resting them on your tailbone absentmindedly. This was the same pose Joel had you in tonight. You already wanted to go back there. 
“Sorry, goodnight.” You whisper, seeing your dad give you a tired smile before patting your shoulder. 
“Hey kiddo-” He paused at the nickname and took a breath. “Sorry.” You playfully smiled and shook your head. Go on.
“Do me a favor, grab the steaks out from the freezer and put them on a plate in the fridge. Wanna have Joel and Sarah over for dinner tomorrow night. Feel like I haven’t seen them all summer.” 
Your face went ghastly blank, feeling yourself fall hollow like a collapsing building. If it weren’t for how tired your dad was, he would have seen right through you like a ghost. “You- Oh, you want to have them come by for dinner? I don’t think tomorrow’s gonna work. Sarah’s camping and-”
“Oh, well, Joel can still swing by for dinner. Need to eat up those steaks. Every time I open the freezer, they stare at me. They’re beggin’ me to eat them, it ain’t fair.” 
You forced out a laugh, but of course, your father couldn’t tell. Just thought he made one hell of a zinger. 
“So-So Joel over for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, kiddo. And don’t forget to take out the steaks. Love you.” He turned the corner down the hall, and then he was gone. 
You sighed and lightly chewed at the skin around your thumbnail. Great. One big happy family dinner. And Joel. 
---
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(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. ugh a problem for another day, okay ily ttyl I'm gonna go watch twilight)
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punksocks · 7 months
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Astro Observations No. 21
*just based off of my personal experiences, only take what resonates
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-Capricorn Moon/Moon conjunct/opposition/square Saturn could point to parents trying to control the native for financial gain
-Asc square mars can make the native appear intimidating and aggressive
-I feel like Virgo placements tend to have a lot of secret admirers… and I don’t have a why lol just a gut feeling (maybe it’s because of how they always seem on top of things, but this can make them kinda unapproachable for some people ? Idk)
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-Are Sagittarius placements (especially in the big 6) usually late to appointments and dates or is it just me…
-Mercury square/opposition Jupiter could point to a lot of people thinking you never say enough/always say too much in convertation
-Venus square/opposition to Saturn may point to a lot of unrequited love interests, especially before the native is 25
-Is anything more double Capricorn (sun & moon) than both of your parents being cold, distant, and disappointing lol :0 (yeah I’m fine lol)
-Sagittarius placements make a joke out of everything lol, that’s why gen z jokes about death and depression so much lol Pluto in sag bby
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-Aquarius can show where you tend to want really unique things (7th could want a really stand out partner to settle down with, 4th could aspire to have unique families dynamics, 11th could point to wanting unique friends, etc)
-My partner has Aquarius in 6th and he always wants a unique looking pet lol (Every time he sees a hairless cat or a dog with 3 legs he’s like let’s adopt them lol) -also totally didn’t expect it for a Virgo rising lol
-Your planets in 12th can show where things become murky and unclear (Mercury in 12th you make have trouble hearing and understanding the words people are saying, Mars in 12th you may have trouble understanding your anger/perceiving your intimate compatibility with people, Moon in 12th you may have difficulty with naming your emotions and understanding them and trouble knowing what you’re sensitive to, Venus in 12th could mean that you tend to unknowingly catch crushes and people have unrequited crushes on you, Sun in 12th really impacts your sense of self and how you perceive yourself.)
-Cancer placements in guys manifest as either their mother’s opinion meaning everything or like less than nothing I noticed (especially in dating, a cancer Venus/mars will either fall for someone because they’re just like their mother or bc they’re the complete opposite of their mother. It’s never accidental lol)
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-Libra MC may be an advocate for social justice and could use any attention on them to further push these causes (turns out Malcolm X was a Libra MC, which is interesting bc he was so big on like standing up for the community and returning violence with justice).
-Another civil rights leader placement I noticed? Moon conjunct Venus (Martin Luther King Jr & Fred Hampton both had this, in water signs I think) which imo points to being emotionally invested in harmony and harmonious relationships.
- They also both had Taurus north node which made them empathetic and determined to be committed to advocating for peace but the Scorpio south node obviously made people (especially people in power) very vengeful towards them
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mywifealhaitham · 29 days
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pre release boothill relationship headcanons!!!
a/n: I'm fiending off crumbs... I've wanted to read some x reader of him but theres none so I gotta write it myself. I hope the other 4 boothill fans enjoy
warnings: gn!reader, like 2 gendered pet names (pretty girl/boy), most of this is written with bias because we don't have alot to go off, obviously written prerelease, when we actually get content of him I'll definitely be rewriting
LEAKS AHEAD!!!
bc: Valentine_DD_ on twt
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- Boothill is described as a righteous person if his bottom line doesn't get crossed, so he definitely treats you good. probably more on the protective side when it comes to you, he's probably not afraid to use his gun if someone is threatening you.
- and believe me he's intimidating. from his overall tough and "unruly" cowboy look to his mechanical body it leaves enemies just a little challenged. he lowers his voice too and probably has a more fierce look in his eyes too. after any threats have been delt with he probably turns to you and turns into the sweetest thing ever, a wide grin across his face and his hands on your cheeks peppering you with small kisses.
- Its said he's a bit sophisticated due to his experiences so I'd like to imagine sometimes he charms you with facts and details about other planets or just genuinely sharing some tips and tricks he's picked up from other cultures. he's also a person who can get along with others pretty well but he can easily give strangers an impression he's selfish and is a bad person.
- again this kinda feeds into he's basically you'd guard dog... but I mean who wouldn't want to be saved by a handsome and sweet cowboy. despite his unpredictable personality and looks he's a huge gentleman for sure. always opens doors and pulls out chairs for you, makes sure your behind him and okay if any danger approaches and practically listens to your every command (lowkey giving off my girl and I don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do)
- one part I'm so excited to see is what they mean by he's illiterate and using metaphors. it's probably just him using slang but it's still kinda cute. I feel like his cheesy and strange metaphors turn into pick up lines when talking to you. perhaps he'll pull a "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or something cheesier. Definitely a huge nickname guy, almost never uses your real name. I'm guessing he'd use stuff like doll, sugar, baby, pretty girl/boy and more teasing names. heavy on doll and sugar and just imagine him saying it in a deep southern accent... 😍 kicking my feet. also I imagine he loves making you giggle by not cursing (because he literally cant) and normally he'd get pissed if someone laughed at him like that if it's you he doesn't mind at all.
- that's pretty much it for like analyzing the leaks I saw but now the stuff up ahead is just bias yapping because I always project
- HE DEFINITELY IS A HAND KISSER. greets you by getting on one knee, holding his hat to his chest and kissing your hand. makes eye contact with you too and does that toothy smirk of his IM SWOONINGGG
- maybe he's a dancer! pulls you into his arms and places his hat on your head when a good song plays in taverns. even if your clueless on any type of dances then he'll pull you along to the beat whispering Instructions in your ear.
- gets so lovesick when drunk it drives everyone mad. any folks he's sitting with at a bar gets a whole speech on his wonderful beautiful darling who he owes his live and would happily die by their hand. and may God save you when you come pick him up because he'll be all over you. Immediately he wraps a arm around your waist as he slurrs his hello as he proceeds to tell you he loves you like 40 times. besides the mass amounts of kisses you'll receive once you both reach a private spot he let's some feelings that he might be too shy to share normally, holding your face as he calls you his pretty girl/boy and how he's so lucky to have you.
- honestly not the best for cuddling however unfortunately he needs to cuddle you to sleep so goodluck! his metal body isn't completely uncomfortable it's just cold alot. he tries to get around this by literally preheating himself with blankets before you go to bed.
very bad boothill brainrot atm... only a few more weeks until we get official content 😭 everyone hold hands we got this
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here's the actual leaks if anyone is curious ^_^
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