#deep and everlasting sigh

[screampied]

‘ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

wc. 7.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), praise, cunnilingús, squìrting, implied multiple órgasms, unprotected, degradation, size difference, impact play, poor dad is kinda clueless, almost caught, overstimulation.

dbf! masterlist

“who’s he?”

a simple question — yet the moment the words ran out your mouth, it felt as if all eyes were on you. in reality, it was though. the tall man who was quite a few staggering inches taller than your own father had such a gaze. he had hands buried into the depths of his pockets, shifting his weight as he stood still before burning a stare right into you. an intense stare, you could almost make out somewhat of an intriguing smirk. that sly smile with an everlasting scar running down the right side of his mouth.

“hey honey,” your father waves out with a brief gesture. he throws an arm around the buff man before giving him a rough pat on the back. “this is toji. met him ‘bout a year ago at one of those boat races. heh, news flash—he lost.”

“woah. no need to embarrass me, man,” toji murmurs in a raspy tone and by all means was his voice deep. laced in pure baritone, far deeper than your fathers. by a mile, to be specific. his voice has a jagged huskiness to it, insanely attractive. as he spoke, his eyes flickered towards you and he’d occasionally look away with that same chaffing sneer. “but anyway,” toji averts his eyes back towards you. his cologne was loud, you could smell it from miles away from you. he pauses for a few good seconds before uttering. “it’s nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”

you gulped, suddenly feeling small. you couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him — his demeanor, the way he carried himself, anything was. but it was something that had you a bit drawn in so to speak. “i um..”

“she’s not that much of a speaker,” your father chuckles, giving you a soft rub near your back. “poor brain’s probably all fried from those midterms. right honey?”

“you don’t say.” toji raises a brow, glancing away for a moment and a smile tugged right against his his dimples—and for a moment, he was suddenly intrigued by his best friend’s daughter.

that was the initial first reaction between the two of you. you ended up staying at your father’s house for the remaining duration of your visit.

nothing too much sparked between the two of you, of course there’d be subtle moments. real subtle moments—stupid things, like having him help you grab something from one of the top shelves.

of course he’d help, he was taller than you by many many inches. effortlessly towering over you. it’s the way he’d press up against you. it was quite hard to shut those thoughts of yours up. those lewd salacious thoughts that were forever kept into the very back of your brain, silently fantasizing about your father’s best friend.

apparently, he stayed for quite around the same time you did since he and your father would typically hang, do all sorts of men activities you never really cared about—golfing, shooting ranges, watching the most recent football games. that was the most annoying part, how they’d both obnoxiously yell at the screen whenever their favorite team was pathetically losing.

your room was directly upstairs, you heard everything. it was as if the walls were merely thin. in a way, they were. the constant repetitious hollering from the two men were so irksome. eyes merely rolled to the back of your head whilst you were trying to scroll on your phone in peace.

you never did understand why a dumb game of balls would drive men so crazy. nevertheless, you let off a tiny sigh before plopping right down in your bed. immensely, you stared off into space.

you had no idea why, but the minute your eyes linger into the white nearly peeled off drywall near the ceiling, you thought about him. toji.

stupid, maybe…

it’s been a few days and you hardly knew the guy. encounters between him were subtle and brief. he’d nod his head at you, barely acknowledging your existence and going straight back to some meaningless conversation with your father.

there was one day however, one day that had you hot all over. it was when you walked in on toji, he was using the spare shower that no one really uses, it’s reserved mostly for guests—perfect for him in this case.

you remember it like it was yesterday. since you were wide awake during this time for whatever reason, your dad sent you to go replace some towels from downstairs since he was doing laundry so you mindlessly make your way downstairs. the door was visibly cracked. sure, you probably should have knocked but who takes showers around three am?

apparently, this guy.

toji was literally just getting out the shower when you walked in. steam fogged throughout the entire space.

it was hot, stuffy and dampened with mist clinging against the rectangular mirrors. smothered with fog, you practically end up bumping right into something hard.

to be specific, that something was toji’s broad chest. maybe you were a bit delusional but you could have sworn, the moment you made contact with his bulky pecs, it moved upon impact.

“excuse you, sweetheart,” toji would scoff teasingly, his low voice was a bit more rougher since it was late at night. you were definitely speechless, barely able to process a single word from your mouth. thankfully a towel was wrapped around his slim torso—yet you started to wish maybe he didn’t have it protecting his lower half.

your eyes stuck to his chest the entire time, talk about embarrassing. immediately, your pretty dilated pupils ran down his chest, down his v-line, his perfectly structured build . . and then, his happy trail. he was well trimmed of the sort, practically. toji’s version of well trimmed was a bit hairy. regardless, it was still an attractive feature.

the more your eyes rove, the more you glance at his nearly perfectly sculptured structure. his chest was painted with a plethora of battle scars, now you were the one intrigued. you wanted to know more.

“you’re a little rude, huh,” and you abruptly snap from your thoughts. it was so brusque…

returning back to reality, out of that lewd trance you were so desperately trapped in—you blink twice, not even realizing how he was right up close to you. toji stares down at you before sneering. “it’s like three am. shouldn’t you be in bed?”

you shift your feet a bit, maintaining a little distance before trying to reply in the best nonchalant way possible. “uh no,” and then you utter awkwardly. “shouldn’t you be in bed? who randomly wakes up to take showers this late?”

“guys my age,” he jibes. “ya wouldn’t get it.”

you deadpan, fully aware it was a joke but you held everything in you to not have your eyes roll all the way back. “whatever,” and then you nearly forget what you were about to do. he watches you, you open near the lower cabinet and replace the clean towels. it grew profoundly quiet, a pin could drop. the moment you turned around, toji scoffs to himself. “did you need anything? something else?”

“ah. thank you, i’m fine, princess,” toji huffs with a sly grin. he reaches near the small wooden table to grab what seemed to be a half-used lotion bottle. however, you didn’t expect for him to completely change the topic, flipping your own words around with a blunt, “do you need something?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, girl.”

the banter…

he was definitely cocky, playful, literally any other synonym would fit.

you hated how he’d get you speechless everytime. you loathed how he was such an effect on you. with a brief gnaw on your bottom lip you narrow your eyes, mumbling out a, “stupid question.”

“i agree,” toji smirks. “but eh. y’er a smart girl. ‘m sure you can come up with a good comeback soon.”

he was so annoying, entirely so.

it’d be simple interactions like that between the two of you. much to your surprise though, nothing really else happened. toji would tease you a bit then pretend nothing happened, throw you a compliment or two and call it a day.

toji would often visit daily or twice a day, mainly to hang with your father. you could care less about what they did, but you were bored out of your mind from being in the house all day. you could go out, but it’s not like you had anyone to go with. everyone was either busy or … busy. besides, most of your friends were on exotic vacations or out of the country—you sighed, rubbing a hand against your stomach as you stared in the ceiling wall.

but then, the most lasciviously filthy thought made its way into your thoughts. you thickly swallowed before reaching a hand down between your legs. the air grew abnormally dry, shame…

to be completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. this couldn’t have ever been a more perfect time. you were sure your father and his cocky best friend was out at top golf, probably.

intaking a single breath, you lean back against your pillow—slowly, you started to focus on your breathing.

parting your legs, you lightly pull down your shorts before tugging your panties to the side. you wince for a little, realizing how you were already a bit soaked. a little dampened spot right towards the front part of your underwear. you knew it had to be from pondering about toji.

speaking of, you remember that time where he helped—well, ‘attempted’ to cook dinner that one time. all you could focus on was his hands. such rough thick hands, you wondered what’d it feel like to have those same hands gingerly wrap around your throat. such thick fingers shove down your throat while he calls you such degrading names—just anything.

the more you were deep in thought, the more drenched you started to become. you went slow, being patient with yourself. you imagined it was toji’s fingers instead of yours. such big fingers thrusting in and out of you.

steadily, you start to insert a single finger in. a middle finger, it felt good, you suppressed a single moan and by this point, your imagination was running wild. you allowed your body to relax for a few moments before you slipped another finger inside. seconds later, you started to gentle move around inside your clit. your pace was sweet and precise—you let out a soft moan that rang throughout your thin walls. “toji—f-fuckkk.”

your voice was shaky, imagining toji being here right now made you throb ten times more. just propped all up behind you, thrashing his fingers against your swollen folds made you more aroused than you ever thought. your thrusts against your own entrance was small, a steady pace but irregular enough to make your knees start to buckle.

throwing your head back a little, you started to whine as each second dragged. your breath became insignificantly heavy, hitched and all. you made sure to stimulate in all the right areas, adapting to a perfect rhythm, then that’s when you’re rudely interrupted. talk about a cliche.

“hey. is it anymore detergen—”

toji pauses mid sentence, literally trying to process the scenery in front of him. he stands still and his initial reaction was slow. the first thing he does is chortle lowly. “well, shit. is this a bad time?”

you’ve never felt anymore embarrassed in your life, a sudden wave of heat rushed over your body before you quickly shielded yourself with your blanket. “oh my god,” you’d squeak out, and toji averts his eyes elsewhere for a few seconds. “i thought you all left already.”

toji hums. he takes a moment, and it’s as if he’s thinking of what to say. he was amused, seeing your flustered state and he looks back at you. “we were but it got canceled last minute since a storm’s approaching,” and you let off a soft gulp, hearing his footsteps creak against your wooden floor as he got closer. “thank god it was me who came in here ‘n not your father, right princess? now that’d be embarrassing.”

“stop calling me that,” you grumble, and you don’t even realize how soft and weak your voice was. you slowly pull your fingers out before intaking another sharp breath. he glanced at you before simpering. “haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“girl,” toji utters in a low rasp. “the door was wide open. i can’t knock on air,” and you mentally eye rolled — he was so insufferable. incredibly so, toji’s eyes roam across your old room that was a bit scattered with some boxes from when you moved out four years ago. it was a bit unkempt, your father usually used your room sometimes just to store things from the attic. toji buried his hands into his pockets before chuckling. “i heard you, ya know. moaning my name all loud like that.”

you blinked thrice, sitting up before compressing your eyebrows together. “what?”

“whaaat?” he jeers, mocking you. toji inches closer towards you until he was right beside your bedside. you gaze up at him and he had a blunt sticking out from the corner of his lips. he looked so appetizing, even while dressed down. ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. you could tell he was fit, of course he was—you saw him shirtless. he was well likely in his early thirties, dressing so laid back and casual. “between you and me, sweetheart, you can do better. ‘s cute ‘n all but that’s not how ya finger yourself. been a while, yeah?”

this guy, he was so bold. casually speaking his dirty mind, not afraid to say anything.

you don’t know why, but those last few words made you throb. you loathed how right he was, it was as if he could read you like a book. between studies and actually living a university student’s life, you barely ever get time to yourself. time to please yourself.

“whatever,” you utter. “yeah... it’s been a while.”

“poor thing,” he clicks his tongue before taking a seat on your bed. it jitters from his weight for a bit before he peers a gaze at you. “hm,” he puffs out, dragging a hand against his jeans. “i’d be happy to help though. those useless fingers of yours can only please you so much, right? heh.”

this indescribable effect he had on you, it heavily irked your nerves. “…please,” and you don’t even register what quickly came out of your mouth.

you were so pent up by this point, being interrupted. you wanted to finish, you desperately wanted to finish. your soft breaths hitched, and toji’s intimate stare lingered on you for a bit. his loud cologne started to waft across the entire room, so intoxicating. “just make me finish, please.”

“there’s those manners,” he coos in a husky tone, and he gets up closer. he was purely teasing you, you just wanted to feel his touch . . . feel something at least. he pulls the fat cover that went over you, yet at a more tantalizingly slow pace. he was a mere tease, you nearly let off a whine once you felt the tips of his warm fingers skim past your thighs. “messy girl,” he mumbles, and then he pauses to glance at you. “are you sure? jus’ wanna-”

“toji,” you mutter, and you liked hearing you roll his name so sweetly off your tongue. seeing you grow purely frustrated was utter amusement to him. the way your eyebrows would curl and furrow, irises flaring and your jaw slightly tensing. you had such readable body language by default too. “please. i want you. just touch me.”

he simpers. “pretty please.”

“……”

again, he was so infuriating. you felt yourself starting to pant, not knowing how much longer you could take as he started to softly trail a thumb against your skin. his touch was so warm, it was intense and ignited something within you.

“touch me—pretty please, toji.” you mutter out, sprawling your legs out just a bit. it was so hot, the temperature surrounding the atmosphere of the room was so humid. he glances at you before smiling.

“that’s a good girl.”

his words warmed your heart in such a lewd provocative way, you just wanted his touch.

desperately yearning for it, toji leans up close, bringing a big hand to part your legs apart and he was so slow. he takes the blunt that was propped up between his teeth, setting it aside near your nightstand. you prepare to inhale deeply, not expecting him to then bring a tender kiss towards your inner thighs. he started to create a trail—a trail that gingerly went up and up and up.

“so sensitive,” he’d purr, watching your own body melt from just the softness of his lips against your skin. you wanted him to hurry, you replayed this exact scenario over and over at least a dozen times. now that it was reality, you just knew that your body wanted him. “oh. don’t give me that look,” and he smirks, watching the pout grow against your lips. “gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me how you’d like for me to start?”

“i need you to—eat me out,” you huff out in short singular breaths. you were throbbing rapidly, each moment he stalled to speak, the more aroused you grew. his warm breath just fanning against your folds had you nearly going weak.

he snickers. “need?” he repeats, and you moan once he swiftly drags a finger down your soaked cunt. it was drenched, but it could be a bit more. toji hums to himself cockily. “you don’t need shit, girl. fix your sentence ‘n talk proper..”

“i—” you gripe, starting to grow more and more frustrated. your vexed facial expression amused him. he raises his darkened brows, awaiting for your answer and the cute pout that continued to stretch across your lips was so cute. “i— i want you to eat me out, pretty please.”

“much better,” he says in a low gruff. the moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit, toji gently strokes a thumb up and down. opening you up slowly, he creates a single slow lick to make you whimper. “i’ll make ya cum quicker than you ever could, princess.”

and you knew he probably wouldn’t lie about a simple fact like that. toji’s touch, it was sloppy.

without a doubt, he was a messy eater.

just one taste of you and he was hooked—a new addiction for him and it wasn’t gambling.

you tasted sweet, candied even. he was in so deep, occasionally the tip of his nose would prod against your entrance. you slumped back against the bed, your legs twitching in pleasure. not before long, your lips started to part and you started to gnaw on your hardened knuckles. you didn’t wanna be too loud—you just remembered your father was right downstairs.

he didn’t have the best hearing in the world, but knowing you, you could be a bit overzealous with your moans.

the noises his tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling. he even broke away his lips just to spit a nice wad onto your pussy. you watched the entire time, mesmerized. he was so nasty—nasty and you only wanted more. toji continued to drag a thumb against your slit, lapping up your slick arousal that was already starting to drip down his chin. it ran further down, a bit of his trimmed facial hair now soaked with your sweetness.

“how’s it feel, princess,” he’d mutter out, briefly departing his lips away. as he does—you stare as a pretty cobweb of his own spit tugs against your own entrance. glistening and all, it was so sheeny. he was right between your precious thighs, and you couldn’t help but give his ruffled dark hair a light pull. “tell me how i make you feel. talk to me nice, girl.”

“good,” you whimper, nearly choking on your own saliva. your words were so trembly, you could hardly recognize yourself. it’s been a while since you’ve been eaten out, let alone being intimate. as you continued to let off irregular breathing patterns, you swallow. “f-feels good.”

“just good?” he’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. you let off a whine once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth. his tongue scrapes against your folds time and time again. it’s indescribable—toji’s head shook back and forth as he was nose deep into your pussy. for a moment, he sounds offended.

toji gives your cunt a sweet little kiss, and he feels it start to hastily pulse from doing so.

he knew you were getting close, all from a simple cue from his tongue. speaking of toji’s tongue . . it was lengthy.

so long, it reached areas that had your eyes mindlessly rolling back.

cute little cacophonies of, “oh my g-godddd,” repeated ghosts past your lips as you started to practically drag his face against you. the texture of his tongue—so moist and slick, already wet from obvious reasons, but grew even more dampened from your sheer arousal. it was a taste his tastebuds grew to crave more of. “gonna c-cum toji. f-fuckkk.”

“you’re gonna wait for me, little girl,” he grouses, and your irises fleetingly dilate. he gifts the entrance of your cunt with another string of spit, then he rubs a few circles against it. mean vigorous circles that made your legs pathetically twitch. “you make a mess when i tell you too.”

he was so mean.

such sternness in his tone, yet it turned you on. that slight secretive rasp that hid underneath his voice. toji breaks his lips away for a moment, glaring at you before focusing near the crevices of your thighs. he teasingly slides his tongue upward, away from your most sensitive area just to watch you squirm.

“toji,” you’d whimper, feeling his tongue just roam everywhere from below. he was so skilled, you’ve never had a man be so sloppy. at least in a way that toji was. he greedily sucks near your thighs, gently sinking his canines into the plush of your thighs before going back towards your pussy. “i can’t—can’t hold..”

you were barely able to finish your sentence, and that’s when you came — it was so sudden and abrupt. gushing all out of you and your nerves had your mind spiraling. a constant crazed loop.

it felt like a wave, a tsunami crashing down and it felt so good.

your orgasm that shortly followed was so loud, you didn’t even bother trying to cover your mouth. toji chuckles, cupping his mouth around the very top part of your achey slit before lapping his tongue against your hood. your hips temporarily quavered due to his tongue, and you still maintained a rough grip on his head.

“easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he’d grunt after feeling you roughly yank on his strands bringing a kiss towards your slick entrance. you swallowed, your legs feeling practically mush before he brings a terse spank towards your clit. “cute ‘n all, but i didn’t say you could finish yet.”

“s-sorry,” you’d breathe out, still feeling the after effects of your intense high. it was so good, your eyes were all hooded and droopy. toji saw a bit of drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and hums silently.

he sighs, leaning up before getting on top of you. he hovers himself and you stare up at him. he rests both arms over you, groping near the rickety headrest before leaning up close to your face.

“are you sorry, sweetheart?” and he gets up a bit closer, green viridescent eyes glance right into you—you smelled the mint and brief tang of alcohol residing on his tongue. using another hand to grab your chin, he softly pulls your bottom lip down before derisively grinning. “aw. nothing to say? no back talk this time?”

“i… want a kiss,” you pant, feeling his warm body just inches away from colliding against yours. just a single inch and he’d be grinding on you. “kiss me.”

“oh i dunno. sounds like a demand, babygirl,” he’d sneer, and your eyes leer near his scar. it was damp a little from him just being between your thighs a moment ago. perhaps it was a bit filthy, but you wanted to taste it. taste him. “ask me the right way.”

you pout, staring right into his eyes. “i wan— can i get a kiss, pretty please. i just want a kiss.”

“course ya can,” he utters, and that’s right when he squeezes your chin. your lips were plump and glossy. toji stares at you back for a long while, studying your cute expressions before he leans right in. the kiss was passionate, it felt so wrong but felt so right. you moaned the second his lips crashed onto yours. he finds it cute, feeling your arms rub and feel around his slim waist. you were pulling him closer — a sign that you wanted more of him. toji teasingly grinds his hefty body against you, and you whimper in his mouth once you feel his thick bulge prod against your panties that were halfway on you. “mhm.” he’d groan.

while his tongue skims against yours, you part your lips a bit for him and the incoming savory taste you’d get a treat out of.

you made sure to savor it, so sweet with a bit of spice.

running your tongue against his, breaking away to lick near his chin, softly making sure to lick near his stubble—you cleaned your own mess off of him. without him asking you either, toji grunts as he watched you through his peripherals. he’d never expect his best friend to have such a nasty girl for a daughter.

“y’er fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, breaking away and watching both strands of spit leave and depart. your lips curv into a cute needy scowl before he heard your father suddenly call out from downstairs.

“honey? i said, was that a scream…? is everything okay?”

your eyes widen, not even knowing your father was speaking—yelling actually. toji snickers, and now he’s the one suddenly quiet. prick.

“o-oh um,” you clear your throat, sitting up and that’s when toji starts to create soft chaste kisses near the inside of your neck. you nearly moaned before turning your head to speak. “i’m—i’m fine. i thought i saw a cockroach.”

“cockroach? do you need me to come up and—”

“no!” you’d quickly reply before clearing your throat once more. you let off a sigh, feeling toji start to suck near your collarbone. “i mean, no dad. i’m okay. thanks anyways.”

“okay honey, if you say so.”

toji chortles. “fuck. you’re bad at lying. just tell y’er old man you were getting eaten out by me.”

you glare at him, immensely bringing your brows into a furrow. “no, i’m not gonna say that. are you crazy?”

“maybe.”

you eye rolled, yet part of you felt like he wasn’t exactly lying. after all, he could probably be insane—perhaps he was.

you didn’t know, and to be frank, you didn’t really care. all you really cared about was getting pleasured—riding out orgasm after orgasm with him, and that’s exactly what you ended up doing for hours on end.

toji would find himself leaned back against your pillow, studying your hips carefully before grinning.

the moment you lightly shove him back, he clicks his tongue. “oh?” he says, and you already sprung his dick out. he was very much hard, presenting you with an upward slight curve. you licked your lips, hovering over him before giving him a few strokes. a groan slips past his lips and your thumb brushes against the various veins that ran just below his foreskin. “y’er gonna ride me? can a sweet girl like you even handle it?”

“shut up,” you’d fuss, and he just smirks at you. you wanted to wipe that smug expression from his face. he knew just how to irritate your nerves. toji watches you throw your leg over him, a simple hook around. you’re straddling him now and he brings two rough hands to attach near your hips. you lean in to kiss him again and he returns it, slowly tilting his head back and your arms wrap around him. he feels you reach down, grabbing ahold of his shaft before softly sliding the head of his dick near your slick entrance. “s-shit. you’re big.”

“i try not to disappoint,” he slyly says, sliding a thumb near your hips. his voice was so low, so pompous and arrogant. you give him a glare but he only hums out of pure amusement. “barely the tip in ‘n y’er struggling. need my help, sweetheart?”

you ignored him and he smirks, allowing you to do your thing—you bring one hand towards his chest, gently feeling near his perfectly chiseled abs. he was so toned, tracing against his tense muscles and he watches your every move. it was as if time was stood still, he chuckles at how eager you were. you weren’t like him, you weren’t patient and thorough. you were a bit more rushed and sloppy—cute, it was very much cute to him though.

a moan goes past your lips once the wet tip of his slowly starts to sink inside. it had a few droplets of pre-cum leaking down, and you slowly rocked your hips in place to get comfortable. his eyes go lower to focus more on your body, the grip he had on your waist was so rough and sensual. because toji was so thick — it took you a good six minutes, six precise minutes to reach all the way down to the base. your lips opened a bit, and you let off a soft shrilling whimper once you did a cute attempt at jerking forward.

“take it slow,” he purrs in such a rasp, you leisurely started to lurch back and forth once he was buried all the way down to the hilt. you inhale deeply and he was so hefty. balls deep, swollen balls that was hidden and engulfed beneath your inner walls. “atta girl.” he praises, watching you try to maintain a decent rhythm.

ringing went throughout your ears, you felt all hot.

toji playfully brings a hand to feel near your tummy. you were wearing some old university hoodie. it was comfortable, but much to his surprise, you didn’t have a bra underneath. he hums to himself, and you let off a moan once his hand trails ever further. further and further until his thumb brushes against your perky nipples.

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and another hand of his was tightly clinging onto the left part of your waist. you were riding him smoothly. yet since he was so big, you started to feel your thighs building up with drowsiness. your efforts were cute to him, so desperately eager to get off.

his black lashes flicker, and the way he’s all leaned back and manspread was so attractive—you felt your back start to naturally arch and it didn’t take long for toji to reach that particular spot. once you felt his tip prod against there—way past inside the orifices of your cunt, you let off a sweetened whimper. “found it,” he whispers, bringing you close towards his chest. you lean into his touch, intaking his cologne into your nose before your hand starts to wander all over his body. he liked how handsy you were, slipping a hand right underneath his shirt to feel a part of his abs. you made sure to trace directly on each line, each tender flexing muscle. all the way down onto his sharp v-line. further down, you started to feel his happy trail. your favorite.

he grunts, feeling the softness of your hands meander freely. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he gruffs in a sharp breath. an imaginary lump getting caught in his throat — he was holding both of your hips upright and by this point you were slamming right onto his thick cock. “touch me more. feel all over me baby.”

“can i—” you started, leaning in to kiss near the crook of his neck. your voice was soft, a bit trembly before your hands went up this time. feeling near his pecs before a breath gets caught in his throat. “can i feel here, toji?”

“f-fuckin’ girl,” he groans, a chill running down his spine the second he feels you gently rubbing a thumb against his nipples this time. toji was surprisingly far more sensitive despite his rough front he was putting up, it was a bit cute. after all, he did say feel all over you. toji was panting now, while you rode him continuously, he swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “whatever.”

you giggle, watching him now be the one with a pouty expression this time. you plant a kiss near where his slanted scar went down his lip before he spanks your ass. “just ‘cause ‘m sensitive there doesn’t mean ‘m gonna get all whiney for you, girl,” he utters in a raspy tone. the sharp sting from the spank felt good.

you felt yourself twitch between your thighs whilst your hips moved in harmony. you do a little back bend with your hips, constantly jerking against him and he grunts with how slow yet sloppy your movements were. “keep goin’ slow like that. ‘m gonna—cum.”

his voice consistently got deeper, and the tips of his fingers gently pierced into your skin—you were vocal yourself though. moan after moan, a constant repeat. you found yourself whining out his name as if it was a lewd mantra. over and over again, to toji though, it was purely music to his ears.

he feels you start to slow down a bit though, exactly at the minute he tells you he was approaching his incoming release. toji clenched his jaw, gifting the fat of your ass with another mean spank. “f-fuck. keep fuckin’ me. make me fuckin’ cum.”

you plant kisses near his neck this time, near the very inside and you swiftly quicken your pace a little. he was stuffing you full of thick inches, full of such girth that had your tongue salivating right in your mouth. you could only imagine what it’d feel like to have his seed pouring into you. you couldn’t lie to yourself, ever since you saw toji shirtless. his bulge sticking out through his towel, you only imagined he’d be so full of cum to give. you tilt your hips backwards, and he lets off a husky groan.

that particular spot reached so deep, you felt it too. his cockhead pokes and taps repeatedly against your sweet spot and you sob out a needy, “f-fuck, ‘s right there,” you tilt forward and he’s just about reaching his peak. the longer you took, the more spanks you received.

toji was a patient man, but only for so long.

the bed frame creaked constantly, it was the only tune that played in the background. he slithers a hand down between your thighs and spanks your cunt a few times. you whimpered, already a bit sensitive but felt something else approaching. “toji— toji.”

toji groans, the build up nearly taking his breath away. with your rhythmic thrusts against him, his eyes merely roll and he has to take a minute to catch his breath. you wrap a hand around his throat—tenderly of course—then place your lips onto his once he finally finishes inside of you.

he didn’t expect for you to choke him, but he liked it.

he liked how forward you were, your thumb lightly grazed against his adam’s apple, and a deep grunt gets trapped in his throat. your cunt was practically overflowed with such dumps of his cum—you’ve never felt more filled. toji shook a little, a hand gripping your ass as you kissed him.

slowly, he started to feel himself get addicted.

he already was addicted from having a simple taste of you earlier, but he was getting infatuated. you had him whipped, and he knew this probably wouldn’t be a one time thing.

albeit, the last thing you expect is to pull away from the kiss once you feel a sudden pressure brewing up within you.

momentarily, you whine—feeling a sudden familiar wetness coat his base. nerves all throughout your body had you locked in a trance, and you pause your hips before toji tsks.

“little girl,” he mumbles with a sly smile. “did you just squirt on me?”

it was so unexpected, you pant heavily—heave after heave leaving your lips before you moan out a sweet, “y-yes.”

“don’t be shy about it. i like when it’s messy,” he sneers, his eyes tantalizingly trailing down your body once more before he lifts you up just a bit from his shaft. he observes the lewd mess, how much cum trickled past your thighs and he hums. “wanna do that again? i bet i can do it in five minutes, baby.”

to say you were being treated like a rag doll was an understatement.

toji was ruthless with you, ruthless with you in your own house. well, ex-house. you didn’t live here anymore but you used to.

he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. making you imitate and try positions you’ve never even heard of—you were getting stretched, easily said. it’s been hours by this point, you weren’t even in your room anymore. you were in the bathroom with him.

toji had you propped up against the door, you’re taking him from behind and you’re roughly biting down on your lip.

entirely so, it was still risky.

your father was right outside near the living room doing who knows what. probably watching some sports program—yet of course, he started to grow curious of where his best pal went. initially, toji said he had to use the restroom.

like four hours ago . .

he was so mean too, spanking your ass numerous times. your ass was perked upright for him, and you’re leaning against the door. you whimpered, feeling him grip on your panties that he refused to pull off of you.

oh, he likes seeing it dangle and thwack against your skin. the pretty fabric just cutely rubbing against your thighs. his weight just barely hovers against you and he’s smacking right into you.

your cunt swallowed his hefty inches each and every time—by this point, you weren’t sure if you could even give him one more.

you lost count of how many mind blowing orgasms that you were just completely intoxicated from his dick and his dick alone.

toji’s rough bare hands grab onto both parts of your ass, spreading it before deepening his strokes just a bit. you moaned, feeling every inch store inside of your sweet cunt. he knew just where to hit you. you breathe through your mouth and your nose at the same time, heavy cute pants that started to fog up the door’s material.

“fuck, fuck me f-fuckkk,” you’d drag out, and your back naturally arches just from a teasing touch of his finger racing down your back.

your ass was held up high and your cheek was softly nudging against the cold door. another build up was approaching and you were just so in awe—you were literally thinking, where has he been all your life? “close, ‘m getting closer.”

“bet you are. drippin’ all on me ‘n it’s fuckin’ nasty,” he replies—yet you freeze once you hear footsteps approach the door. it was your father, right when you were about to cum—you feel toji’s hand wrap around your mouth. your eyes roll backwards, and then he speaks through the other end of the door.

“toji? hehe, did ya fall in there man? you’re missing the game. we’re down by four points.”

toji chuckles, hearing a tiny muffled squeak go past your lips. he was balls deep, giving you such thick vigorous inches. that’s when he leans right up close to you—a hand still propped to have your mouth shut before whispering in a raspy tone. “you gotta be quiet, sweetheart. you want y’er old man to hear you make a sloppy mess on me?”

you shake your head, making an attempt to try and suck on his fingers and be smiles. “messy baby.”

your mouth was now stuffed with nothing but his thick fingers. you moaned, coating each digit with your glistening saliva as he pounded right into you. the grip your cunt had on him made him groan. eyes roll into the depths of your cranium so far back that your vision was pure black. squelch after squelch, it was so erotic. the build up of your incoming release yet again.

it was so slow and tense, you felt your thighs ache and tremble the more you were arched all over for him. the most sluttiest arch he’s seen in a while.

“huh—oh, nah man i’m good,” toji replies with a simper. you were trying so hard to be quiet, if your father heard anything, that’d be a wrap for you.

dying out of pure embarrassment certainly wasn’t on your bucket list for sure. the way toji responded was so casual, almost as if he wasn’t just happily drilling into his best friend’s cunt in his own home. “four points? shit. defense can’t do anything right.”

“telllll me about it! i could play better with my eyes closed, damn.”

you found it so irksome how they were casually having a dumb conversation whilst you were just about to gush right onto toji’s shaft—you felt him dip his hips into you deeper though, and you let off a sweet whine.

toji leans into your ear and whispers. “you’re doing a good job, sweetheart,” and then he chuckles. removing his hand, you nearly let off the most loudest orgasm imaginable but you kept it together by biting your tongue. it was a cute squeal, and as your legs part you made such a mess.

again…

it was probably the umpteenth time.

while you ride out your release, he’s slowing down his strokes and stares at the excess cum filling up your entrance. toji licks his lips, dragging a thumb to plug it all back in once he pulls out. he didn’t like putting things to waste. you whimper, feeling so taken aback from how stuffed full you were.

it was an awkward silence, you felt a sharp scare in your stomach once you thought your father heard everything — but thankfully so, he plopped right back down on the couch. toji lets you take a moment to calm down, and then he brings a wet kiss towards your lips. you were so sensitive, trembling within his hold—you didn’t want him to leave just now.

“atta girl,” he purrs, that same sly smile pressing against his lips as he brings a thumb towards your lip. his gaze was so hypnotizing. such pools of green eyes looked like it had a story to tell, and perhaps you wanted to know just who toji fushiguro really was.

maybe that story is ready for another day though.

thankfully you didn’t get caught.

or did you—you had to leave out the bathroom first, then toji after about a lengthy minute time difference so it wouldn’t be remotely suspicious. once the both of you were out, after about an hour of you all crammed up and watching the boring never ending basketball game, your dad ends up going to the bathroom.

while he was occupied, you leaned against toji and he wraps an arm around you. he could tell you wanted more—but his gaze was stern, telling you with his eyes to basically be a good girl and be patient.

a few seconds pass before you father bellows out a pitched, “erm. toji? is this shampoo—? what’s this white stuff over the sink? doesn’t look like shampoo.”

the both of you share the same frozen expression, impish smiles fading before you nudge toji to speak after long seconds passes.

“huh? oh, that’s uh mayonnaise. i forgot to clean up after myself.”

“aren’t you allergic to mayonnaise?”

you mentally facepalm, watching toji break into a sheepish sweat before he gruffs out a low, “i guess not that brand of mayonnaise.”

“right. riiiight,” your father mutters, and you heard sudden shifting. it was abrupt, and you felt something fall — probably a brush from the familiar after sound, you then hear your dad add a follow up question. “wait a minute,” and he glances down near the floor. “are these panties?”

#★vegasbaby. #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #cw sex mention #jjk x reader smut

[nmakii]

RELIGION’S IN YOUR LIPS.

— making out with lucifer. that’s it

— gn!reader, no pronouns, a little mature?, religious themes

hell. the everlasting damnation for sinners; a place meant for the cruelest and barbaric of humanity. yet, their king was the purest heart of them all; a dreamer and an angel condemned for his huge dreams.

the cries of sinners echoed into white noise as smooth jazz played softly in the background. a gentle saxophone melody complimenting the deep vocals of the singer.

the moment at present was nothing but pure, passionate heaven. the beautiful angel before you gazing at you with lidded eyes as he grinned sappily.

and there in the dimly lit room, was only you and lucifer. in that room, there was no heaven, no hazbin hotel, no one else in the universe except for the two of you. no one but the two of you, here in this room as he gently held you by your hip, his left hand resting itself on your back.

the alter is my hips

even if its a false god,

we’d still worship this love

your forehead rested on his, softly swaying your hips to the sensual music. a sigh left lucifer’s lips as he leaned into your lips.

his left hand moved up, keeping you grounded to reality by your hair, gently guiding you into his lips.

your hands moved from his hips onto his shoulder and on his cheek, gently rubbing his jawline with your thumb.

his intoxicating kiss simply took your breath away. his left hand moving onto your chin, gently pleading for access into your mouth.

you graciously granted his wish, not even having a second to breathe before his forked tongue made it’s way into your mouth.

his hand on your hip tightened its’ grip, keeping you close to him, almost as if he was afraid you’d vanish before his eyes.

his tongue explored your mouth as far as he could, claiming every part of your gorgeous mouth as his own; your rosy lips, your sharp tongue— it was his.

the two of you had been brought back to reality by the fading of the harmonic melody, signifying the end of the seductive song.

as you pulled back, the two of you caught your breath, enraptured with each other’s taste. simply greedy for more, eyes begging for more of each other as you leaned in closer.

perhaps that’s why you’re in hell.

oh well.

you might as well give into that greed, right?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel smut

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Casual was much harder rule to abide by when Eddie spent more time with you, as facilitated by his daughter. Dialed back was a flirting style you weren't accustomed to, and proved near-impossible to follow when Eddie's lips were pressed to your ear.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, slight scent kink, allusion to jerking off, reader wears eddie's jacket, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 5/20 [wc: 15.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 5: You're Gonna Get Me in Trouble

————

The days of the week lost their meaning in the best way. Turning from one to the next like the colors of the leaves. Falling in and out of obscurity. What was a Monday, when Monday felt like Friday? And what was a Friday, when the familiar clicking sound of your bicycle spokes found him on a Saturday?

The days blurred. The edges sharpened. They were long when the sun was short. They were beautiful, and aggressively tender, including the lows, because the lows themselves used to be the highs.

The days swirled into an everlasting seasoned breeze of cherished moments. Too many to fill the memories of those collecting them. Glimpses into a life of pleasantness–of contentedness–if one were to grasp them.

————

Leather. Vanilla cologne. Spicy deodorant and earthy tobacco.

You grabbed the cuffs of your sweater into your fists and worked your arms down the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket before grabbing your bike from the porch, and setting off on your shortcut through the frosty grass.

The farther you journeyed, the more you smelled like him. The more you sounded like him.

In Robin’s driveway, cigarette smoke overwhelmed your nose, but as your skin warmed from exertion, the nuances appeared. The natural musk clinging to the inside lining, and the artificial fragrances on top, now enveloping you. You turned onto the main road leading to the auto shop, and the chains on the sleeve cuff clinked against the broken zipper. Bouncing your tire up onto the sidewalk, the snap tab collar jangled in time with the small rocks you rode over on the way to the front employee door. You dismounted your bike in a fluid motion, and the supple leather made to fit Eddie creaked and groaned as you got out your keys.

The door opposite you in the garage was ajar, meaning he was smoking in the alleyway.

Quietly, you went to the break room, and said your peace. “Boy’s clothes are always better.”

Standing in front of the coat hooks, you slipped your hands into the pockets and pulled out the items for no other reason than to observe them in remembrance, as if you hadn’t inspected them for hours over the weekend. A half-empty pack of Camels crowded with rolling papers. Translucent green BIC lighter. A grocery receipt from two weeks ago with an obscene amount of pasta and marinara listed on it. A peppermint candy wrapper you could now confirm came from the candy dish on your desk intended for customers. And, of course, a tiny blue high heel shoe belonging to a Barbie doll. Because what father wouldn’t have that in their pocket.

Returning the items from whence they came, you fished a strip of paper out of your jeans, and added it to his treasure.

You removed the warmth you’d become accustomed to, and stared at the coat hook. You glanced down the hallway. Listened for Eddie.

Silence pressed in on you.

Intentionally, after spending more time doing this in bed than you cared to admit, you found his scent to be the strongest on the inside of the collar, and brought it to your nose.

Hugging the jacket to your chest, you inhaled deep, and sighed.

Years of the leather being draped around his neck did wonders for your loneliness since moving here. Last night you caved despite the voice in your head telling you it was weird to find comfort in your coworker’s belongings. As you stared into pitch-black attic, laying alone in a borrowed twin size bed with someone else’s parent’s hand-me-down blankets, cold, and without the glow or noise of the city to keep you company, you surrendered, and wrapped yourself in him. It was a split second decision, quickly overwhelmed by a sensation you hadn’t felt in quite some time. And it was an emotion you were more than happy to shove behind the other clutter in your brain, vowing you’d unpack it some other day, totally. Definitely. You’d absolutely process the heady buzz, and delightful sweat breaking out across your skin at the thought of your coworker’s arms giving you this embrace, and being able to press your nose to the crook of his neck to experience his salty taste on your tongue first-hand.

A squeaky truck passed by on the street, breaking you out of your spell.

“Good God, get a hold on yourself,” you begged aloud, and hung up the jacket.

~~~

The coffee machine sputtered liquid energy into the pot, signifying the end of your morning chores. And yet, Eddie had not made his appearance, whether it was wanted or not, depending on if he was hiding around a corner, or doing the thing he did where he stood next to you and looked like he wanted to say something, but never did.

The back door was still ajar. You poked your head out, and he was there, leaning against the wall. The stubby end of his cigarette was pinched between his forefinger and thumb with a trail of smoke coming off of it.

Early sunrays pierced the tree-lined horizon, gilding the silhouette of his nose in brilliant beauty. He heard you step onto the rocks, and rolled his head to the side to watch you stand between him and his car. The sun caught his hair. Glanced off the gentle slope of his cheek. Caused him to squint one of his eyes, and wrench his mouth into a lopsided grimace.

“Good morning,” he was first to say.

“Good morning,” you replied brightly. “You cut your hair.” By the way his face fell, you gathered he assumed no one would notice, but the feathery edge of his bangs curled higher onto his forehead, flaunting the harsher shadows of his confusion. You reassured him, “It looks good.”

He continued to stare at you without an emotion you could decipher.

“Really good?” you added, thinking he was seeking a better compliment.

With a soft smile and averted gaze, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, and admitted, “Sometimes I have problems vocalizing my thoughts before they’re gone, and I forget you can’t hear them if I don’t blurt them out. Luckily, my daughter demonstrated much better manners than I did, and thanked you for her costume, while I–”

“Waved for an obscenely long time, and then made fun of me,” you finished.

On cue, you both made eyes at each other, and looked away.

The sun couldn’t compete with his smile. The birdsong couldn’t compete with your giggle.

“Yeah,” he exhaled in a croaky groan. “I did do that, didn't I?” You shrugged and told him it didn’t bother you. It was just how you teased each other. “Still, thank you for putting in so much effort to make it special for her. She was crazy excited when she saw it. My uncle, too. I–uh, I appreciate you doing that for us more than I let on.”

“I know you do.” While Eddie may not have shared many of the details of his life prior to your arrival in Hawkins, it was evident in his every decision that people were not frequently kind to him, and the simple act of noticing he trimmed his bangs was something he’d think about for days.

“You think my hair looks good?” he asked, circling back to the original topic.

“The bangs, or everything?”

After a beat of consideration, he ventured, “Everything?”

You tilted your head. “Oh, it’s outdated. Messy. Unprofessional and like you just woke up from a 7-year coma. The worst case of bed head I’ve ever seen. More like a bird’s nest after a storm than anything, but yeah, it suits you. Can’t picture you with any other hairstyle, to be honest.” His expression was a mixture of bafflement, yet also flattery. You put emphasis on the latter. “I love it. It’s wild. I think you look good,” followed by, “for a weirdo,” to dodge the implication of calling him attractive.

In the long seconds that ensued, you rocked from foot to foot, waiting for him to say anything. Do anything besides stare at you with a slight smirk. Anything at all to make you feel like your nervous habits weren’t being examined under a microscope.

Cheeks suitably burning from the shyness of saying too much, you tugged your sleeves into your sweaty palms, and pivoted while saying, “Welp, time for me to be anywhere else on Earth but here.”

You swung open the door to the garage and he spoke up.

“You look pretty today.”

Halting your momentum on a dime, you slid your gaze from the floor to him–to his way of pressing his shoulder blades to the brick wall, leaning his full weight into the pose, arms crossed over his chest, cigarette between his lips, eyes set on you with an irresistible amount of tenderness to them.

You said, “Thank you, handsome,” and left the door open behind you.

But before you walked inside, before you blinked away, you watched that tenderness widen to excitement. You saw the soft curve of his mouth stretch to a smile. Heard him expel his breath in a single stunned laugh. And you listened to his voice fade as he turned his face up to the sky, and took the final drag on his cigarette with a smug mumble of, “Knew it.”

————

The next morning you stared at the full coffee pot suspiciously. The countertop was wiped clean and the powder creamer container was replaced, alongside the sugar packets being restocked.

Still wearing your backpack, you slipped off one strap, swung it around to unzip the top, and put away your lunch in the fridge. While bent over, you surveyed the room again, and narrowed your eyes at the shiny glass pot filled with dark brown coffee.

A certain someone was feeling generous today, helping you out with your morning chores, and that certain someone was currently sneaking behind your desk.

Pretending to mull over who could do such a courteous thing for you, you ran your finger over the packets. Neatened the coffee stirrers. Hummed a pleasing tune as you left the room with heavy steps. Stomp, stomp, stomp, all the way to the end of the hallway, meandering just before you would turn to sit at your desk.

“Raaah!” Eddie jumped from behind the wall–hunched over, hands clawed at you, face etched with utter deviousness, grinning broadly to bare his teeth.

You took the coffee stirrer and thwacked him on the forehead before sidestepping to your chair.

His wickedness withered away. “Hey,” he complained, rubbing the sore spot. “How did you–?”

“Your reflection, dork.”

He clicked his tongue and peered down the hall at the full coffee pot and microwave door, both giving away his movements. “Damnit.”

————

Lunches together became the norm.

Even after Carl and Kevin left the room to ruminate over the real clunker of a car that came in yesterday, you and Eddie remained crowded together on one side of the round table, eating.

You swiped the crumbs from your sandwich into your container. “How’s Adrie’s sleep been? I thought the whole ‘regression’ thing was just for babies.”

Eddie spoke with his mouth full of half-chewed spaghetti, gesturing with his fork, “Usually, yeah. It’s more like she has nightmares ‘nd stuff. Scared of the dark. Monsters under the bed. That sorta thing.” He hadn’t even swallowed before dipping his garlic toast in the marinara sauce and taking a bite. “It’s gotten better, though. I think only one nightmare these past two weeks.”

It happened last Wednesday. You remembered. After your boss and the other guys went home, Eddie fell asleep at the table, and you turned off the lights for him, letting him rest after taking his work jacket off the hook and placing it over his shoulders. He always pretends to not be awake when you do that, but you could tell from his breathing when he was awake and when he wasn’t.

“That’s good,” you said. “I had a talk with her on Halloween about how the dark wasn’t so scary; how she was a bat and bats love the dark, and I’m a mouse, we’re nocturnal, nighttime is just like daytime and there’s nothing to be afraid of, yada yada..” You trailed off upon seeing the faint shadow of his dimple flourish. “What?”

“That’s a genius move,” he said, impressed. “You sure you’re not a parent?”

You wanted to continue the conversation, you really did, but..

Sighing, you closed your eyes. “Eddie, you have sauce–just–all over your mouth.”

“–Shit, sorry.” Intent on rushing to the stack of napkins near the sink, he didn’t notice how close you were, and stumbled into your chair when standing up.

He caught himself on you. His hands were heavy on your shoulders as he regained his balance. Landing there on accident, yet it felt on purpose when they remained a moment longer, benefitting from your innate response to clasp your hands over his wrists and ask if he were all right, looking up at him with wide eyes of concern and your cheek pressed to his forearm.

He cursed another apology from above your head, and withdrew his grip–but only after you let go, too.

————

“Oh, Adrie, I found that shoe you were.. looking.. for?”

It was the weekend before Eddie managed to wear his leather jacket. He reached into the pocket after coming inside from smoking on the makeshift porch attached to the front of his uncle’s trailer, and uncurled his fingers.

The blue high heel rolled across his palm along with a folded piece of paper.

Jutting his bottom lip in confusion, he gave his daughter the shoe, and as she galloped to her room to play with her dolls, he opened the note.

sorry i stole your jacket

 come to me for a prize when you find this :)

if you find this

So that’s why you gave him that weird expectant look every morning..

————

Facing you on the other side of your desk after a customer left the lobby with their receipt, Eddie held up the note pinched between his index and middle fingers. “What’s my prize?”

Elated, your eyes lit up at the sight, and you motioned for him to give it to you while you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder, and continued your conversation with the auto parts dealer. “So–Yeah, three of those,” you went on, making a note with your pencil on where you left off in the catalog. “Yes, the smaller size, please.” You wrote something on the back of the paper and gave it to him.

Eddie snatched it–darting his eyes over your handwriting–and his excitement melted.

you finally cleaned out your pockets

    your prize is a job well done ♡

“That’s not a prize,” he said, face falling into a pouty glare.

Unamused by his inability to keep his mouth shut when you were clearly busy, you turned your hand over as if to ask ‘what did you expect?’ and directed a question at the man over the phone.

Not one to be ignored, Eddie began searching through the candy dish for a treasure to appease his appetite for a reward, and spilled peppermints over the side as he dug to the bottom.

You made a shushing gesture at him, widening your eyes at the crinkling wrappers interrupting you. “You’re out of those? Okay, then, I’ll move on to the door handle replacement. Let me just find the model number,” you spoke evenly into the receiver.

Eddie grunted, not finding what he was looking for.

You snapped your fingers at him, and pressed the phone to your chest to muffle yourself, “Do you not have a job or something?”

He held up a pink Now and Later, and asked in a stage-whisper, “Where’s all the butterscotch candy?”

“Bu–What?” you balked. “You ate them all? Those are for customers, Eddie! Yes, I’m still here,” you rattled off a make and model for the car. Eddie’s eyebrows rose at the quick switch from your speaking voice, to your cloyingly sweet customer service nasally octave, and back down to your annoyed tone at him. “Stop eating candy not meant for you and get back to work. You’re distracting me, you absolute nuisance.”

“Can you buy more butterscotch ones? Those are my favorite.”

“Sure, gramps, I’ll get right on it.”

Undeterred, or perhaps spurred on by earning your attention, he flattened his stomach to the ledge, and leaned over, invading your space to grab a stack of Post-it notes from the far end of your desk. Your Post-It notes. Your Post-It notes in his scuffed up, greasy hands, and his wavy hair sweeping from over his shoulders to block you from reading the lines of numbers and letters you were about to recite.

“What’re you..” You gave up when he grabbed your favorite pen.

You slid the catalog into your lap and turned away from him, facing the wall as you ordered the rest of the parts you needed, ending the call with an unintentional chat about the mild autumn weather–two minutes tops–and spun around to no one. Eddie had gone out to the garage. But not before sticking a note right smack dab in the middle of your desk where you couldn’t ignore it.

BUY MORE BUTTERSCOTCH

                                     -EM

His initials. It was silly, but two months into knowing him, and you’d never heard his last name. It wasn’t said aloud by him, his friends, or the other mechanics. Maybe you’d remember to ask him what it is one day.

————

Eddie had one rule–no reading over his shoulder when he was writing in his black notebook.

“Oh, chill,” you scolded him. “I’m here to microwave my lunch, not read your diary.”

Mr. Moore was out of office and the photocopier was broken, meaning you had to bike to the drug store and use theirs, missing your lunch break. With Eddie being the only mechanic in today, and having no customers, he made himself at home over the hour you were gone to catch up on.. whatever it was he was catching up on.

He slammed the thin red book shut and flipped it over. And when he thought that wasn’t good enough, he smashed the looseleaf papers back into his binder, closed it, and scrambled for his notebook, tearing through it like a wild animal until he found a blank page. Quick–He spun in his chair and laced his fingers in his lap, donning a weak smile. About as composed as a floundering fish. 

A pink flush crept up his neck, and his heavy breathing caused his unbuttoned coveralls to open wider over his chest, showing more than a glimpse at his black shirt underneath, stretched taut across his pecs.

His pencil dropped to the floor.

“Uh, hey. Didn’t hear you walk in.”

“Yeah, that much was obvious,” you snorted.

“What took you so long? I thought it’d be, like, 15 minutes tops. You could’ve read the manual and fixed our own copier by now.”

You popped open the lid to your container, and placed it in the microwave. “I’d rather jump off a bridge than sit there and read instructions. Anyway, I took a detour to see an apart–”

“Actually, that’s a good question. Would you jump off a bridge if someone asked, with your policy and all?”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” You punched two minutes on the timer. “As I was saying–Do you know that motel that closed down on Cypress? Bobbie told me it was a little mom-and-pop place that struggled to compete with the Motel 6.”

Perplexed as to where this was going, he squinted, and answered with a tepid, “Yeah?”

“Well,” you explained, “apparently someone bought the building and has been renovating them into apartments. I guess it wasn’t in too bad of a shape, with them just knocking down a few walls to make them into two bedrooms, and stuff. Bigger kitchens, whatever.” His features softened. The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes lessened, and the tenseness in his jaw weakened. “Bobbie met the guy who’s renovating them and, uh, they’re gonna be available sometime at the beginning of next year, and the projected rent isn’t that bad. Really manageable for the both of us. As long as her dad is getting better, we could be moving out soon. It’d be nice to not live in their attic anymore, y’know.” You ended it almost on a lilt, as if it were a question, but maybe you were just goading him into saying what was on his mind, because with the way he was looking at you, you had no idea what had him so captivated.

“I–Yeah, I know the place you’re talking about. It’s just a few minutes from here.” And he added helpfully, “It’d be a shorter commute to work.”

“Yeah!” you exhaled, nodding in agreement. “Shorter commute.”

“Yeah,” he said again, allowing the information to wash over you both in different ways. “Closer to the grocery store, too.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and the laundromat.”

Eddie raised his brows. “Oh, nice. I use that place when our washing machine is broken.”

By some miracle you kept your mouth shut, saving yourselves the trouble of listing more establishments you’d be near when you moved. He must’ve realized the awkwardness as well, because he fidgeted with his fingers sheepishly.

“So, does that mean you’re staying in Hawkins?”

Hearing him take interest in your future kicked up your heart rate. It could be coming from a place of blunt curiosity, or conversational politeness, but like hell if your adrenaline didn’t surge from the unmistakable way he leaned in, hanging onto your every word, as the warm hum of the microwave served as background music to the glimmer of eagerness in his eyes.

Downplaying your excitement, you told him one eensy-weensy tiny caveat about your situation, “I am, but Robin’s moving in with Vickie at some point–don’t know when, but probably by the end of summer when she goes back to Indianapolis.. so.”

“And after that?”

“Dunno. I can float rent and bills by myself for a few months, but I’m not sure after that. Could tag along with them to the city, or stay here and, y’know, keep answering phones and annoying my favorite mechanic like I do now. Maybe even find someone willing to go on another date with me, since my first one was a bust.” He didn’t laugh. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up back in New York and audition for Cats.” You threw it out there as an outlandish possibility without serious consideration, and you thought you conveyed that through your jokey tone.

The microwave beeped.

You turned around, missing the way Eddie averted his gaze down and away before speaking.

“Just waiting for the next big thing to catch your eye and sweep you away, huh?”

“Not the first time you said that,” you commented teasingly, thinking you were still playing with each other. You grabbed your steaming rice and stirred it with a fork from the cutlery drawer. “What’s wrong? Afraid of not having a pretty girl sit across from you at lunch every day? Scared some other mechanic’s gonna need a receptionist, and then I’ll be gone? Or are you worried you’ll actually miss me if I leave?”

You giggled at your melodramatic phrasing and waited for him to respond. And when he didn’t, you looked over at him.

His shoulders rose and fell with his steady breaths as he thumbed through his notebook, mouth in a flat line.

Confusion stung embarrassment to your cheeks. Holding the hot tupperware, you asked, “Are we not eating together?”

He opened the binder and shifted closer to the table, scraping the chair legs across the tile, signifying the end of the conversation. Worse, still, he spoke in what would be a casual tone, if it weren’t for his rejective back facing you. “Actually, I’m trying to finish this,” he said, putting his pencil to the page and continuing the sentence where he left off.

“Oh.. Okay.”

You walked out the room and sat at your desk. Alone. Glaring at the stupid grains of rice and moving them around with your stupid fork and slouching over to rest your stupid cheek on your stupid fist.

Were you really less interesting than whatever he was writing in that notebook of his?

“Maybe I will find a bridge to jump off of,” you concluded, deciding you’d clock out on time in order to preserve your dignity. At least Robin would be home, and she would be honored to hang out with you.

————

An apology of sorts waited for you on your desk the next morning.

Three fresh-picked flowers in a chipped vase with a torn square of lined paper beside it.

     YOURE RIGHT

  I WOULD MISS

     EATING  WITH YOU

IM SORRY

                    -EM

The bud vase was from his home, the paper from his spiral bound notebook, and the dew-coated flowers from Hawkin’s soil–the last of their kind before the season put them to sleep.

Eddie wouldn’t be coming in today; he had the day off to take Adrie to the dentist. So, he woke up early to leave this peace offering when he could be sleeping in.

You set your elbows on you desk, and laced your fingers to rest your chin atop them, taking in the finer details of the periwinkle blue asters. After a moment, you traced your knuckle along your grin, and nibbled at the skin.

“So silly.”

————

And the morning after that, Eddie strayed from his bee line for coffee to approach you with a familiar meek posture; head lowered in deference, and a pouty expression of remorse on his lips.

The glass candy dish shined like a chest of golden coins awaiting him.

He folded his forearms on the ledge, and picked one of the butterscotch candies on top, pulling either end of the wrapper to unfurl it until the lustrous surface of the sweet flashed under the lobby’s lights.

You sank into your chair and watched him sweep his gaze across your desk in search of the flowers, and after not seeing them, he popped the candy in his mouth, and mumbled, “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Flitting your focus back and forth between his big eyes, you peered into each one, drawing out the moment by clicking your pen in thought, forcing him to sweat and fiddle with his wrapper in the echoey room. “Hmm..” You crossed your legs and shined your fingernails on your shirt, inspecting them.

His mouth twitched into a slight smile, favoring the side with his dimple.

Tipping his head so he was looking at you from under his lashes, he begged, “Come on, haven’t I groveled enough for you to have lunch with me later?” Bravery swelled his chest, jerked his chin in a smug nod once he had your attention. “Got you flowers and everything.”

You locked eyes with him for one, entire, sweet second, in which he winked at you.

Interestingly enough, you remembered you had paperwork to grab from Mr. Moore’s office, and rushed out sloppy sentences as you went, laying the sarcasm on thick to disguise the hitch in your throat, “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll have lunch with you if it’s that important to your livelihood, since you can’t live without me, or whatever.” You closed the office door behind you.

God, your face had never burned so hot.

~~~

And it was that night, when Eddie was alone with himself, he thought of the morning smiles through the glass window, and the afternoon laughs shared at the lunch table. The way you sat next to him and he moved his feet outward, spreading his legs to occupy as much space as possible. And he thought about how you accommodated him. Nudging his knee at first to test the waters, and when he responded by closing the distance between your shoe and his, you leaned towards him at the height of the story you were telling, and the length of your thigh pressed against him in a satisfying squish. He wasn’t entirely sure it was on purpose, but with the state he was in, it mattered not.

Eddie fluttered his eyes closed from blinking lazily at the shower head, stroking away the fleeting guilt of wondering if he should be testing his boundaries by thinking about you while doing this, even as his lips parted with silence, and his stomach tensed from pleasure.

Even as he held his shaky breath to keep himself mute, and his hand moved with renewed swiftness from his release mixing with his spit, and he watched the mess gather in his palm before washing it down the drain, he convinced himself.

This was so casual.

————

Saturday you went to the grocery store–AKA, hell day in hell land. You only needed a few ingredients, and figured getting out of the house for a while was better than calling Robin and asking her to pick them up for you.

However, life mocked you. After a heart-racing encounter with a truck narrowly missing you on the highway, you slowed to an agonizing stop every few feet from people blockading the aisles, taking their sweet time to decide what type of oil they wanted, when you could’ve snatched the one you needed, and moved on if they–would–just–move–a–freakin’–inch.

Least to say, by the time you made it to the baking aisle, you were mentally over it, and yet..

The cocoa powder was on the top shelf, taunting you by sight, just out of reach.

You huffed.

Rising onto your tiptoes, you employed your entire wingspan into clawing for it–tasting victory with your fingertips–but not enough to grasp the slippery plastic.

And of course no one else on the aisle was taller than you. They were hunched over walking canes, and clutching their layers of cardigans over their chests.

And of course, as you were stepping onto the bottom shelf for leverage, and becoming intimate with the bags of flour you inadvertently shoved your face into, your worst nightmare loomed behind you.

You knew it was Eddie before he spoke. You knew his gait, his smell, the sound of his laugh when he kept it in his chest. You knew his radiating warmth, his soft grunt, the way he took a sharper breath and held it for a beat before releasing it as a teasing remark. You knew the magnitude of his presence even when he was being demure. How respectful he was to invite himself into your personal space without crossing a line, squeezing his firm hand on the meat of your shoulder to let you know he was there, and heeding a modest gap between your bodies as his unbuttoned shirt brushed your sides.

He backed away half a step, and waited until you were turned around in the crowded space of him and the metal shelves to wave the tub above your head. The rings decorating his fingers glinted as he boasted, “Shucks, looks like it’s the last one too.”

You held your palm up and dropped your head to the side. “Are you gonna make me jump for it like Adrie, or are you gonna be a grown up and give it to me?”

“Give it to you? Maybe I need” –He read the label– “Cocoa powder.”

“You so do not.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied, lifting his chin at your bored expression. “If you want it..” He shifted his stance and sank into his hip, curling his bottom lip over his smirk as he peered down at you, prolonging your misery instead of just finishing his sentence. “..You can use the magic words.”

What an infuriating immovable object. Blocking everything in your view that wasn’t his red flannel thrown over a wrinkled white tee, and his rebellious hair eclipsing the fluorescent lights.

Just the worst person to rescue you from your predicament. Standing so close you could scrutinize the permanent five-o-clock shadow on his upper lip, and the wispy curls composing his sideburns.

So annoying how his hair reached the shadow of his clavicle, where a chain link necklace showed beneath his shirt, and the tendons in his neck stretched an alluring contour from the hollow of his throat to the underside of his square jaw.

His shoulders shook with a quelled snicker. “Come on,” he sang with an infuriating timbre, swaying the cocoa above you.

You met his steeped tea eyes, and insisted in a warm honey tone, “Please stop being a dickhead, and thank you for not being an asshole and handing over the cocoa.. Fucker.”

Eddie’s face cracked into the biggest grin. Beside you, a blushing grandmother shot you a scathing glare, and grabbed a bag of sugar from the shelf before tsking and walking off.

Bestowing you the tub in your hand, he wrapped his palm over top of it and didn’t let go as he bent to you. “Hey now,” he said in a lower register, voice cracking on the consonants from the remnants of his laugh, “no bad words in front of my kid. Or the elderly. Show some respect.”

You perked up. All transgressions in regards to baking ingredients were forgotten when you spotted his daughter sitting cross legged inside the shopping cart behind him. “Adrie!” You pushed Eddie out of the way, and wrapped her in a tender, heartwarming hug.

“Miss Mouse!” she cheered in equal enthusiasm, dropping the box of cereal she was reading aloud to lock her arms around your neck.

You giggled at the giddy feeling soaring in your chest, and encouraged her, “Yeah, I’m Miss Mouse.” The clunky braids Eddie put in her hair smashed against your cheek as you held each other tighter.

Taking inventory of the sparse groceries she was amongst, you spotted a pattern. “You like pasta, huh?” It was an easy guess considering there were three bags of noodles with two large jars of sauce standing out from the rice dinners and a few cans of soup. Practically a replica of the receipt you found in his pocket. But she corrected you.

“No. Daddy’s just bad at cooking.”

Your eyes bulged, and you pursed your lips to refrain from bursting out in impolite laughter. Standing up straight, you combed a few stray curls behind her ear, and whispered, “Geez, kids are ruthless.”

Eddie shifted his weight to his other foot, and gestured at the groceries with a pencil before striking out something on the short list he had written one on a pad of paper. “Eh, Wayne’s the chef of the family. She knows what she’s getting when it’s my turn to cook.”

You hummed at the new information, and went to pick your hand basket off the floor when something caught your eye–and it definitely wasn’t the leather loafers on the old man shuffling past you.

Eddie, obviously, wasn’t dressed in coveralls.

His black tennis shoes were nearly identical to the white ones he wore on Halloween, with the floppy tongues out against his light-wash blue jeans. (Very, very nice fitted jeans with holes in the knees, and a rip stretching wider across the curve of his thigh.) Dragging your gaze up, you clocked the interesting belt buckle he wore on your way to admire the soft outline of his stomach pressed against his shirt. He moved his flannel aside to stuff his shopping list in his pocket–struggling due to how tight his pants were–and incidentally showed off a smidgen of skin above the waistband of his plaid boxers.

Just a hint of skin marked with the bottom lines of a larger tattoo and you were salivating–

A loud intercom announcement sang a jingle about tortillas, and you were reminded of where you were, and where Eddie was, a few feet away from you, well aware of the places your gaze stalled before landing on his smirk.

He caught you checking him out.

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Find everything you were looking for?”

“I, uh–” you stuttered two words out before your brain threatened you to shut the fuck up. As an alternative, you snapped into finger guns aimed in the opposite direction, and made up an excuse. “I forgot to get.. something.”

“Forgot what?”

You blinked. “Milk.”

“Milk, huh?”

“Yep.. Milk.” Sweating under the heat of his narrowed eyes, you made yourself scarce. “Welp. Hope to never see you outside of work again, because this was we-ird,” you enunciated in lilt as you strutted away. But just as you were about to disappear around the corner, you stopped, and said, “Adrie, however, I’d love to see you any day of the week.”

She turned in the shopping cart and waved. “Bye, Miss Mouse.” Eddie was too busy watching you make a fool of yourself to correct her, letting the nickname stick.

Rounding the end cap display of premature Christmas themed candies and bakeware, you held your gaze steadfast ahead as you passed by someone not-so-inconspicuously trying to blend in with the background, wearing a red managerial vest, and holding a clipboard over their mouth.

Robin lowered the employee break schedule, and whispered rather loudly, “He’s so in love with you.”

You groaned. “Can you not spy on us?”

She sweetened you up, “Seriously, he was totally checking you out when you bent over.”

You turned down an aisle and felt her hot on your heels. Yielding in front of the boxes of chamomile tea, you examined one, and asked with an air of disinterest as if you were inquiring about the weather, “Was he now?”

Screwing her face up, she nodded empathically, “Majorly.”

“Good, because I want to crawl in a hole and die.”

~~~

Six feet under seemed like a better fate than what you were dealt.

Though you gave it your best effort, meandering about until enough time had elapsed that you figured he’d left by now, you made your way to the front of the store, and stopped. Eddie had the end of his cart angled towards the registers. Adrie held a package of cookies out for him to approve of, and in a depressing moment of realization, you watched him revert to the person you met him as.

The playfulness was gone. His face was cast with the exhaustion of being around strangers for too long. His lips were bitten raw. His chest sank with a long exhale, and his stomach caved as he looked at his daughter asking for something the other parents around him could throw in their cart without a second thought, and he had to disappoint her.

He didn’t say ‘no’ exactly, but the nervousness of doing so was there. “They’re not on the list,” he begged her in a defeated whisper to understand and not make a scene. He couldn’t handle a scene.

Not yet five-years-old and she sensed his stress and put them back.

“Hey, cutie.” You didn’t know you spoke until Eddie jerked his head up, and you witnessed the change in his mood wash over him. Turned on a dime. He grinned at you in genuine relief, and in a bout of awkwardness, you smiled at Adrie in particular to imply your initial greeting was for her. Not that he wasn’t cute, too. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

He pushed his cart forward, taking the next spot in line, and peered into your hand basket, assessing the Reese’s Pieces, baking goods, tea, and distinct lack of one item. “Hmm, got lost on your way to the milk, huh? Or did you need someone to reach it for you?” He placed his gallon of milk on the conveyor belt first for emphasis. You rolled your eyes.

The two of you must’ve appeared cozier than you gave off, because the cashier motioned at you–specifically, he pointed from Eddie’s groceries to yours. “You two together?”

Eddie froze. Just a useless doe-eyed deer in headlights. You, on the other hand, swallowed your spit before you choked on it, and realized what he meant.

“No, no, separate,” you answered, taking a plastic divider from him and putting it after Eddie’s bag of red delicious apples and before Robin’s dad’s tea.

You stifled your giggle as your beloved coworker fumbled into action after the exchange dawned on him. Bouncing between bagging his groceries, finding the cereal box for Adrie so she could finish tracing the maze on the back, and wiggling his wallet out of his back pocket. The chain attached to it clinked as he rifled through the papers in the biggest slot. They didn’t fit quite right like proper money would. They didn’t look quite right, either. Printed in muted red, purple, green, and blue like Monopoly money. Big text on the front with a picture of the Liberty Bell. Large numbers in the corner with fine print beside it.

Food stamps.

They were food stamps, and it was the middle of the month, and he didn’t have many left.

He counted two of them out, and hesitated, choosing to add a few dollars to meet the total, and handed them over.

Eddie had no reason to feel embarrassed. This was his life. This was how he fed his daughter. But still, he snuck a glance at you, and you looked away so he didn’t think you were staring, even though you were. You were. Not from a place of judgment, but of natural curiosity. Unfortunately, as you directed your gaze elsewhere, you noticed other people around you weren’t as gracious. Eyeing Eddie with cruelty behind their study of the town freak coming inside their territory and depending on their honest wealth to pay for his food.

He’d only begun to stop chewing on his lips when he left the store. Exiting swiftly to begin the process of calming his anxiety as he loaded his car with groceries, knowing he had meals to eat, even if the price he paid stung his ego.

You went through the motions of bagging your groceries in your backpack, and listened to your gut.

Outside, you unchained your bike and put your bag in the wire basket attached to the handles, squinting in the noonday sun as you walked it to the back of the parking lot where Eddie was placing the plastic bags into the trunk of his car. No one parked on either side of him. Not a notable thing, but with how the store was packed, it stood out.

Eddie heard your wheel spokes click as you neared, and schooled the indications of worse emotions from his face to keep you from prying, but he frowned anyway when you passed him to talk to his daughter instead.

The rear door on the passenger’s side was propped open. You flapped your hand at her to get her attention, and she stretched her arm out as far as her car seat allowed in effort to link your fingers. “See you later, girlie,” you said, squeezing her hand in lieu of a proper hug. “Be good for your dad, alright?”

“I’m always good,” she responded, giving you an assured nod of angelic innocence. Eddie barked a laugh, and closed the trunk.

“You can’t swindle her,” he told Adrie. “She knows all about the fit you threw the other morning when I wouldn’t let you bring your stuffed animals to school.” She cut him a sassy glare at being called out.

“Don’t listen to him,” you consoled her. “You’re perfect.” She beamed at you, and you paralleled her delight as you let go of her to smack Eddie’s hand away from your ribs. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get going. Gotta get this milk in the fridge, y’know.”

You stole a coy look at him reveling in what you hoped wouldn’t become a running joke, and steered your bike away, saying another final goodbye to Adrie.

“Not gonna say goodbye to me?” he asked with an aching amount of pitifulness.

“Ch’yeah.” You swung your leg over the frame, put your feet to the pedals. Ensuring you were a decent distance apart, you called out, “You’re right! I should respect my elders.” You waved and shouted at him pointedly, “Farewell, Eddie!”

He fixed his lazy grin on his daughter, who was laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever witnessed, and told her with utmost fondness, “Saw that one coming from a mile away.”

————

Sunday morning, Adrie threw him for a loop.

“I want Miss Mouse to come to my play,” she said, spearing the scrambled eggs on her plate with the tines of her plastic Little Mermaid themed fork. “Can you invite her for me?”

Eddie went rigid. The triangle shaped extras from her pancakes being cut into stars flopped off his fork, paused mid-air on the way to his already stuffed mouth. He chewed slowly. Methodically. Swallowing the syrupy sweetness coating his tongue, biding his time as he hunched deeper over his plate, and stared her down while his uncle took special interest in her request.

Wayne wasn’t able to make it this year, and Adrie was quick to think of a suitable replacement.

With a voice scratchy from cigarettes, he directed his question at his nephew, “Miss Mouse?”

Eddie shut him down with a diplomatic answer without breaking eye contact with his daughter. “Adrie’s nickname for the receptionist at work.”

“Oh! The one who did the costume, and went trick-or-treating with you.”

He sounded much too happy, much too chipper for Eddie’s liking, and when he withdrew his gaze from Adrie to pin it on Wayne, the sharp rush of annoyance at the twinkle in his uncle’s eye manifested in a low, tempered correction for him to drop it. “My coworker from the auto shop, where I’m lucky to have the job that I do.”

Wayne wasn’t having it. He leaned in, and matched his intensity, loading his words with a much deeper meaning than the type of conversation they could have in front of Adrie. He spoke to him man-to-man. “The receptionist who is nice to you and Adrie, and, understandably, is being asked to go to a small event at her school.”

“I know what she’s asking,” Eddie replied from behind his hand. “Stop acting like you don’t.”

“Daddy, please,” Adrie begged, kicking his shin under the table. Eddie inhaled sharply and scooted away.

Wayne looked at him.

Adrie looked at him.

His rules, convictions, and morals of the workplace looked at him, rising as a tense pressure in his chest. Eddie sighed them out.

He was weak.

————

Sunday night, you and Robin were up to your usual bullshit.

Stress baking, and stress baking.

Her house was dimmed to only the small lights above the stove and sink, painting the room in an intimate mood of warmth bouncing off the smoky haze clouding the cramped space from the counter where you transferred a tray of hot cookies to a cooling rack, and she swayed behind you to the sultry Cher record spinning in the distance, seeming far away with her deep vocals melding into loops in your sleepy highs.

“Eddie’s beyond in love with you,” Robin said for the hundredth time, probably.

“He is not,” you argued for the hundredth time, probably. “Can you get me a bag for these?” The double chocolate cookies with Reese’s Pieces on top were ready to be put away to make room for the oatmeal ones.

“I just don’t get why you think he doesn’t like you–Oops.” While reaching for the ziploc bags from the top of the refrigerator, she accidentally knocked down a piece of artwork hanging on the door. She tossed you the box and picked the magnet up, along with the drawing of a mouse, owl, and bat off the floor, and put them back into place. “I mean, the way he looks at you every time you speak..” she trailed off in a wistful, airy breath. “So romantic.”

You answered her dreamy grin with a melancholic shrug of your own. “Yeah, but you don’t see all the other times he looks at me.”

Robin persevered. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.. He’s really–” You struggled for a word, interrupted by the sound of roiling bubbles behind you. “He’s really confusing.”

Exhaling at the ceiling, she asked, “Confusing how? Seems pretty clear to me.”

You groaned. Robin jabbed her elbow into your arm and offered you the bong, and when you showed her your greasy fingers, she turned it around and held it to your lips, lighting it for you until your lungs ached from a full inhale and you gave her a thumbs up to pull the stem.

Different place, same old bullshit. Smoking the last of your combined stash of weed you moved here with while bitching about life. It was hardly the first bowl of the night–or even the third–and the sentences you were trying to string together lulled into the drowsy dregs at the back of your mind.

You dropped your head back and sighed the smoke out. “He gets weird sometimes.”

“He’s always been weird.”

Shaking your head at her, you shifted the tone of the night to a somber one. Serious. Reflective.

Rolling the sugar cookie dough into balls, you recounted Eddie’s most recent rejection. “Last week I was telling him how we were hoping to move out soon, and he was giving off signals and asking questions like it was leading somewhere, but then I ran my stupid mouth, and it’s like he flipped a switch. He just stopped talking to me for the rest of the day.”

She put the bong down on the counter next to the tiny vase holding three flowers, and crossed her arms. “Ran your mouth how?”

You groaned louder into the hot wave of heat fanning your face from opening the oven door. “The dude will seriously flirt with me from clock in to clock out, but I–I dunno. I think I lay it on too thick, and it freaks him out. Like suddenly he realizes I’m serious, and he’s not into it. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened last week, anyway. We were going back and forth listing the pros of me living closer to work, and the cons of you eventually moving in with Vickie, and I kinda made a pass at him..”

“A pass how?”

You drew your brows in, and blinked your droopy eyes in a concentrated effort to recall the conversation. “..To be honest, I can’t remember. It was along the lines of me hinting that I’d want a second date with him. Which I only said because he seemed interested after I told him we were staying in Hawkins, but whatever. Guess I read it wrong.”

Perhaps too astute, your best friend in the entire world navigated your love life with undue keenness in spite of how blitzed you two were, breaking into dumb giggle fits at, quite literally, you dropping a spoon. “How obvious was this hint of yours?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You waved off the notion before you could grow attached to it. “We’re still coworkers, so I need to dial it back, regardless.”

“I think you should dial it up.”

“If I dialed it any more up, I’d get an HR complaint.”

“You don’t have HR,” she reminded you.

Squinting, you paused mixing the chocolate chips into the next batch of cookies. “I think I am HR?”

You handed her the pyrex bowl since it was her turn to roll them into cookies, and as she snacked on the raw dough, you filled the ziploc bag with more treats, stuffing it full.

Cher sang about starting over and finding love again.

The drawing on the fridge was in your periphery, as was the vase. Reminders of how kind, and gentle, and sweet Eddie and his daughter were. You were bound to misread his flirtations, but there was no harm in matching them, right? As long as you didn’t cross any lines, yeah? Just followed his lead and stopped when he made it clear it wasn’t welcomed.

Yeah.

Dialed back. You could do dialed back.

————

This was new.

It was early afternoon when you closed the manila folder of invoices, and directed your attention to Eddie, who, for the first time, imposed himself on your side of the desk.

He acted brave when he was timid. A blatant facade, still hesitant to commit to crossing the threshold past the invisible line where your desk ended and the hallway began. Made himself smaller by leaning on the wall behind you, giving you room to leave if you wanted. Not yet courageous enough to take his hand away from playing with the ends of his hair over his rosy cheeks. “So–um–Adrie’s class is putting together a Thanksgiving play, and she requested your attendance by name,” he finished with an adorable pout of your moniker, “Miss Mouse.”

You sat up straighter with lifted brows.

Thinking he was doing you a favor, he dropped the formalities, and gave you an out–a carefully worded out to avoid any cheeky response about your policy, “It’s gonna be a bunch of rambunctious toddlers singing off key, and not remembering their lines. It’s cool if you don’t want to go, I’ll tell her you were busy or somethin’. She’ll understand.”

You gripped the armrests in a burst of enthusiasm. “What? Of course I wanna go! When is it?”

Eddie was unconvinced. He crossed his arms, and bent at the waist to better assess if you knew what you were getting into. “Uh, Wednesday around lunch time–we can be out and back during our break if we hurry–but I’m serious about the little kids being obnoxious part. You don’t have to go.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” It was a rhetorical question he was going to answer, but you knocked the air from his lungs with one simple sentence. “I want to be there for her.”

Warmth bloomed. Spread throughout his body. The things he suppressed. Taking over all at once.

“You said Wednesday around lunch time?” you clarified. He nodded dumbly, a bit distracted. Your grin grew. “Both Mr. Moore and Carl are taking a half-day to start their Holiday early..” you began, and waited for the realization to cross his features.

“So we could just..”

“Lock up, and..”

“Take the rest of the day off too,” Eddie finished with an undertone of pride. He’d have to work extra hard to complete the cars he was working on before then, but the idea was genius. Playing hooky under his boss’ nose like he was a teenager again.

There was perhaps more he wanted to say, but the phone rang.

You answered and kept the exchange short, using your normal speaking voice. “Robin’s dad is being discharged from the hospital today,” you told him after hanging up. “I’m gonna clock out early to help prepare the house for when he gets here.”

Eddie watched you tidy up your desk in preparation to leave, and figured he should get back to work.

Picking up where he left off, he sank into the passenger’s seat of the Ford Taurus outside, and ran a mental checklist of things he still needed to do. Or he tried, rather. He was mostly sitting there daydreaming about potential scenarios, until he saw you come from the breakroom with your jacket in hand, and left out the front door, waving goodbye as you went.

Two dramatic minutes passed.

The quiet warehouse amplified the aural representation of his loneliness.

Eddie frowned. He wasn’t about to attribute the weather to your proximity, but he was certain the temperature in the garage dropped when you weren’t in the office. Or, maybe, he lost the pretty thing distracting him every few minutes, and he had the time to reflect on how badly he wanted a smoke break in the sun to warm him up.

He went inside to get his jacket from the breakroom, and instead of encountering a pack of Camels in his pocket, he grasped an oddly shaped object, and wrangled it out.

bobbie & i made too many

    share with adrie & your uncle!

                      ♡

An array of cookies surprised him. Several flavors, in fact. Some with fun toppings, some plain.

He smiled.

Well. Smiling would be putting it mildly.

Acting on impulse, he (accidentally) crushed the bag to his chest, and made a high-pitched noise of glee in his throat, absolutely smitten. Eddie hadn’t received a sweet gesture like this in years. If ever. Ironically blessed with the allure of being older in high school, he couldn’t distinguish the genuine crushes girls may have had on him from the fake love letters people stuffed in his locker to mess with him. But this? This was sincere. Even if the intention behind the cookies were to pawn them off because you made too many, you still thought of him and Adrie.

Too excited, he opened the bag and went to eat one, but a distinct odor itched his nose–one he was too intimate with to miss.

He held the baggie up and sniffed, then smelled the cookies. Inhaled the acrid scent clinging to the plastic, and nibbled on one of the innocuous looking treats.

He consulted the note again.

share with adrie

You didn’t just give him and his daughter edibles, did you?

————

Wednesday came unannounced. You crossed several days off the calendar in the garage, forgetting to do so with the influx of orders, phone calls, and customers getting in their last minute fixes before the Holiday break. You did what you could. Eddie did what he could. And now, you taped a handwritten sign to the front door and locked it until Monday morning.

Grabbing your backpack, you went to the women’s restroom, and Eddie went to the men’s to change out of your work clothes. After some arguing back and forth through the doors, you made him agree to open them on a countdown, and through your giggles, you shouted, “Three!”

You swung open your door and were instantly disappointed. “Why are you wearing that?”

Eddie made a similar sneer across from you in the hallway, and questioned your sanity, “What in the world are you wearing?”

“It’s adorable, and festive!” You defended yourself by pointing out the scarecrow patch on the chest pocket of your baggy overalls, and how your orange flannel matched the one he was wearing. “Do you not think so, you big gray cloud?”

“Yeah, super cute. You’ll blend right in with the toddlers,” he snarked with much less malice than his words implied, on account of his lopsided grin.

“Big talk coming from the guy dressed like a moody teen.” Sinfully tight black jeans, black boots, black belt sporting a handcuff buckle, black leather jacket, black tee with a graphic of a rattlesnake wrapped around a skull.

It was his first date outfit again. How sweet.

And you didn’t need to be checking out his ass to see the bandana hanging out of his back pocket as he escorted you to his car, but you weren’t complaining about the opportunity. “You should worry about scaring the children with how angry you look.”

He held the employee door open for you, and locked it–then almost tripped on his way to unlock the car door, and hold it open for you too. “Angry?” He glanced from your outfit to his. “Good thing I’m with you, then. We’ll balance each other out, Sunshine.”

“An unlikely pair,” you agreed in good faith. Once he shut your door, and was in the process of walking around to his side, you gawked at the nickname. “Sunshine?”

You snapped your mouth shut as he fell into the driver’s seat, and started the car.

“So,” you drew out to break the silence after he didn’t have the courtesy of turning on the radio to ease the tension of being stuck in a small enclosure together, “red, huh?” The entire interior–every last detail–was custom made in the same bright crimson, from the air vents to the tiniest knobs.

The engine revved with his heavy stamp on the gas. Your stomach flipped. His grin went wicked.

“There weren’t many made in this color,” he said, thrilled to see your fingernails dig into your palms as he peeled out onto the street, and the garage became a miniature in his rearview mirror at a frightening speed, considering you were coming up on an intersection. “I’m lucky I found her used, and she didn’t need much work.”

Petrified as you might be by his reckless driving, you still had it within you to make a sound of disgust. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that refers to their car as a woman.”

“What?” he scoffed. He relaxed one of his hands on his thigh as he lounged back with his head cocked, brazen with his newfound vanity. An arrogant curve to his lips as he interpreted your lingering gaze on his fingers splayed across his leg as being impressed by him, his car, his attitude. The whole package. “You don’t gender your bike?”

Without giving it much consideration, you supposed, “I think my bike is a he.”

“Ha! You ride a man to work every day,” he mumbled after the abrupt laugh.

His smile vanished.

The fact he didn’t mean to say that out loud became very apparent.

The blood drained from his face as quickly as it returned. Splotches of blushy red worked its way up his throat, turning his ears the same color as his beloved car’s interior. Same shade as the traffic light up ahead. Same bawdy hue typically associated with the lustful act his brain suggested before his mouth caught up.

Eddie sat at attention. Swallowed against his pulse as he stepped on the clutch and downshifted gears. The leather strapped steering wheel creaked under his dual vice grip. His chest deflated with a heavy breath, and blinking rapidly at the road, his pounding heart trembled his voice, “Please forget I said that.”

Curled into a ball facing the window–stomach clenched painfully tight from uncontrollable laughter–you muffled yourself with your flannel’s collar, “Never!”

~~~

The rest of the car ride was boring in comparison to the start, but you made it to Adrie’s preschool with only a few more unintentional eruptions of giggles when you remembered Eddie’s horrified face, while he drove in abject misery.

He parked the car, and got out quickly.

“How precious,” you said. The squat brick building had aged pine needles clinging to its shingled roof, and Thanksgiving themed art hanging in its windows.

Opening the entrance door brought the waft of buttery biscuits and grape jelly. Eddie guided you with purpose through the makeshift cafeteria, made snug with four child-sized picnic tables in the middle, and fingerpainted art adorning the navy blue walls. His keyring dangled from his belt, drumming against his jeans as he pivoted into a hallway illuminated by the overcast day outside. Gentle music came from the empty nursery to the left, and to the right was a heavy wooden door that did little to quiet the ruckus beyond it.

He paused. The rectangle window above the door knob streaked the side of his face with warm light from within, countering the nervous energy in his eyes as he took a long moment to look at you. You waited for him to speak, but he decided against it.

“I’m excited,” you offered, just above a whisper, wanting to say anything to help ease the eerie vagueness in his expression.

A muscle in his cheek twitched like he was going to smile, but it came across rather apprehensive.

He turned the knob. You walked inside first. Both of you stood still.

The room was as inviting as it was overwhelming. Bright, decorated, and packed with people. People who were dressed in business casual, and broken off into pairs of two. People who knelt to speak on level with someone who displayed a combination of their distinct features. People who mingled with other adults after the little ones were ushered to the front of the room by the teachers. People who gushed over a topic with their heads together, beaming at a miniature version of themselves dressed in a costume. People who contributed in a joint effort to create life, and the reason they were here today.

Parents.

They were parents.

This was an event for parents.

This was a play for parents to attend to see their child perform, and partake in themed crafts with the implication of going home afterwards to spend the Holidays together.

Eddie watched you realize this.

An older woman gravitated towards you two.

This was very, intensely, happening right now, and you had to navigate the whiplash to the best of your improv abilities.

“Good to see you,” she greeted Eddie first, and he gave a pleasant reply, but she didn’t hear it. Her attention was on you, eyes magnified by her thick glasses, and smiling wider than before. “You brought someone,” she all but gasped, speaking to him, though she was clasping your hand. “I’m Mrs. Teresa. And you are?”

Eddie had a response prepared.

“I’m Adrie’s friend!” you blurted.

He pressed his mouth shut and gave you a sideways glance.

“And, uh,” you continued to dig your grave, “and I work with Eddie. I met Adrie one day, and we really hit it off, haha. Next thing I know I’m trick-or-treating with her, and uh.. now I’m here!” When her expression of anticipation did not wane, you followed up your ramble with your name, and she nodded appreciatively, patting the back of your hand.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said. “We’re starting soon if you’d like to sit.”

She moved on to a non-platonic couple, and collected their kid to the front where a backdrop of an autumnal forest jostled due to the jittery group of children hiding behind it–most notably, the little girl at the edge who peeped her head out, and jumped up and down.

You both waved at Adrie.

Eddie’s hand landed on your mid-back, and he directed you with an appropriate amount of pressure towards the last row of chairs, choosing two in the middle.

“Smooth,” he commented.

“Shut it.” Sneaking an eyeful of the broad man next to you wearing a blazer under his boiled wool overcoat, you scooted your chair closer to Eddie’s. He must’ve had a similar train of thought, because he did the same to get away from the woman next to him, unwittingly making you two cozier than you were at the movies.

Shoulder to shoulder, he kept his hands in his pockets, and your elbow slotted into the crook his arm created when he slouched towards you.

“Are we not friends?” he asked in reference to your introduction.

You assured him, “The best of reluctant friends.”

The impish smile he shared with you dwindled with each set of hypercritical eyes getting their gawk in before one of the teachers turned off the lights.

The room was overcome with darkness. Blackout curtains suppressed daylight from coming through–for naptime, you assumed–and as children do, they squealed. The teachers soothed them with an amused shush, and turned on two lamps, pointing them like spotlights at the backdrop. Your eyes refused to adjust past the faint outline of your leg pressed flush against Eddie’s, (from hip to calf as a result from seeking support in each other,) but that was beside the point. The show began.

Mrs. Teresa sat off to the side and opened a comically large book. She read the first passage aloud with the pages facing the parents, and out came the kids dressed as pilgrims, brandishing their buckle shoes and hats. In another breath, the ones wearing brown shirts and feathers arrived, and you grimaced at the watered down kid-friendly rewrite of history being acted out, interspersed with songs about sharing.

At least Adrie was dancing around as a carrot with other vegetable-clad children, spelling out what part of the cornucopia they were.

Truly, it could’ve been worse.

But it was during a chorus about friendship sung at the top of their lungs, you unbit your tongue, and leaned into Eddie. “So when are they gonna enslave the Natives and steal their land?”

“Pft!”

Several pairs of shoulders in front of you turned to glare at what they assumed was Eddie snickering at their children’s bad singing before sitting forward, surely perturbed.

He knocked the side of his fist on the top of your thigh, and went to scold you.

But the room was dark.

So dark.

And he misjudged how close you sat.

The cold tip of his nose made contact with the cusp of your cheekbone. His stuttered breath caught your jaw. Your arm slipped further into the curve of his body.

He could’ve realized his mistake. He could’ve stopped there. He could’ve apologized for overstepping the coworker code of conduct. He could’ve reminded himself you’d be gone by the end of the summer. He could’ve dialed it back. He could’ve kept it casual. He could’ve backed off, and dropped the silly reprimand altogether. He could’ve done so many things. But he didn’t. He accepted the risk, and committed to it.

He dipped his head until his plump lips discovered the shell of your ear. Every word vibrated on your skin, rippling goosebumps in the wake of his groaned warning, “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Trembly, raspy from keeping his voice low. Hardly hitting the hard consonants with his tongue before he was withdrawing.

The humidity from his exhale remained. It cooled on your skin. In the weak lamplight, you shifted your wide eyes to his, and the knowledge of what transpired reflected in his keen gaze gauging the consequences of his actions.

Stuck in a daze of buzzing endorphins, you had no idea how to interpret what the hell just happened.

Careful, he didn’t dare express an emotion that would give his true self away.

Together, you both redirected the focus to his daughter.

It took another few seconds for either of you to discern the back of his hand resting on your thigh. He took it away, and crossed his legs, establishing some much needed space between you.

~~~

The play ended, and the lights were flipped on. Everyone winced. There was an announcement from one of the teachers about a snack and crafts for the parents who were staying; and without an auto shop to attend to, you and Eddie were able to dote over Adrie instead of being forced back into the intimacy of his car.

He stood up and said he’d be right back. Lucky for Adrie, she bolted for you first, and you wasted no time in scooping her up into a crushing hug, grateful for the distraction.

Overflowing with pride, you channel all your love into lauding Adrie in mushy compliments, rubbing your cheek against hers. “Oh my gosh, you did so good! You were the best carrot I’ve ever seen. I’m downright impressed by your performance, remembering all those lines.” Pulling away, you waggled your eyebrows. “You wanna grow up to be an actor? Have people flock to see you on stage?” Her face brightened in renewed excitement.

“On a stage like Da–?”

Eddie intervened out of nowhere, “You two ladies gonna join me?” You startled an imperceivable amount from his sudden appearance–truly, you didn’t even jump–but it was enough to earn his toothy grin. “I reserved two seats at the Queen’s table for the princess and her esteemed guest for the evening.” He bowed with a swept out arm, showing you the way through the sea of adults.

Queen’s table was certainly a way to sell it.

It was a tiny, tiny thing. There were several of them at the back of the room, seating four children at most–or two adults and a four-year-old–and Adrie chose a blue one with a cartoon turkey decoration in the middle.

Half an ass cheek fit in the chair, the tabletop was at your shins, and your knees were tucked to your chest. You met Eddie’s gaze above Adrie’s head, and rubbed her back while he stroked her hair, running his fingers through the tangles.

You assumed, for the most part, he wanted to ignore what happened earlier as if it never happened, and you followed his lead.

Adrie broke you from your musing. There was commotion surrounding the teachers, and she gasped, flapping her hands when she saw what they were carrying.

A palm-sized pumpkin pie was set before her, along with three spoons.

“I made this fresh this morning,” she informed you as if she were running a bakery. And as head baker, she was in charge of portion sizes. She took one spoon and scooped out a modest amount of pumpkin filling, and not a crumb of graham crust more. That one was for Eddie.

For you? She split the rest of the pie, and gave you your half balanced on your spoon, and dug into her half without giving her dad a second glance.

“Hey,” he whined. “Not fair. I’m the one who raised you. Why does she get more?”

Speaking down to him like it was the most obvious thing ever, she rolled her eyes, and said, “Because girls are better, Daddy.”

You didn’t hide your snort.

“Yeah, Eddie.” You taunted him by waving the spoon before sticking the pie chunk in your mouth. “G–irls sh’are better.”

Chewing on his measly portion, he regarded his princess and her esteemed guest with a similar amount of weakness, and the tension at the corners of his eyes softened. He submitted. “Yeah. Girls are better.”

~~~

After the snack was a craft. In this case, hand turkeys. Paper, crayons, markers, and colored pencils were passed out amongst the tables, and a teacher gave instructions to the kiddos.

You grabbed the cartoon turkey decoration in the middle of the table for reference, and began your masterpiece. Adrie kept it classic, tracing her hand. Eddie did.. whatever he was doing, hunched over to hide his paper from you two for the past ten minutes.

“I made a princess turkey,” Adrie announced. Indeed, her turkey was decked out with a flowy dress and pink pointy hennin. In the background was a cobblestone castle.

You showed her your realistic turkey, hoping to impress her, but she pulled a face.

“Ew, he’s ugly.”

Frowning at your drawing, you compared him to the one on the table centerpiece, and felt bad for all the less-than-beautiful turkeys around the world. “That’s just the way he looks..”

Eddie, happy as a clam, slammed his pencil down and flaunted his drawing. “I turned mine into a dragon.”

Converging with Adrie, she whispered in your ear, and as a unit, you judged his hand turkey, weighing the artistic ability versus the outlandish deviation from the original assignment.

After a heated debate, you cleared your throat for his attention.

You both applauded his efforts with a humbling clap.

~~~

It wasn’t long before Adrie grew bored with coloring, and left to play with her friends. They gathered around a chest by the teacher’s desk, and brought out non-Thankgivingsy costumes. She played dress up in a fairy-unicorn combo, and another girl hopped around in a mermaid outfit, complete with a shimmery tail.

Eddie switched seats, flopping into the middle chair with a grunt. He moved Adrie’s drawing aside and set up shop. Made himself right at home. Really just invaded your area like he owned the place.

“Uhh–” You gaped. “Can you kindly remove your knee from my vicinity? You’re blocking both my drawing and the colored pencils.”

He imposed himself more. Nudging his feet wider for the sole reason of bothering you until you were forced to curl in on yourself in an uncomfortable hunch. Actively ignoring your plea by sketching the finishing touches on his dragon.

Resigning your sneer at the back of his head, you agreed, “All right.” If he wanted to play that game, you would too. You snatched the orange pencil you needed for your turkey’s feathers, and shoved the markers to the far side of the table, outside his reach.

Giving him no time to prepare a counterattack, you looped your arm around his leg to his shin, and hugged his thigh to your chest with your flexed bicep, locking his knee in a sleeper hold any wrestler would be proud of, preventing him from getting up.

Yes, things scattered as you did this. Yes, people rubbernecked. No, you didn’t care, and Eddie didn’t, either.

Well, he cared a little, even if the grumpy persona he donned cracked with each failed frown.

His mouth curled into a grin despite his resistance. “I can’t have the red marker?” The syllables were caught amongst his hissy laugh at your ridiculousness–tip of his tongue to his teeth, voice rich with affection, and eyes squinted from pure adoration–a short question articulated through his mirth, with his chest braced against your arm after accepting the position of your entwined bodies, and another beg for you to understand on his lips. “How am I supposed to outline the fire he’s breathing, huh?”

He furrowed his brows to appear angry, but it was futile. His smile was here to stay. And what a treat it was to get lost in the moment.

At any point he could’ve easily broken from your hold. Hell, you hardly had his leg secured in your embrace after he shook his hair out of his face, and your muscles were rendered to warm jelly. But still, he played along.

You hunkered down and returned to your drawing with his jeans rubbing on the underside of your chin. “I once heard of these magic words you could use to get what you want.. if you ask nicely.” He hummed a disgruntled noise to show his displeasure. Poor him, being beaten at this own game, and served with a dose of his own medicine.

Incredulous, he huffed, “Magic words?” But there was something suspicious about his tone..

Something just not quite right, indeed..

Without looking, you snatched his hand seconds before his mischievous fingers wiggled their way to your ribs. You interlaced an assortment of index, middle, and thumbs in a twist of power, and dragged your gaze away from your artwork to mock him. “So predictable, Eddie.”

“Am I?”

An aware glimmer from how unpredictable he was half an hour ago presented itself as a gorgeous flash of slyness across his eyes, crinkling his crow’s feet at the corners–

The metal feet of Eddie’s abandoned chair scraped along the floor.

You disengaged from each other, cheeks burning with fresh shame.

Mrs. Teresa had a yellow paper folder tucked under her arm. This was not favorable for Adrie on account of her sharp heel-turn when she saw her teacher sit at the table with her preschool assessment opened for her dad to pour over.

You couldn’t read anything from your angle, but it appeared to be a collection of Adrie’s assignments and a progress report with many notes written in the margins.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Mrs. Teresa licked her fingertips, and flipped through the pages, updating him since the last time they did this.

The conversation was about the places Adrie excelled, and where she could improve. In regards to education, she was surpassing where she should be, and she was a quick learner. Kindergarten would be no trouble for her. It was sharing, and social interactions she was struggling with, despite her ability to make friends.

Mrs. Teresa guided Eddie towards a more serious discussion about these concerns by asking him if he told her ‘no’ frequently, and how she reacted when he did. You’d never seen him so nervous. Fidgeting, bouncing, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Stuttering through a weak admission that he has trouble disappointing her.

He was uncomfortable, and you did your due diligence to tune them out. But it was no use.

Surveying the room, your mind was consumed by Eddie once more. For a different reason, and inciting a different emotion.

Parents at the other tables whispered observations about his mannerisms into their partner’s ear. About his disheveledness. His weirdness. His clothes.  His nonconformity. His last name. The whole package.

He was the father to the sweet little girl they invited to birthday parties, but never stayed after dropping her off with a gift? This was the man who never spoke. Never lingered long enough to put the rumors at rest. Never denied them either, so, logically, the gossip about him must be true.

“As you know, Adrie will throw tantrums from time to time when you drop her off,” Mrs. Teresa eased him into the topic. “When she cries, she asks for you, and it’s difficult to calm her down. This is abnormal for how long she’s been enrolled here. Have you been working on those techniques I taught you to help steer her towards more independence?” Her inquiry was kind, and sympathetic. It was valid, but his first instinct was to defend himself.

“I-I, well.” He took a shaky breath, and leaned towards her with his elbow on his thigh to cup his hand around his mouth, and sliding it to wring the back of his neck. “She’s–It’s just, she’s all I have, a-a-and–”

Mrs. Teresa rubbed his shoulder.

Though you were missing context for what Adrie’s teacher was trying to correct him from doing, you wanted to show your support. Lessen his stress. Afterall, the integrity of dialed back crumbled when his lips grazed your ear, and following his lead culminated in you being invited into his daughter’s world, so what’s the worst that could happen if you took a risk and comforted him? ..Besides discovering if David’s Auto Repair had an HR department.

Eddie’s pitch fluctuated as he bounced his leg harder, “When I’m home, I just want to make her happy–and, she’s, she’s–” You placed your hand on his knee, and stroked your thumb over the skin peeking out from the rips in his jeans. His inhale hitched at the sensation.

Without otherwise addressing what you did, he covered your hand with his own, crooked his cold fingertips into the spaces between yours, and parsed his thoughts. Slowed his mind. Ceased his nervous habit of bouncing his leg. Appreciated the gesture, even as the tacky silver spider ring on his pinky taunted you.

“I’ve been better about telling her ‘no’ lately,” he said more clearly. “The tantrums are happening less, and they don’t last as long when she sees I’m not budging. But the other stuff.. I don’t know.”

“Do you still carry her?” she asked, and he avoided eye contact.

“Yeah.”

“She’s almost five. She’s not a baby anymore, dear. It’s best to wean her now before it becomes a bigger problem.”

“I know.”

Mrs. Teresa gave him a motherly pat on his back, and smiled at you–his coworker–and rearranged Adrie’s folder to the bottom of the stack she had, and moved on to another table.

For a while, Eddie twisted the hair at his nape around his finger. Eyes fixated on the crayon box. You waited for him to come around, and when he did, he smiled and squeezed your hand before sliding his clammy palms to his thigh, allowing you to let go of his knee.

His chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “Sorry, was I shaking the table?”

Yes? No? Maybe? You weren’t paying attention to notice. “Yeah, like an earthquake,” you joked.

“My bad,” he said with not a hint of remorse displayed in his delighted expression.

On cue, serving as the perfect interruption to the prolonged stare you gave each other, another autumnal craft was being distributed amongst the parents remaining, and Adrie set her chin on top of where your and her dad’s shoulders touched.

Mrs. Teresa’s advice regarding his codependency went ignored for another day.

Eddie shut his eyes and pressed his temple to Adrie’s, humming contently to himself, cherishing the affection he ached for.

Adrie, on the other hand, gasped when she spied what was on the table, and rang his ears, “Glitter!”

~~~

Thank God Eddie was a safer driver with Adrie in the car; your stomach couldn’t handle another queasy acceleration through a yellow light while you made a concentrated effort to get flakes of gold glitter out of your eyebrows, having no recollection of how they got there.

In her car seat behind you, Adrie regaled you with the plot points of the latest episode of My Little Pony Tales, chirping away happily about the interpersonal relationships between the cartoon horses until Eddie pulled into the alleyway behind the auto shop, and you turned around to say your goodbyes, thanking her for inviting you.

You opened the car door and heard Eddie do the same. You were about to ask him why he was getting out too, when he went up to the employee door and unlocked it for you.

Right, you left your keys in your backpack.

Rationally you knew he wasn’t a mind reader, but you were still sheepish when getting your bike, wheeling it out to stand across from him in what was a dreadful amount of silence.

“So, uh,” he faltered in the same rush of feelings crashing like a wave over the both of you. “Thank you for coming today. I know Adrie appreciated having you there.” He went shy, scratching the back of his head before putting his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about the mess.”

You shrugged at the mention of glue on your sleeve. “It’s whatever. I’m just glad I got to watch her perform.” Dumbass move, bringing up the play when what happened during it influenced every bit of this awkward interaction. You hurried to move past it, “Plus, the pumpkin pie was nice.” And what happened afterwards when we held hands–twice–was nicer.

Jesus Christ.

Reeling in the desire to bolt, you gambled on one last question before going home to scream into your pillow. “Uhm–Can I ask you something?”

“I guess,” he answered with a wary tone.

“Why do people look at you weird?” You motioned at his clothes. “Besides the obvious.”

The deep creases between his brows from years of scrunching his face in a sour expression became more prominent. “There’s a lot of rumors out there about me.. Some are true, some aren’t.”

“Do you want to tell me which ones are true?”

Inside the car, Adrie swayed in her seat, belting a tune neither of you could hear.

“I will some other time, okay?” He flicked his gaze to you, saw the understated kindness of your soft smile, and diverted his attention to the rock he was grinding under his shoe; bashful despite the burden of his reputation affecting the instant sag in his posture. “I will,” he promised again, giving you a curt nod.

You walked your bike up beside him, and bumped his elbow. “Hey, don’t look so glum,” you insisted. “Whatever it is, I’ll still go with you to parent-teacher conferences as Adrie’s best friend so you don’t look so painfully single.”

You threw your head back in a witchy cackle as you hopped on your bike and rode away.

And it was when you were in the familiar territory of woods flocking either side of the dirt road leading to Robin’s house that you gave into the urge, and released an embarrassed, guttural, annoyed groan of one word, scaring the blackbirds in the nearby trees, “Why?”

Single, single, single. Good God, could you be more obvious?

Dialed back was a lost cause from the start.

“Well, whatever happens, happens, I guess.” And you finished it with, “Idiot.”

————

Eddie had been sitting in his car for all of two seconds when he patted the side of his seat for the back recliner, and cranked it until he was almost laid flat.

Driving his hands from his nape and upward, he gathered his hair between his fingers and covered his face, mashing the curly ends over his eyes screwed shut from red-hot shame.

He inhaled deeply, and reprimanded his dumbassery in the loudest groan. “That was so–incredibly–not casual.”

“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Adrie asked, sounding like a therapist as she pinched her sticky fingers together to shift the gold glitter from one to the other.

Composing himself, he finished dragging his palms down his cheeks, and combed away the strands stuck on his eyelashes. He blinked. “It’s nothing.” Nothing at all. He definitely wasn’t thinking of how fucked he was, believing he could handle today without taking things too far.

But it wasn’t how he almost kissed your cheek that bothered him the most, nor the multiple scenarios he supplied in effort to hold your hand, or touch you in general.

No. It was worse.

Staring unfocused at the ceiling, his lips parted with a realization.

His whisper was for himself, and his heart only. “I didn’t even care that people were staring at me today..” The mercy of your presence brought a line of water to his eyes. Not enough to flow over, but enough for him to notice his loneliness.

“Can you invite Miss Mouse to Thanksgiving?”

“No, she has her own Thanksgiving to attend,” he told her, and held his hand out, making a grabby motion at her. She understood and put her shoe in his palm so he could squeeze her ankle. Any affection. Any at all. Giving or receiving.

Knowing the answer, he asked, “You really like her, huh?”

“She’s my favorite.”

“Yeah, she’s my favorite too,” he said, in whatever capacity she meant, he meant it as well. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but he did.

Massaging his thumb and forefinger into circles on his forehead, he meditated on the right thing to do. Meaning, he thought about the hundreds of reasons he should put an end to this, to discourage Adrie’s relationship with you, and to resist the temptation of forming his own; and instead he latched onto the idea of him not appearing single for a little longer than his logical brain was comfortable with.

Coworker, risk, flighty personality, yada, yada..

He snorted. “Yeah, I should probably stop this.”

Adrie rolled her leg in his grasp to get him to let go. “Can we stop at McDonald’s first?”

“Wha–?” After a moment of confusion, he sighed. “Give me a break, kid.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

[millylotus]

Secret Son John Constantine

Inspired by @herbatahleb's funny little fanart

As the title says The Everlasting Trio have a child and his name is John “Hellblazer” Constantine

He’s making his parents proud

John was born of a kind of soul blood pact between the three, he got his blonde hair from Sam, his eyes from Tucker, and his overall appearance is a mix of the three of them

John grew up to follow in Tucker & Sam’s footsteps of magic, he’s a born sorcerer unlike them though

His relationship with his parents is generally good, but because of how he treats his soul his relationship with Danny has deteriorated

They argue about this alot, John’s soul is his own and what he does with it really isn’t any of Danny’s business, Danny has the concerned parent vibes of the parent of a sex worker, their fears are founded but they need to trust their kid to know how to take care of themselves

John hates visiting home because of it, Dani will sometimes drag him back home for holidays but he doesn’t stay long

Sam & Tucker try to get them to get along but it isn’t really working

Then one day Danny gets accidentally summoned by the Justice League

---

John doesn’t recognize the summoning circle as it buzzes to life, he doesn’t know what type of creature or being will pop out. If they’re good or bad, or even merciful but he knows they’re strong from the intricate design or the circle. So he recklessly jumps forward, pushing Hal out of the binding circle so the Lantern isn’t bound to the summoned being.

John takes the binding with a scream of pain, feeling electricity shoot up his spine.

He can hear the Leaguers shouting his name, he’s vaguely aware of Jordan supporting him. But what he hears clearest was the voice of a man he most despised in the world at the moment.

“Really John? You didn’t have to do that, he would have been fine.”

John closes his eyes tight and breaths deep, he looks up to the voice and looks into the toxic green eyes as they met his own brown ones.

“Good to see you too Father.”

The green eyed being rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, “Yes, hello Son. It’s great to see you again as well.”

The League had only heard a few things about John Constantine’s family. They knew he had three parents who’re polyamouros, that he has an older sister and an aunt. Besides that all they have are silent grumblings about “Father won’t like this” when he does something risky.

But to see a young filipino man probably no older than twenty, floating over John “Hellblazer” Constantine and looking down on him like a disappointed parent. It was jarring.

Wonder Woman was the first to say anything “John, could you perhaps explain what just happened?”

John and his father broke their intense eye contact to look at Diana, who barely flinched at the sudden attention, the others behind her weren’t so fearless.

Constantine sighed carefully stepping away from Hal, “This is my Father.”

Hal snorted, “Yeah we got that man.”

“Yes John, introduce me to your friends here.”

---

Danny is generally snarky when meeting the League, he makes some weird comments about John hanging out with superheroes, that could be construed as rude

The others are kinda pestering John about who his dad even is, while John is more focused on getting the fucking bind removed

He eventually has to ask Zatanna for help

Danny for the most part is hanging out with the League while John’s working

Someone calls him Mr.Constantine and Danny quickly corrects them saying that isn’t his last name

Which sparks a whole conversation of John’s last name, which Danny isn’t about to say cause real names have power and such

Danny sees John working closely with Zatanna and asks if he’s with her or not, John is beyond embarrassed and even worse is when Danny brings up King Shark, mentioning that Dani really liked him too

John snarks back that then King Shark should have just gone for her instead of him since Danny was so adamant about King Shark being such a great son-in-law

Things get awkward quick as the two snark back at each other while everyone else realizes where John gets it from

It almost becomes a screaming match before the League has to break it up before they go to far

John ends up just calling Sam & Tucker so they can just break the binding

It’s a tense few minutes before they get there, and the League just kinda has to sit there as father & son fume not looking at each other

When Tucker & Sam get there they see the two not wanting to talk to each other at all

Leaguers are not reeling at seeing John’s other parents who he also vaguely looks like but also not

As the two work on the binding John & Danny are being passive aggressive

The two decide that John & Danny need to spend some time together to get this shit figured out

---

Sam : Alright that’s it *Sam & Tucker stop working, Sam has her head in her hands and Tucker is leaning far back* Danny : What? John : I’m sorry? Tucker : You two have been fighting for far to long, you’ve probably forgotten why Danny : I know exactly why, it’s because John doesn’t know how to treat his soul right! John : By The Ancients! You’re still on about that Danny : Of course! Sam : Will you both just SHUT UP! *Silence* Sam : We’re not breaking the binding, you two are going to stay stuck together Danny : Sammy! John : Mama, Papa. Please don’t do this! Tucker : Nuh-uh, this happening, you two are getting a some father-son bonding time for the week! John *distressed*: Why! You can’t just– it’s not fair! *Sam & Tucker loosen up a bit, looking to John softly* Sam : Baby it’s alright, we’re not trying to punish you we just want you & your father to actually talk things through Danny : It feels like your punishing me Tucker : You are his father, you will be the civil one in this so don’t you fucking dare get any lip *Danny goes silent* Sam *sigh* : We’ll be leaving now Tucker : Good look you two The two leave, then silence Danny : Do you still have that demon house of yours? John *sigh* : Yeah I’ll show you a room for your stay

---

Most of the story is really just about John & Danny learning to get along again

Danny has to finally trust his kid to know what he’s doing with his own body

And John realising that his dad just wants to keep him safe & stuff

By the end of their basically grounding the two have begun to mend their relationship, Danny promises to come over and visit along with inviting John back home to the zone when he feels like

I've been meaning to post this for awhile now & it's just been sitting in my drafts until I finally remembered it.

Hope you liked is! :]

Main Story Index [It's kinda messy but it's got links to most everything]

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #john constantine #background everlasting trio #millywrites

[cottondo]

ALSTOR X READER oneshot ; annoying

Another day in the hazbin hotel, another day of boredom. And what better way to kill the everlasting devastation of being trapped in the underworld? Annoy Alastor.

And truth is, you really liked him.

It was routine at this point, really.

You’d imagine one of these days he would actually snap, and maybe chop you into a million bite sized pieces- - but he hasn’t. So far, anyway. It actually seemed like maybe he deep down enjoyed it? Like there was too much silence, and a little too much boredom, when your pestering wasn’t around.

“Y/N, if I have to ask, ONE more time… to please, stop—”

You’d been clicking the end of your pen for the last five minutes, taking little glances over your book to see how much you could get Alastor’s eye to twitch. Your record number was twice so far, but today you made it to four.

Your figure has been sitting beside him, curled up at the arm of the couch, while he sat on the other side, reading a book as well.

“What? What are you gonna do?” Your smirk increases, and you speak in a mocking tone.

Alastor’s hand grabs yours, gripping tightly around the fingers that held the pen. You pause, eyes widening down at it.

“I’ll make you stop.” His voice takes on a glitching radio effect, voice volume increasing to put on the very real bit of agitation you finally caused him. The redness in his eyes glow, and glitching in the realm of your reality seemed to fracture for a moment; His smile never left, though.

“Ha— oh please,” you scoff at him, rolling your eyes away. “You love it.”

His demon powers never scared you. Well, okay, maybe a little bit. But, you two were close. Known each other basically for the entire time of being down in hell together. You knew when his breaking point was when it came to other demons, but with you? He lasted a little bit longer.

Alastor hums to himself with a narrow eyed smirk, and releases his hand from yours, brushing himself off. “Why do you insist on causing trouble you don’t need to get into?” He asks.

You shrug, smiling over at him. “Guess I just never learn?”

“That could be one reason.” The radio demon rolls his eyes, smile prominent, turning back to the book in hand.

“Just admit it, Al.” You smirk, clicking the end of the pen once, looking at him. “You’d be so bored without me here.”

You click the pen again. And again. And again.

“I beg to differ,” his eyebrow lowers slightly, and you start to see the twitch in his eye coming back. “There’s plenty of entertainment around- -”

He pauses, looking over to your hand again, to where you hold the pen close to you, smirking and clicking it with the top of your thumb.

“—Do I need to dismember your wrist?” He tilts his head, eyeing you curiously.

You smile smugly right back at him, and shake your head innocently. “No? Why? Is something bothering you?”

That was it. He broke.

Alastor made a static noise, reaching forward, before completely snatching the pen out of your hand, and snapping it in two.

You deadpan him, making a crooked smile. Dammit.

He sighs with content, a bright smile beaming, and sits back down to his spot and holds up the book again. “Oh, whatdya know! It can be fun to have you around!”

Your lip turns to a pout. “You suck.”

__________________________________

This one sucks I’m sorry lmao

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin characters #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x reader

[leaentries]

late nights | nico hischier

summary: soft kisses with nico and his girl

warnings: none (this is insanely sappy)

a/n: sorry if this was too cheesy, i was in a mood

the captain’s girl masterlist

The night was peaceful, inky black coating the once blue sky. The curtains to the balcony were slightly open, letting in a soft breeze. A single lamp on the corner table provided a warm glow to the room.

A soft hue provided by the dim light of the TV flashed over the back wall, behind the couch where you rested, straddled over Nico’s waist comfortably. His hands held your body to his, as if he was scared you’d disappear. Your own tangled themselves in the soft, dark locks at the nape of his neck.

You softly tugged at them, mindlessly occupying your fingers. Nico’s deep brown eyes poured into your own, love dancing around the both of you. Lovesick smiles wore down your mouths. A welcomed silence adorned the apartment, neither of you wanting to disturb the intimate moment.

His chest rose slowly, meeting your hoodie-clad body with every breath. Your nose brushed his as you brought down your forehead to rest on Nico’s. Shutting your eyes, you relished in the bliss that was Nico Hischier. Everything about him was intoxicating. The way he talked, the way he smelled, even the way he would tease you. You could never quite get enough of him.

Not that you’d ever want to.

Loving Nico was the single most greatest privilege you could, or would ever have. Having him like this, body pressed against yours so tightly was a blessing. You were convinced Nico was made just for you.

He loved you, cared for you, but most of all, he understood you. Being able to release every emotion or thought without the worry of being judged was something that came so naturally with him. Loving him was as easy as breathing, and you needed him like you needed air.

You knew you could never love anyone else. Nico occupied your entire heart, mind, and soul. He was your person.

Nico’s nose nudged your cheek gently, pulling you from your thoughts. It was almost scary how easily he consumed you.

You opened your eyes, looking into his warm awaiting ones. He flickered down to your lips, silently signaling what he wanted. An amused smile found home on your face, before leaning in to slot your mouths together softly.

Nico kissed back immediately, quietly humming in satisfaction.

Although Nico was your everything, it could be argued you meant more to him. His entire world spun for you, and without you he wouldn’t exist. You were the sun, being able to brighten his life by just simply being. He would fall in love with you a million times over if he could. He would choose you in every lifetime.

He never understood what it was like to be able to bare your soul to someone until you. Nico honestly didn’t know if he could survive you, but his heart was having a hell of a time doing it. You took over every aspect of his life in the best way, Nico finding pieces of you in everything he did. There was something so beautiful, so everlasting about the way he loved you. The expanse his heart goes for you is infinite.

His love for you is infinite.

Your lips moved against his in a soft rage. The warmth of his lips spread from your head to your toes, igniting a wonderful dull flame in your belly. His face chased yours every time you slightly moved, not wanting to lose the tingling sensation you brought to him.

You swallowed every sigh that left his throat, drinking him up like he was the last drop of water. He was addictive, and you were hooked.

Eventually, you pulled away to regain your breath. Nico’s chest heaved slightly, matching you. His lips were red and swollen, his face stuck in a blissed-out daze. No doubt you looked the same. He brought a hand up to your jaw, pulling your head back to him.

If Nico was water then you hoped you didn’t know how to swim because, oh, how you wanted to drown in him.

#the captain’s girl au! #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fluff #nh13 #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

[ovaryacted]

TOUCH

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x gn!reader

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. Slight NSFW at the end! Kissing. Light Handjob. Just Leon craving your touch because he's a needy softie and he gets clingy.

WC: 1.1k

NOTES: Just a little drabble I worked on at 3 am for absolutely no reason lol. A little inspired by this one post made by @wherenymphsroam that got me thinking about this particular interaction and I wanted to build off on it a bit. I also didn't think of a specific version of Leon, so insert whichever one your heart desires!

Leon is cute when he’s needy, his constant affection a sign of his intensely growing attachment to you. He always needs to touch you, always needs to be near you, both as a form of reassurance and out of habit.

He’d hold your hand whenever he could, especially when participating in the domestic duties that came with being in a relationship, like grocery shopping or heading down to that cafe two blocks down from his place. He liked to gently rub his thumb over your hand, making sure your fingers were intertwined together, and sometimes absentmindedly kissed your knuckles and palm. Something about your hands brought him a sense of comfort that’s convinced him he couldn’t live without feeling them in any capacity.

In reality, Leon is just addicted to you, it’s that simple. You filled all of his senses completely, each in their regard a sign of his everlasting devotion to you and only you. You never complained, knowing that your boyfriend would rather show you his wants and needs over vocalizing them.

When he gets handsy it doesn’t take you by surprise anymore. If he didn’t find you in his bed in the morning, he knows you’d probably be in the kitchen drinking your coffee at the start of your day. He’d come up groggily behind you, head full of bed hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his face into your neck. Placing soft kisses against your skin, you’d merely hum at him, realizing how touching you seemed to be part of his daily routine.

He’s a cuddler, enjoying being in your arms and resting with you when you both have the time to indulge. You don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he loves it when you run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp, his chest rumbling out a deep sigh as his head rested on your chest.

You also noticed how he was rather fond of your chest as a whole, using it as a personal stress ball or a pillow, same with your ass. Wearing a T-shirt in the apartment? He’d slip a hand underneath it just to give you a squeeze or rub. If you wore shorts or any baggy pants, he’d simply squeeze at your behind whenever he could, providing a soft pat when he walked by you.

There wasn’t a time of day where you didn’t find Leon touching you. The consistency of his behavior only warmed your heart more, knowing that if he ever stopped touching you there was something seriously wrong.

But what you loved most was just how pathetic Leon could get when he was desperate for your touch. It would always start the same, with you feeling his presence against your back. He’d start to kiss at any visible skin he could reach, breathing in your scent from behind your ear. You didn’t have to verbally ask him what had gotten into him, you already knew, but you still liked to tease him anyway.

“You need something?”, he’d hear you say, in that same tantalizing voice that would only make his dick throb. With a hum, Leon would softly bite your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at the touch.

“Need you”, it never amazed you how his voice would betray him so quickly, dropping an octave and raspier than before. It always lit the fire deep in your gut when you heard him like that.

You turned around to face him, looking into his eyes and noticing the growing blush on his cheeks. He took your hand in his, placing it on the growing bulge in his sweatpants and exhaling when he felt your touch.

“How long have you been like this?”, a silly question really, fully aware that all it took from you was a glance for Leon to get hard.

“A while. I was just thinking about you”, he muttered, hips pressing into your palm to gain more friction.

“You’re always thinking about me”

“Yeah, and I never hear you complaining”, he said, making you roll your eyes at the grin he had on his face.

You palmed Leon’s hardening cock through his sweats and took a glimpse at his pretty face. His eyes were already growing hazy, nostrils flaring out the slightest bit and biting at his bottom lip the more persistent your groping became. God, you could stare at him for hours whenever he got in the mood, just watching over every reaction he gave you with hungry eyes.

“Always need me to touch you, right?”, you moved closer to him then, one hand on his chest, and the other moving to trace the drawstring of his pants.

“All the damn time”, Leon nodded dumbly, taking your hips into his hands and squeezing gently, moving down to your ass and beginning to knead. You could only call his actions endearing, wanting to be touched so much that he didn’t know what to do with himself when it came to returning it.

Tilting your head up, you kissed him, holding on to the back of his neck and hearing him moan in your mouth. His growing need for you was evident in the way he kissed, eager for more and not satisfied until he felt your tongue against his. You pulled away too soon for his liking, forcing himself to swallow the whimper that settled in his throat.

You smirked at him, sneaking your hand underneath the waistband of his sweats to grasp his length fully, the groan he let out causing your underwear to dampen with your growing arousal. This was why you liked having Leon home, where he could go commando and you’d reap the benefits.

Pumping him slowly, you left kisses on his neck, soft and gentle in contrast to the intense way you made him feel. Leon threw his head back a bit, letting your lips graze over his pulse point and bite, his large hands clutching at your body to ground himself.

“Wanna feel you baby”, you whispered to him in his ear, your tone making his cock pulse in your hand, desperate for more attention.

“Please…”, he said, pulling his head back to look at you once more.

He kissed you again, walking you clumsily until your back was pinned to the kitchen counter behind you. You could feel your lips curl up in a smile as the blonde kissed you greedily, knowing that you had him wrapped around your finger. Not that Leon had any gripes about that, there was no other place he’d rather be than to the mercy of your touch. That’s where he belonged, and that’s where he’ll stay for as long as you’d let him.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil drabble #resident evil fanfic #resident evil leon kennedy #leon kennedy #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

[sukunasweetheart]

the urge to throw trueform sukuna into the shoujo manga genre....

(fem!reader, sexual undertones towards the end)

it would be so funny yet so beautiful...i also think he would look so great in that flowery, feminine kind of artstyle <3-

in terms of cliche shoujo love interest, he's a lonely immortal god who is against everything that supports the notion of love... until he experiences what true love is like, for himself. you're his little servant toy that he mingles with for some time, until he realises something's wrong with his heart...

i love him for what he is, but wouldnt it also be lovely to see him in a softhearted story?? the almighty and powerful, but grows weak in the knees all because of one woman!

one day, imagine if he, the most renowned selfish man, with complete disregard for others, who had always valued himself vastly more than anyone else, comes to a point where he sees you in the way of an unstoppable attack from the wrath of an enemy, and rushes in to tank the would-have-been-fatal strike in your stead...

it happened in an instant. he didnt even realise he was moving until he had already been hit. he's bleeding for the first time in a thousand years. he's hit, and it should hurt, it should feel unpleasant, because he certainly wasnt planning to be hit, nor did he engage in this fight for his own pleasure, but for your protection.

yet, he feels relieved. you're tucked behind him safely, looking up at him with worried eyes, and he feels relieved, all because a weakling like you is alive.

after he sends you away to uraume (who gives you the stink eye), he promptly kills the opponent but becomes a little weakened temporarily afterwards as a result of the powerful attack

he's absolutely grumpy about having to be bedridden for a few days for recovery, often stares down at you with unreadable eyes, like he's in deep contemplation about his own feelings

oh fuck me, he thinks, when he finds himself wanting to comfort you as you're in tears over him, even though he's the one that's hurt.

its a confusing sensation, feeling like shit but also not hating everything about being in the centre of your concerns. look at you, feeling so guilty, so worried sick, fussing over him. as you should. he mulls over the incident where he uncharacteristically jumped in to protect you... but he's not one to over complicate things for too long. he'll just continue to do as he pleases, just like before. and if that involves showing you some affection, kissing you, holding your hand, shielding you from his woes... then so be it. if he's the strongest, if he's a god, shouldn't he also be able to save such a frail thing as you?

he orders for your presence in his bed to keep him entertained, but he doesn't even say a word when you're there laying next to him, he's only just staring at you and giving curt touches, like your body is a plaything to him. maybe palms your thighs and breasts, but it doesn't feel sexual at all.

"it's not so bad, having you in my debt," he suddenly says, as sukuna plays around with a lock of your hair. these new feelings he harbors, intrigues him just as much as they irritate him.

"i do owe you my life..." you tell him in response.

"so you're aware. and? what will you do about it?" he asks you.

"i'm not sure, my lord... what would you like me to do?"

"how sly of you, turning the question back onto me."

he thinks about it for a moment.

"well, i suppose there's nothing you could offer me but yourself," he says as he slowly undoes your robe, the other free hand grabbing your face.

"...and your everlasting devotion, to me."

as he's about to sit up to continue, your tiny hand pushes against his chest in resistance.

"you mustn't exert yourself, your wounds are still healing, my lord," you protest, much to his annoyance.

"cease your fretting. movement of this degree isn't enough to hurt me," sukuna sighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it down against the sheets.

"i... i can do the moving," you tell him with determination, which earns you can amused smile.

"...oh? now that's certainly worth considering," he says, slowly letting go of you.

you carefully get up to straddle the larger man, sitting yourself down on his hips.

"alright then, my brave little devotee. entrance me."

and you do just that for him, all throughout the night. (it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wont be the last)

sukuna learns all about how some fragile things are worth keeping around.

at first, the relationship revolves solely around his own pleasure and satisfaction. but as the ice begins to melt, he sinks into a trap in which he's seeking more and more to keep your own happiness and your beautiful smile in place. he begins to hurt when you're hurting. it was exactly as he feared - his life becoming molded around one singular person who's somehow crawled their way into his heart-- his heart that should've been sealed tight.

at times, when his teasing goes too far, and your bright expressions dissolve into sorrow, his own mood drops considerably and there comes seeping in a crushing feeling in his chest.

he lifts your face up by the chin and says; "i'm only joking. don't make such a pitiful face."

but when he realises that you were merely feigning your hurt, giving him a little cheeky grin, he flies into a quick, but playful anger.

"you little minx. i've spoiled you a little too much haven't i? you're getting ahead of yourself."

he proceeds to lift you up into his arms, an extra hand keeping your wrists together, as he aims to litter his bite marks down your neck and shoulder.

"aah! forgive me, my lord!" you exclaim, writhing around in his tight grip.

but there's an audible giggle in your voice.

Masterlist

tagging; @vagabond-umlaut @yuujispinkhair @satkuna @skunaskitten @sukunastoy @theprettyarachnid @sunshine7queen @gojos-thot-patrol

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #soft sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Let It Snow*

————————————————————————-

Summary: You and Joe have a chill day, playing games and enjoying each other’s company while it snows outside. Of course, though, Joe can't contain himself for too long…

Warnings: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Everlasting Love

————————————————————————-

December 23, 2023

“Joe! It’s snowing!” - you

“Hm.” - Joe mumbled

I had just rolled out of bed to peek out of one of the bedroom windows, suspecting that the extra light seeping through the blinds was because of an all-white climate.

Joe was lying on his stomach still in bed, not exactly caring about the snow as much as you. 

“Get back in bed.” - Joe

Something about his husky morning voice had me immediately obeying, and I crawled back into bed next to my boyfriend.

“Tired from last night?” - you grinned

“You mean my full-body workout? Yes.” - Joe

“It was so good, though.” - you

“Trynna get me goin’?” - Joe

“No…” - you giggled

Joe rolled over onto his back, the sheet falling in the process showcasing his semi-erect cock.

I heard him mumble a curse before pulling the sheet back up to cover his manhood.

“Want me to take care of that?” - you grinned

“I don't want you to feel pressured to…” - Joe

Leaning forward to place a hand on his chest, I leaned my face close to his but didn't exactly meet his lips.

“You know I can't get enough of you, baby. Fuck me? Please?” - you

Joe sat and stared at me for a second, feeling his cock get even harder at my request.

“Joey, I want you inside me.” - you

Those gorgeous blue eyes darkened to a color only of the depths of the ocean. Slowly and sensually Joe smashed his lips onto mine.

I let one hand wander under the sheet where I firmly wrapped my hand around Joe’s length. He immediately moaned into the kiss and dropped a hand down himself to slip under my t-shirt.

With my hand pumping him with no restraint, Joe now moving two thick fingers inside me, our hands moved in tandem, and we were both getting closer to release.

“Ho-ly shit…” - Jow grunted into the kiss

“Joey, fuck!” - you

A minute later, there was pearly precum on Joe’s tip and I desperately wanted a taste. Breaking away from the kiss and letting go of his shaft, Joe looked at me confused, but soon he'd be watching me suck his essence into my mouth.

“I’m close, baby.” - Joe

“Me… too.” - you moaned

Joe moaned when my pace got quicker, and his noises only made me closer.

Not even a minute later, Joe and I were moaning in each other's mouths as we climaxed simultaneously.

I hissed when Joe pulled his fingers out, but his peppering of small kisses on my cheeks while whispering words of praise comforted me.

“You did so good for me, baby. I know you said you wanted me inside you but I promise you'll get it later. Right now let's go get in a shower.” - Joe

I nodded and tried to get out of bed, but my legs, which were still slightly shaking from that intense orgasm, almost gave out on me.

Joe shuffled out of the bed and made his way over to me, picking me up bridal style and carrying me into the bathroom to have a relaxing shower.

——

An hour later, Joe and I were cuddled up on the couch, eating breakfast omelets and watching a Christmas movie that I forced him to watch.

“You really had to pick Home Alone?” - Joe

“It’s a classic!” - you giggled at his glare

“Are you unaware of the comparison between me and Kevin?” - Joe

“Nope. I'm fully aware, but I don't think you look like him.” - you

“Really?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you bit your lip trying not to laugh

“y/n.” - Joe groaned, clearly annoyed

“I’m just kidding. Also, I'm kinda getting bored… what do you wanna do?” - you

I watched Joe pull his phone out and quickly type something with furrowed eyebrows. When he stopped moving his thumbs, he let out a deep sigh.

“Roads are closed, so we're stuck here. Wanna play a board game or something?” - Joe

“You gonna behave when you get beat?” - you

“Who said I'm getting beat?” - Joe

“I did.” - you laughed

Joe rolled his eyes before standing up from the couch and taking our empty plates into the kitchen. He placed them into the sink before heading towards the hallway closet where he kept his games.

After pulling a few things out of the game box, he walked back over to the couch and put them on the coffee table.

“Uno… Clue… Operation… and I have Chutes and Ladders.” - Joe

I picked up the Chutes and Ladders box, laughing as I read over the various text boxes.

“Age 2 to 4?” - you laughed

“For when my nephews are over! It's pretty fun though, sometimes they make me play with them.” - Joe

Looking at his face to see he was serious, I picked up the Clue box and sat it between us.

“We’ve got all day, we can pass some time with this since it takes a while.” - you

“Okay.” - Joe smiles

——

It was a little under an hour later, and Joe and I had finished Clue a little bit ago. Now we were playing Operation.

“Why am I so fucking nervous?” - Joe held the tweezers

I laughed at his comment. His usual calm, cool, and collected attitude faltered over a board game.

“Help him, Joe! He's got a damn pencil in his hand!” - you laughed

“Stop it! You're gonna mess me up!” - Joe

His shaky hands lowered the tweezers, and before he could even come in contact with the object inside, his hand jerked and hit the wall.

Joe jumped back when he got shocked, I know it didn't hurt that bad, so it was probably more of a subconscious reaction.

“Shit!” - Joe

“Aww, c’mere, baby.” - you

I laid down and pulled Joe on top of me, his head finding a comfortable spot between my breasts as I played with his hair.

“That was scary, huh?” - you babied him

“Mhm.” - Joe mumbled and let his eyes flutter shut

“Poor baby.” - you rubbed his back, feeling him immediately relax against you

Pressing little kisses on his forehead as I continued running my fingers through his hair, I watched a little smile form on his lips.

“I don't want you to go.” - Joe mumbled

“Oh, Joey. I don't want to go either. Tomorrow’s my last full day so we have to make it last.” - you

Abruptly, Joe shot up and hopped off the couch.

“Joe, where are you going?” - you

“Hold on!” - Joe

I watched him run up the stairs, a minute later coming back with a box in his hand.

“If you think this is cringe, we don't have to do it, but I bought this…” - Joe

He sat back down on the couch and sat an unopened box on my lap. After reading the box and looking at the picture, I realized that they were Lego flowers.

“Aww, Joe, it’s not cringe at all. I think it's sweet actually. Do you want to build it right now?” - you

My heart warmed when I watched his face light up.

“You want to? Actually?” - Joe

“Yeah.” - you smiled

“Okay.” - Joe smiled back

A few minutes later we had the bags distributed between the two of us and started building.

My back was against the armrest and my legs were draped over Joe’s lap.

This was probably the most content I’d ever felt, just sitting here with my boyfriend as we built Legos.

“Hey, Joe?” - you

“Mhm?” - Joe

“I love you.” - you

“I love you too.” - Joe looked up and gave you a smile

——

I hadn’t had my last bite of dinner fully chewed up when Joe whisked me off of the barstool and ran with me up the stairs.

“Joey! What are you taking me!” - you giggled

“Pound-town.” - Joe singsonged

When we got into the bedroom, Joe tossed me onto the bed and slipped his shirt off over his head.

Joe then took my shirt off of me, which was his, and slipped his hand around my back to take my bra off.

“Fuck… you're so pretty.” - Joe

My chest was bare for him, the only thing left on me being my pants and the ‘J’ necklace adorning my neck.

Taking a peek down at the clothes Joe still had on, I saw that his shorts were already tented.

“Joe, can we just get right to it? I want you so bad…” - you

“Whatever you need.” - Joe smiled

“I need you inside me.” - you whined

“Be more specific, baby. You want my tongue inside you? My fingers?” - Joe

“Your cock, please.” - you

Joe stepped back from the bed, pulling his shorts and boxers down in one go. Then crawled back on top of me.

He gripped the waistband of my leggings and pulled them down my legs before tossing them to the side unceremoniously.

“God, you're soaked.” - Joe groaned

“Boy, stop staring at it and get inside it.” - you

Seemingly within seconds, Joe lined himself up and trusted his entire length inside.

I immediately moaned and reached for his waist, trying to slow down his torturous pace.

“No, you wanted to be a smartass so fucking take it. Don't try to slow me the fuck down.” - Joe

His tip was meeting my cervix with each thrust, and I watched Joe’s face contort from pure pleasure.

“I wish I could be inside you forever.” - Joe moaned

“Shit, Joey!” - you

There was no better feeling than this. Having Joe balls deep inside of me, feeling every vein and dip of his member.

“You feel so good, damn it.” - Joe groaned

“So… do you!” - you

Joe dropped his head onto my shoulder, his mouth closer to my ear, giving me the ability to hear his small moans better.

“Yes! Right there!” - you moaned

“Here?” - Joe groaned

He planned that last thrust to be harder, and now Joe’s pace was getting uneven.

“Joe.” - you

“Mhm.” - Joe grunted

“Turn us.” - you

“What?” - Joe lifted his head from your shoulder

“Shit, let me ride you.” - you

Joe leaned up and grabbed my waist, flipping us over to where I was on his lap.

“Fuck!” - Joe

This new angle had him reaching new depths as I continuously bounced on his lap.

“Oh god.” - Joe’s

I watched Joe’s head fall back with his mouth open and eyes shut.

He was totally blissed out.

“Just like that… you’re perfect!” - Joe moaned

Falling forward to where my chin was on his shoulder, I tilted my head to the side and quietly moaned Joe’s name into his ear.

The feeling of his cock twitching inside me had my walls fluttering around him, and Joe grabbed my waist.

With his hands on my waist, Joe pulled me off of him and slammed his entire length back inside, causing both of us to moan loudly.

“I’m gonna come!” - you

Joe reached a hand down and pinched my clit with enough force to unleash my orgasm.

The feeling of my walls squeezing Joe’s member became too much for him. Just a few seconds later, Joe buried himself deep inside me and came.

“Oh, y/n!” - Joe moaned and hid his face in your neck

After a couple of seconds of heavy breathing, Joe rolled us over onto our sides and slowly pulled out.

Joe draped a blanket over me and hopped out of bed, going to the bathroom and returning with a damp warm washcloth.

He laid back down next to me and gently parted my legs to clean me up.

“Thanks.” - you sleepily mumbled

“Of course, you did so well, baby.” - Joe

I cuddled up into his bare chest, relishing the warmth his body emitted and the softness of his skin. I wish we could always be this close.

The thought of leaving Cincinnati in two days made me sad. I wish I could stay here with Joe forever, but long distance will have to do for now.

“I wish you could stay too.” - Joe

“How did you know I was thinking that?” - you

“You had a little frown on your face, so I just guessed that you are thinking about having to go back to Athens.” - Joe

“I can’t wait till I graduate and move in here. Being with you every day sounds like an absolute dream.” - you

“I can't wait either.” - Joe

Knowing that one day I'll be living with Joe full-time, being able to do my girlfriend duties and go to every one of his games, seriously made me so happy for the future.

If only you two knew it wouldn't be that simple.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: what does that ending mean? 👀

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut

[iicarused]

More on that whole Alastor having a spouse thing (spoilers for ep5).

A dynamic I've had rotating in my mind is of Alastor having a partner who died and went to hell with him. They represent the stereotypical couple from their time and all around are just happy, despite being in hell. Before they died Al's darling helped him cover up his crimes. Being his alibi, lying to people and cleaning up any messes he might have accidentally left behind. Even on occasions helping him cook or even back using the meat he hunted for. And when they both eventually kicked the bucket they held those values as they did when they were alive.

From an onlookers perspective they come off as a couple who's madly in love with one another, still holding that adoration towards each other through the decades they've been together. They dance together, they hold hands, they kiss… But it's not love. Ok, let me rephrase that for you. They gouge out other people's eyes out of jealousy, they pick their next victims together, they have eachothers back through thick and thin. It's not love, it's deeper.

The thing about those two is that no one can really understand them, as cheesy as that sounds. It gives them a sense of solidarity, that there is no one else for them because there is no one else like them. They are the only ones they would consider… Equals. Heh, one of the reasons why they're so intertwined with each other is because they're both just so terrible. His darling spouse just seems more negotiable, but their passiveness is a ruse. Coming of as motherly/fatherly (whatever the gender neutral term is) easily reeling in any weak minded sinners. Their diabolical antis have Alastor weak. HAH, the demon/angel, whoever has Alastor on contract wishes they had this amount of power over him because he, is, whipped.

Oh, and we can't forget the hotel's residents finding out about Al's little darling doe. Either it was Alastor who mentioned them or Mimzy did through her retelling of how Al rose to power. Or they already meet them (Husker, Niffty), but nevertheless the crew has only heard good things about you. Much to their surprise considering how self centered the dear demon is, while Vaggie is weirded out by this her girlfriend is happy and wishes to meet them someday/night. And when they do meat? They weren't very surprised, they kinda already had an image of who they were due to Alastor's ramblings.

.

.

.

Holding you close he kisses your neck where the burn marks are most visible. You can feel his everlasting smile tugging into a frown against your skin, the mere thought of you taking your own life still makes him sick. How afraid you must have been without him. You lean back cupping his cheek with your hand looking deep into his sorrowful eyes. An unfamiliar look for the usually dapper man, it didn't suit him.

“There's no need to get so worked up over old scars dear, I don't, so why should you? Besides, I'm here now aren't i?”

At your words the radio demon saged and let out a content sigh, his lovely smile returning.

“Your right” he said, kissing the inside of your palm before returning back to snuggling with his lover.

…

I can't imagine the reader not having a twang to their voice, their own vibe, not radio per say but something like from this youtube clip. It probably wouldn't make sense for them to sound like that but I couldn't get it out of my head.

If there's one thing I love , it's when others explore the relationship between the two individuals before they went six feet down under. And one of those versions that i quite enjoy is Deer Dolly by ohproserpine check em out. And also, Where do I begin? on ao3 (be warned, for there is implication of SA in it, nothing too graphic but still, protective Alastro being protective, love it).

I think the appeal of Alastor was how different he was (except for in the creepy ass twink department, we've got plenty of those). Mainly in the way he was presented. “a show made independently, and the voice actors are making streams talking in their characters voices? Ö”. And everyone just ran with what they had, we were given just enough to fall for the colorful cast, enough to make fan content before the pilot was out. Like the dad jokes, fan animations, Alastor saying darling~ and the many accounts of them flustering Ashley, among other things :) (all the letters are links, haven't seen some of these in years dafuq). I'm surprised that not many people use what they said in the streams in their writings, I'd wish to see more of that. There's some real gold in there to be utilized.

But anyways, back to the topic at hand. There's always been one song I've associated Alastor with, since I was like 15 to16 years old, and it's something has to happen. Can't help but imagine a chase sequence whenever I listen to it, and I recently found some more inspiration in the form of this! and that.

.

.

.

He could smell the fear radiating from his prey, they ran with haste, trying to put distance between them and their pursuer. The demon chuckled to himself at their persistence. Such a lively prey they were, truly, he couldn't wait to hold them close to his chest, to trap them in the grip of his teeth, tearing tissue and bones in his jaws. Oh He loves them, he hunts them.

…

Man, I remember back in the day there were so many stories revolving around Alastor appearing in the living world to torment his darling, or to make a meaningful connection with them. But I've never seen one where his darling is his accomplice, helping him spread his “curse” onto unsuspecting victims. I got this idea from this piece of artwork by lanveril.

i remember the days of that too! it was such a great time of alastor and obsession fics yknow, but also small??? since it was just the pilot and we had a lot to toy around with. but you are so right about him and his s/o being a cheesy couple.

the sweetest couple on the block who seem very normal and overall a prime example of love. “darling, i have the meat!” and you would beckon him in the kitchen with a sweet smile so you could prepare it.

i think he would be a cliche husband, but also one who enjoys a little rough housing form time to time.

i had to gatekeep this ask for awhile mb LMFAOO i loved it so much😭

#★* #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

[stevenose]

everlasting (18+)

day 25/31 of the august writing challenge

today’s word: sleepy

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; steve fucking reader; ‘hole’ used for genitalia; sleepy sex; spooning sex; unprotected: talk of cumming inside; cockwarming

You sigh dreamily, half-lidded and lazy. Steve’s cock slowly glides in and out of you, still inside from hours earlier. You’re sure you’ll pay for that somehow in the future, but right now, you don’t care. Each gentle and long push has you keening, squirming a little in Steve’s strong arms.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, breath warm in your ear.

“Hardly,” you croak. The moon is still out, illuminating the room in a soft silver glow. You’re facing the clock, too. 5:03 am. Outside, summer cicadas hum, and the earliest birds are beginning to chirp. Inside, you’re burning up, back against Steve’s chest as the tip of his cock hits every single part of you that needs it.

Steve chuckles in your ear and kisses your neck, readjusting slightly by using his knee to push your legs a little farther apart. This way, he can get closer, nearly laying on top of you as his hips chase the warm, tight heat of you. He groans a little just thinking of how he’s fucking his earlier spend right back inside of you.

“Y’feel so good,” he rumbles. His morning voice is deep and hoarse. It makes you shiver. “Squeezin’ me.”

You nod slowly. “Mhm. You feel good, too.”

“Yeah?” he asks, a little amused. “You still sleepy?”

“Aren’t y-you?”

His hand wraps around the front of you to bring you closer to the edge even more. “Barely. Not when I’m lovin’ on you.”

“I love you,” you sigh, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder.

Steve kisses the back of your head. “Love you, angel. Let me do all the work, just take it ‘n be good, honey.”

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #august23

[s1ater]

boy in the rain.

pairings. matt sturniolo x fem!reader

about. one simple offer of a ride home in the rain turns into an unforgettable relationship and sad ending.

warnings. death, swearing, and unedited

ricky rocks. this might be a hit or miss, so don't dawg on me too hard.

pictures of him were plastered everywhere.

your heart was buried deep in your stomach from the moment you saw it and it only sunk deeper and deeper the more the hours past, the voices that rung through your ears, and the solumn feeling that colored the hallways.

dead. he's dead.

believe it, don't believe it, you still searched for his face as each person passed you, in each class that you entered; looked for any sign of him.

but he was dead.

**

you stood beneath the awning of the gas station, gazing out at the summer rain looking to pour itself onto anything and everything unprotected. you frowned hard as you observed, not expecting your walk for a slushy to be intruded on, especially this abruptly. it was a humid night and therefore even more horrendous that such heavy rainfall came to clash.

you sighed, making a move to go back into the grimy gas station when he called out.

“hey, you need a ride?”

you stopped, turning toward the direction of the only car inhabiting the gas stations parking lot, squinting, and indicating a boy in the front driver's seat. he wore a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head, squinting back at you due to the rain spitting in his face from his rolled down window.

you knew him.

"are you serious?"

you can barely hear his laugh, but it was there, and you almost melted right there to the cement, "yes. c'mon, I won't leave you stranded."

the ten feet you had to walk to his car was horrible, so you were immediately thankful for the offer the moment you slung yourself into his car. he must have been able to tell too by the way his laugh once again rung through your ears, watching you attempt to catch your breath in his passenger seat.

"I'm matt," he smiled from ear to ear in amusement, offering his hand to you as you clutched your sopping wet body.

"I know," you chattered through your teeth, no longer suffering from the everlasting summer heat from outside, but the air conditioner blasting in matt's car. "sturniolo."

"oh, you know," he was still highly entertained by whatever this situation he put himself in, especially by the way you side eyed his hand still waiting for yours. "you cold?"

"no," you lied through your teeth, still shaking.

he smiles, turning the ac off and switching the heat on low, "right. what's your name?"

you felt a sudden chest pain at the question. you had been going to school with matt since the 7th grade. you had classes with him, had seen him outside of school at parties, hangouts. you knew who he was, so why didn't he know who you were?

your frown was obvious, and he couldn't help but have felt that he fucked up, like his question was preposterous and insulting, "moe."

a lie, again. and just like the first, he could tell it was one, once again.

"you go to mountainview, right?"

"yeah."

he nods, and the previous amused smile is gone and a narrowed stare is there to replace it. he's unsure why you lied and why you were suddenly so upset.

"shit, I'm getting your seats wet," you suddenly became hyperaware of your drenched self pressed into his leather seats.

"you're good," he glanced to your lap suddenly, watching you squirm, as if attempting to reposition yourself in some way where you weren't soaking his seats, but you only made yourself look like a fool. "I wouldn't have asked you in the car if I cared so much about my seats."

you smiled sympathetically.

"so, moe, where to?"

**

his locker was heavily decorated. flowers, hearts, cards, pictures of him with friends, pictures of just him. you stood across from it, staring at each individual item that was taped down to show love and sympathy and hope. you glanced down to the palm of your hand, clutching the necklace you held tightly before bringing it right in front of you.

the necklace, or rather locket, swayed back and forth with the golden heart weighing it down.

it was no longer meant to be yours.

"how'd you get that?"

your head cranked to the left where a boy stared you down, his cheeks flushed but vision narrowed down on you, "huh?" you quickly dropped your arm down, shoving the piece into your pocket.

"where'd you get that?"

your eyes widen, realizing this was an exact replica of matt storming toward you, but with longer hair; chris. you felt your heart push up into your throat, feeling yourself backing on your feet the closer he got.

"answer me."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," you swing around, marching away from him the best you could as he still tried to trail behind you.

"that's matty's."

**

"this rain is going to kill me," you watch his knuckles flex over the railing as he grasped it tightly, leaning over the edge, gazing into the pitch dark. it had been weeks since matt had first picked you up in a rain storm at that gas station, and ironically, once again he had found you.

the two of you now sat in a watchtower in the middle of town that you had taken him to the first night, gazing out at the building lights being blurred by the rain that hadn’t let up in days. matt was impatient by this, you didn’t have to know him well or see him more than a minute to know this.

“why don’t you like the rain?” you laughed silently at him as you watched him grit his teeth, turning back around to face you.

he suddenly looks sad.

you regret asking the question.

"I just lost someone really special to me," his eyes strayed from yours, meeting the wall of rain behind you, "and the day it happened... all it did was rain."

you watch him carefully. his tone was steady but you could tell it took a lot in him to keep it that way.

"I-" his hand reaches for the chain around his neck out of sudden instinct, wrapping his fingers around the golden material. "I can't stand rain, not after that. it makes me feel sick to my stomach. it's all I think about and it's like it's following me."

you feel a sudden push on your body, like a force guiding you to him, "oh, matt-"

"y/n-"

"I'm sorry," you ignore the short sound of protest, finding yourself attaching to him with your arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm sorry."

his body is stiff and cold and you can tell that everything in him is trying to resist the warmth of your own. he wants to not want it, but he fails the resistance and every voice in his head telling him he was fine and the hug was a ridiculous gesture. he fails, allowing the barrier of your warmth to immerse into him, accepting the hug that was really far from ridiculous, but needed.

**

you weren't going to go.

after your small encounter with chris, you were practically setting yourself up by attending matt's funeral. but you couldn't not go, not after everything.

that morning it had rained.

that had been a first since one of the last days of summer. the rain had glistened everything, made everything seem so renewed and bright and so fresh for a november evening.

it took a lot for you to walk through those doors, walk up those stairs, and even sit down to watch the service. you could barely sit there for a second before walking right back out onto the front steps.

you feel suffocated. you claw at your chest, digging your fingers against your skin before they find the locket--looping your fingers against the golden chain out of instinct—like he did. you dip your head backwards, inhaling strongly, trying to breathe the images of matt away from your mind.

bad idea.

especially when you realize you're not the only one on the front steps.

“you’re moe, aren’t you?”

you look down and the feeling in your chest becomes worse.

chris stares up at you from where he sits on the cement steps. you can't tell what the look in his eyes are, but it's nothing you find enjoyment in--especially when they mirror matt's exact pupils, his exact iris', his exact color...

you feel deeply disturbed that he looks at you with something that matt never did.

“yeah…”

he scoffs, running his hand down his mouth, "yeah... great."

"how'd you know?"

"that's our mother's chain, y/n," he looks back around and ahead of him, but still mindlessly points back at the golden locket around your neck. "she gave it to matt before she passed."

oh.

oh. oh. oh god.

"but I'm sure he told you if he gave it to you."

no, he didn't.

"how'd you know I was moe?"

he laughs a little, genuine as he digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, "moe; 'heaven', 'rain', and 'sky' from burmese origins. he knew you were lying the moment you told him that, but he didn't know why or even why 'moe'?" you smiled to yourself. "had us up all night looking up the meaning of 'moe' and decided it had to be that. met in the rain, name means rain."

"clever," you whispered, slowly taking a seat next to chris. "couldn't keep anything anyway from him."

"yeah or you're just shit at lying," he scoffs, glancing at you. "but it's funny you tried."

"funny I tried," you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head, as if laughing at yourself.

you knew about chris and you knew about nick, just like you had known matt before you actually knew him. but getting to know matt, was also like getting to know his two other triplets. he told you everything.

and because of that, he told you about chris.

"I should give this to you," you find yourself reaching behind your neck, unclasping the locket from your neck. "it belongs to you."

he told you how chris never took anything seriously, he told you how chris was really good at brightening a room because of it, and he told you how angry chris was when matt was the one given the locket and not him.

it made a lot more sense now that that friend was actually their mother.

chris glanced at you before doing a double take, realizing what you were doing. his eyes softened fast at the sight of the heart swinging back and forth between the two of you. he didn't take it. you were both sitting there, watching the priceless piece hold there for the taking, and he still didn't take it.

"y/n," his voice is soft and almost sympathetic, but his eyes are still trained tightly on the piece of jewelry. "that's-that's, I can't take that."

but no matter how angry chris was about the locket, he accepted it wasn't his. and what wasn't his, he wouldn't take.

"what do you mean?"

"matty gave that to you. it's yours."

"but I don't deserve it."

"y/n," he shakes his head, pushing the necklace back to you. "it's yours now, okay? there's a reason matt was given that locket and there's a reason it was given to you, okay? I don't need it," he shakes his head, his eyes wide and red. "I don't need it."

you feel your eyes burn. the desperate sound of chris' voice makes you want to burst out into tears. you don't know what to do, and he can tell. he takes the locket, but not for reasons you want.

"here," you watch chris dig into his suit before pulling out an envelope. "before... everything," he coughs a little, beginning to feel his throat closing up. "matt wrote you something."

all icy provision from before has melted. his whole body is turned all the way to face you now, no longer to you as a stranger, but someone he understands.

"take it," he paired the envelope with the necklace before pushing it to you. "read it when it rains."

**

"you ever get sick of me?"

it was a month and half into the school year and what you thought was only going to be a summer friendship, blossomed into something else.

your question made matt arch a brow, questioning if you were being serious, "what?"

"I mean day and night, we're the only people that see each other. how do your friends not hate you?"

it was true. you rarely ever saw matt at school unless in the halls or even on small occasions of going to lunch together, but it was like every time after that, he was at your house. matt valued his time and when it was open and free, he always spent it with you.

you had had this conversation before, multiple times. you were always the one who started them.

"I could never get sick of you."

the only reason you questioned it so often was because of how different you and matt were. the two of you becoming friends and being as close as you were was the most unlikely thing you could ever think of. the two of you had no connections what so ever in friends, hobbies, or even classes. your lives rarely ever crossed beyond in the hallways or parties.

"you act like we're not friends," he crashes onto your living room couch, slightly amused. "you're my best friend."

you feel your face burn at the comment. it paralyzes you more than it should. you also considered matt to be your best friend, but it still catches you off guard hearing the words allowed. you're not sure what to say.

"im not yours?"

"you are."

"I figured," he's grinning now, "just making sure."

it's silent.

"I value our time a lot, you know that," you've heard this a million times, but you could never get sick of it. "we don't know how much time we get with someone, so it's important to me to fill my time with someone I care about."

you finally take a seat next to him, watching him with a ghost of a smile on your face as he speaks.

we don't know how much time we get with someone.

"I want to give you this."

you watch as matt brings his hands behind his neck, unclasping the chain that you had became so accustomed to seeing around his neck.

your mouth slightly opens, "what?"

"I want you to-"

"matt, that's-" you shake your head, cutting yourself off. you couldn't even process this gesture. "I can't take that from you."

"you can."

you really couldn't. the first time you had seen the locket was the first time he had told you about why he didn't like the rain. he had clutched onto it like a safety net. after that, that necklace was all you could see on him half the time. it took him two months for him to tell you what it was and that was exactly why you couldn't take it from him.

"I can't, matty."

"why?"

"because it's yours and I can't take something that was given to you--especially if it was by someone who mattered a lot to you."

he looks as if he thinks about it, his eyes lowering down, looking to the gold heart, before back up to you, "yeah..."

even if you were right, he didn't care. the piece was always significant to him, but there was a point in time where he was ready to let it go--hence why he left it on your kitchen counter without your knowledge.

**

moe,

I know you're already laughing at me, wondering why you're reading something I could easily say over the phone. but I know you eat this up, even if you like to think it's corny.

you were never someone I thought I needed. from the moment I received that locket from my mother, was the moment I was ready to give up. my mother was my best friend and someone who taught me everything that matters.

you remind me of her--in the least weirdest way possible. you made me what I missed, you were exactly what I needed and wanted.

you keep me sane and well structured. I used to hate getting up in the morning, but after that moment, in the watch tower, when you hugged me even as we were strangers, I couldn't wait to wake up to see your face again.

I felt like a fool. I felt like how chris probably feels everyday. it's a feeling I hope I never forget or never leaves me.

you are special. you are worth all the time in the world. the day I forget that or the day I forget my priorities is a day i'm dead.

I hope to never lose you or whatever it is we have, and if I do, moe, my sweet, sweet moe, I'll find you in the rain.

matty.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfiction #fluff

[marilynthornhilllover]

Simply because, she cares

Larissa weems x fem reader

Warning: slight depressive talk, fluff and care

Larissa immediately knew something was wrong when your entered her office. There was simply a shift in the peaceful air of tension of the atmosphere. You sniffed as you slammed the door harshly the rage building back up as you stormed into your shared bedroom with larissa. Larissa lifted her gaze making brief eye contact with you. Her heart sank completely.

You looked like you wanted to curl up and die, you had tears in your eyes threatening to spill out as your nose flared, clearly showing that you were on the verge of having a mental breakdown. You quickly averted your eyes from her gaze and disappeared into the room slamming the door.

You felt tired, hopeless, depression, utterly exhausted beyond sleep fixation, and mostly worthless. Before you could even reach the bed a loud painful sob escaped you. Larissa's heart was deeply troubled, it was at that point she placed down her pen and got up from her seat.

She sighed as she took off her heels and her jacket. She slowly approached the door and softly knocked.

" my love?" Her voice was soft and filled with deep concern. True sympathy - one you never understood. Larissa's love for you ran deeper than the ocean. She truly cared, she truly loved, she truly protected and provided for you.

"Y/n please don't shut me out again.... darling?" You were getting more agitated by the second. You wanted her to be mad at you.... probably because you were mad at yourself, or maybe it's because everyone else was. You needed everyone one, including larissa to scold you for making mistakes and simply being human.

You were far to harsh on yourself, you knew that obviously but you found comfort in that pain. You were your biggest rival. There's times where your soul desperately wanted to be happy - needed to be happy but that everlasting pain was all you knew, all you ever felt. So that's why when larissa came into your life with so much love and joy, sympathy, understandment it was hard to accept it. It was hard to understand it.

You didn't even know why she loved you so much, as if you died she would be the loneliest woman on planet earth. Maybe it's because you don't quite understand what love is because you never had it or practiced it on yourself.

Larissa twisted the door nob then finding out that the door was unlocked, from there she gently sneeked her way in. There you were on the bed curled up into a small ball crying. Your mascara ruined and your face completely tear ridden. Larissas shoulders dropped, as if she wasn't expecting what she saw - again with the sympathy.

" Oh darling come here" she cooed gently sitting on the bed and tapping her lap. You looked up at her from the pillow, the mascara remains taking the stain on the white material. You looked at her deeply. Trying to figure out if you were one, dreaming or two maybe she was lying.

Her deep caring blue eyes stared back at yours, truth,meaning and love shined through them. She looked like she had all the answers to your troubles and problems and was willing to help if you would just let her in. You couldn't help the feeling of feeling like an equation. Waiting to be solved and placed away in a box and labeled as useless. But larissa would never do that.

No one hurts you more than yourself, your a big overthinker and that's the sharpest part of the knife for you. You sniff as you carefully got up and laid in her lap. Larissa laid back against the pillows and placed pulled you up with her, making you lay on her chest.

She doesn't say anything. The silence was killing you. You needed to know what she was thinking. If she thought she should divorce you, go on a break, take you to see a counselor, scold you for being the way you are. But again that's not who larissa is. That's not the woman who proposed, the woman who's vows where to love you even in your illness.... she simply cared for you and you didnt know why your heart refused to believe it.

As If she was reading your mind she spoke up, her voice cracking as though she shared your pain - felt your pain.

" rest your mind, my love, it's been quite mean to you" she whispered kissing your temple. And there it was. The kiss of love. Her soft voice and cold gentle finger tips running through your hair as you slowly started to drift off to sleep. Your body fought against it, larissa is busy and has better things to do, your disrupting her work, you own her an explanation. Oh shut up mind, you stopped fighting the sweet desire and fell stead fast asleep.

You were slowly brought back from your depth when you heard larissas sweet voice mumbling some sweet nothings in your ear while her nails lightly strached against your scalp. Somethings like ' I genuine love you' ' your pain is my pain' ' your ok in my arms'. Your heart felt weak and fluttered. You felt like your were in heaven.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the lighting of the dim light on the bed side table. It was most definitely past 6, which meant you were probably laying in larissa ls arms sleeping for atleast 2 hours. Larissa is a busy woman who has almost a thousand things to do and for her to chose to lay here with you will always be appreciated and cherished from the deepest depth of your heart.

" she's back, are you feeling OK my love?" It was a stupid and rhetorical question, she knew that. Obviously you weren't ok, you didn't even tell her what was the problem yet.

Tha pain of the world immediately came back to you, and she noticed it. It was as of sleep was your only escape but she wanted it to be her, and only her. She wanted you to trust her with all of your problems.

She took your chin in her fingers and brought your face up to hers, sapphire eyes piercing into your dark soul setting light upon it. She kissed your nose and you gaved her a faint smile before giggling when she proceeded to leave pecks of kisses all over your face. It's a good thing her lipstick is stain proof or your entire face would be red right now.

She chuckled as she left one final kiss to your forehead.

" since i've got you to smile and laugh what monsters have been clawing at you?" She asked sincerely, your smile faded quicker than it appeared as guilt and that never ending cycle of pain filled your beautiful eyes. Your eyes started to gloss over again as you avoided larissas inetesene and worried stare.

She quickly grabbed hold of your face and forced you to maintain eye contact but you pulled away. You quickly got up and stood facing away from her. Larissa sighed in defeat, she really thought she was making progress but still she was not mad at you. And will never be.

Not because she has to put up with it but simply because she cares.

" darling come here" she spoke softly voice breaking as tears filled her own eyes. When she got no response she stood, still keeping her distance, choosing to give you the acquired space you needed.

" please my love, y/n just tell me what the problem is your breaking my heart!" She shouted, not intentionally but she did. You looked up at the mirror infront of you, meeting her gaze quickly. She looked stressed, you were adding to her stress. Your pain hurts her as much as it hurts you and possibly even more, and if not it leaves her scared.

You turned around and slowly walked up to her before hugging her. Wrapping your arms around her neck as she wrapped hers completely around your waist pulling you in to get you as close as she can. Her body heat brought your peace and harmony. Happiness even. You felt refilled, refreshed.

Her hugs always give you hope and possibilitys.

"I'm sorry for shouting" she mumbled and you shook your head pulling back a bit.

" I get it your upset and stressed, I would shout as me too" you said handing your head low.

" that doesn't justify my actions y/n, I had no right to shout at you regardless of my emotions, as your partner i should have control of that and not get upset every time your broken" she spoke sternly. She held your hand and placed it over her chest. Feeling her heart beat you smiled and looked up at her.

" my heart beats for you by y/n/n, it whispers your name and this is not poetry I'm speaking the truth. When your sad I'm not like oh my gosh this shit again, no, I always wanna help you in everything and with everything, so please don't leave me in the dark" her words were like a soothing melody. You sighed and sat down on the bed pulling her with you.

" have you ever felt like the majority of the things that happen or are said to you are your fault" you asked her and she looks at you like she's either confused or doesn't know how to answer the question without making you feel worst about the situation.

"ok like, I dont know how to explain it" you said in defeat sighing. Larissa held your hands clasping your fingers with hers.

" you don't have to know the answer to every problem my love and that's ok. Life is a dark unfair exhausting mystery and on some days it might get darker and harder to find that spark of joy and happiness but just know I'm always by your side no matter what and your not in this alone" she whispered looking at your reaction to her every word carefully.

" thank you rissa, I love you and thanks for supporting me and always going that extra mile" you whispered. She chuckled rolling her eyes playfully.

" I'd travel to the end of the world for you" she cooed kissing your temple.

" promise me something darling" she said all of a sudden in a very serious tone. You turned your body in her direction, giving her your undivided attention just as she always does. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear behind speaking up.

" stop being a monster to yourself." There's so much more she wanted to say, could have said but she chosed not to. She simply chosed to comfort you in this storm of pain and distress.

" I promise " you spoke confidently. She smiled brightly causing you to reflect it.

The both of you began kissing passionately, you slipped your tongue into larissas mouth in hopes to win for dominance but that's simply a game she was way to good at. She pulled you onto her lap and held the back of your head as she deepened the kiss making you moan before pulling away.

" there she is" she chuckled holding you tightly.

" here I am" your spok before she held you flush against her chest pulling you to lay down with her.

" hey what about your work?" You asked looking upbat her. She looked down and smiled at you.

" what about it, sweetheart? Now sleep" she muttered, slowly starting to drift off to sleep when her eyes began to get heavy. You smiled at her, slowly drifting off to dream land aswell. She simply loves you......

#fypシ゚viral #gwendoline christie #fanfic #larissa weems x female reader #love #cute #gwendolineuniverse #wednesday #larissa weems #marilynthornhilllover #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #fluff fanfics #fluff overload #larissa weems fanfic #larissaweems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader

[fangsp1der-2099]

Manipulative

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

| Navigation |

| Warnings‼️: Coriolanus is a bit possessive and a bit crazy also gets a bit suggestive at the end but that’s all folks. |

| a/n : first time writing for a character like Coriolanus but I hope I did him some justice because I’m in love with him. Enjoy 💕. |

| tags 🏷️: @knight-of-flowerss @thethreeeyed-raven |

manipulative

/məˈnɪpjʊlətɪv/

adjective 


exercising unscrupulous control or influence over a person or situation.

A word commonly used to describe Coriolanus Snow. Almost anyone who wasn’t under his influence would call him that word. Not you though, how could you? He was sweet and kind and could never hurt you. He bought you nice clothes, gifted you bouquets of roses that were coloured a white of the purest snow and gave you anything a lady of the Capitol could ever need. However you still got the feeling that something was wrong with him. What if the people were right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were looking in the mirror at yourself. Was it yourself? The eyes that stared back at you didn’t feel carry the same warmth as they once did. Your curves, didn’t feel like they were yours, too full for a person who had been through war. You glide your hands down your newly bought satin dress. Coriolanus had bought it for when you were feeling down a few days ago. He could never see his lady sad.

You hug yourself, arms snaking around your stomach. Why did you feel this way? A silent sob racked your body. Tears spilled down your blushed cheeks and dropped onto the dress. You tried to wipe away the tears but they fell like an everlasting waterfall. The mascara that had sat on your eyelashes were now smudged across your eyelids and the cherry lipstick that once graced your lips was now smeared across your chin. You looked as disgusting as you felt. At least you thought so.

The front door of your penthouse clicked open. Was Coriolanus already home? You grab a handkerchief and you wipe off as much of the ruined makeup as you could and replaced it with a faux smile.

“Darling? Are you here?” You hear Coriolanus’ soft voice behind the door. “Yes I’m here Corio.” Your voice still shaky but hopefully not noticeable. He opens the door and he looks straight at you and smiles. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He’s wearing his deep red coat with a pair of black gloves. You try to keep some distance from him. As he steps forward you take a small shuffle back. After a few steps he notices. “Darling? Are you ok? Did something happen while I was away? I’m telling you if one of the butlers tried anything I will fucking-“ “No! No I’m fine!” You cut him off. “Just not feeling great that’s all.” You chuckle slightly, trying to play it off.

He sighs. “Please doll, if anything is wrong ,tell me.” He walks over to you and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know.” A genuine soft smile appears on your lips. He always had a way to cheer you up. “Are you going to tell me why you look like that?” he raises his brow, obviously noticing your red puffy eyes and the smudged make up. “Nothing important.” You wave your hand around trying to exaggerate that you were fine. “Tell me darling. You’re safe with me.” He places his hands on the sides of your face, softly caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “Please.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

“Fine…I just feel wrong?” You confess, you feel like crying again. “Wrong?” He questions. “Yes wrong. My body feels like not mine.” You hear an almost sadistic laugh come from him. “Darling please. Your body is mine.” What? You look at him confused. He kisses you again but this time on your lips. He invites his tongue in between your lips and into your mouth where both of your lips danced together in a harmony of passion and lust. He leaves your mouth and works down to your neck leaving a trail of kisses. Slightly nipping your skin with every kiss trying to mark you to show that you were his

You let out a soft whimper. You didn’t know whether it was out of fear or pleasure. “Tell me that you’re mine.”He says breathlessly as he leaves your skin just before he continues to kiss you. Your hand reaches for his hair as he reaches the neck line of your dress. “I’m yours Coriolanus.” You moan into his hair and he chuckles into your skin, you can feel his voice vibrate against your skin. “I’m glad to see that you finally realise who you belong to doll.” His voice laced with authority. He slips down your dress before carrying you to the bedroom.

Maybe the people were right but you wasn’t going to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: hope you enjoyed and have a good day lovelies 💕

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth

[josephquinnswhore]

i'm having a kinda rough week and i just want pedro and reader lying on a couch in a living room and he's in one of his cozy cardigans, on top of reader while them playing his soft curls, giving him some kissies and he's slowly dozing off

i LOVE your writing<3!! and this is my first ever req to ur blog i hope u'll do it!!

(and i hope u having/had a great day <3!!)

Content

Pairing: Pedro Pascal X GN! Reader

Summary: lazing on the lounge with Pedro is the perfect way to spend your afternoon.

Word Count: 0.8k

Content warning: Fluff! Tiny bit of sadness if you squint. I wrote for gender neutral reader for the first time ever I hope it’s okay!

Note: I’m so sorry to hear you’re having a rough week. I feel you, so imma write this for you. This is the sweater I imagine Pedro wearing. Hope you feel better soon and love this fic 🫶🏼 feel free to send me a message if you wanna talk to someone. Also I’m sorry this is short my brain is fried from being mentally in a bad place :(

After the week you’d had all you wanted was Pedro. Nothing more, nothing less. The stress in your life was building, like a water in a balloon begging to burst at the weight it couldn’t bare, like the balloon, you couldn’t bare the weight on your shoulders any longer.

Pedro had asked what you’d wanted to do today, how you wanted to spend the day, if at all with him. Of course you did, you needed him, he was your lifeline when things got tough. He would guide you through the darkness like a torch with everlasting batteries, as long as you needed him, his light never dimmed.

“What do you wanna do today sweetheart, hm?” The softness of his voice drew you into his comfort, the way his fingers curl around your hair as he scratches your scalp sends tingles down your spine in delight, relieving you of some thoughts that had been bothering you.

“Can we stay inside today, just wanna lay down an cuddle if that’s okay.” You notice how his brows pinch momentarily, you begin to wonder if he had wanted to do something productive today. Before you could start to overthink he takes your hand and leads you to the living room, and sits you down on your couch.

“Of course we can sweetheart. You get yourself comfortable, I’ll put on a movie.” With the palm of your hand, you squish the pillow that’s already on the lounge until it’s comfortable to your liking, it sinks under your head and the pressure that had built in your neck seemed to disappear once the weight of your head was no longer held up.

Pedro turns to you once he’s out on the movie; one of your favourites. The picture on the screen is almost hypnotising, your comfort movie being one you’ve watched hundreds of times, a fine distraction.

“Move your legs sweetheart.” He pats your legs, trying to sit near your feet but you protest, keeping your legs still. “Can you lay on top of me?” You make grabby hands at him and he understands, smiling at you as you beg for his affection, he shifts his body and gently lowers himself down on top of you, you open your legs to make room for his and curl your own around him.

The weight of him makes you sigh in content, he wasn’t worried about crushing you, you’d done this dozens of times; he knew when you’d asked him to do this you really needed it, there was never a time he’d denied your request, how could he? When he could physically feel your body relax u der him, the tension in your body melts like butter. He notices how your breathing always regulates and becomes more calm, no more deep and rushed breathing. The thing he loves the most is when your fingers curl around his hair, especially that spot on the nape of his neck.

“You’re so strong. I’ve always admired your resilience you know, you don’t always have to be so brave for everyone.” Although his voice is quiet, it still rumbles as it vibrates on your chest. The confession is sweet, like honey it sticks; you would remember this eternally. You reply with a kiss to the top of his head.

His head is on your chest, rising and falling with you as you take steady breaths. You reach up and pull the blanket that sits on top of the lounge, adjusting it to cover the both of you as he watches the movie.

You’re too distracted to concentrate on it though, too enamoured by the softness of Pedro’s curly hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck, you feel the goosebumps form on his skin as you do so. His body becomes slightly heavier as he relaxes into you, the weight creating a sensation of something familiar to a weighted blanket, but also weightlessness. You feel calm, like you never had nothing to worry about in the first place.

With your free hand you rub your hand up and down his left arm, he tightens it around your waist as he tucks it under your back, as if he could possibly get any closer. Pedro was losing it, between the fingers tangled in his hair and the gentle caress of your hand on his arm, his eyelids feel heavy, he feels bad for it. He’s meant to be taking care of you, knows how badly you’re feeling and wants to take care of you, but he can’t help it; it’s almost like a spell and he’s compliant in its entirety.

You notice him fighting it, eyelids fluttering open every few seconds and head jolting trying to stay awake, “go to sleep baby.” You mumble. The softness of his sweater between your fingers makes it easy to glide your hand back and forth in a gentle caress.

He had you; he always had you. You were never going to fall with this man in your life; he would catch you, every time, no matter how many times you’d fall. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as his chest heaves and the little snores that escape his lips. Yeah, things would be okay.

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x gn reader #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal rpf #Pedro pascal x you #pedropascal #Pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal request #writing requests

[sunny-mercya]

Guilty Eyes

01. Oppressive Anger

Guilty! Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist || Next || Based Prototype

Sometimes, when the days are dragging and the nights too short for blissful sleep, sometimes Gojo wished for your anger.

Wished for you to scream at him, accusing him of all the things he had done—the lies he had told and the sins he committed—and throwing the most hurtful words and insults at him, you—with all your neutral and rational mind—could muster to say, then your tongue was coated with kindness and compassion—and saying such harsh hurtful regrettable words, to a friend you oh so adored, was as if your tongue had being chopped off.

He gladly, with great relief, takes your anger over your current state of mental being. Because if your angry at him, Gojo knows you're still here—being human.

Lazying around on the couch, Gojo stretched his arms up—pretending to reach the ceiling—looking at his hands, which are ragged with scars—tiny and pale skinned they are, barley noticeably—and at one particular scar his gaze lingered longer.

A scar which goes aslant from thumb to his pinky finger across the inside of his palm. It had been deep, healed ragged and bumpy and leaving a line of visible white.

Reminder to what he wished to receive from you again. Furious anger, like in the night he had—so causal as if it had been of unimportance—told you, that it was him who had killed Geto Suguru—your Husband—and would do it again if needed.

Oh, how Gojo reminiscent in such a memory;

~~~

When Gojo had asked you, via sms, to meet him in the Jujutsu Faculty—sounding urgently about whatever matter he wanted to tell you—you had hoped, perhaps foolish, that he and Geto had made up—being friends again.

Honestly you didn't wanted to come, would have preferred to have this talk tomorrow or in the afternoon instead in the dead of night.

You're exhausted, utterly tired. Eventful weeks it had been, you're daughters—you loved Nanako and Mimiko to death—had been pulling at your nerves all day long, with a whole field trip of shopping spree and then the repeating upcoming house chores, it left you feeling drained.

Plus the adding worry for Geto, who hadn't come home in two nights.

»Sato, I'm exhausted, so I hope whatever you wanna tell me, is something of importance and not some silliness.« you pinched out a sigh, rubbing your eyes.

»I killed Geto Suguru.«

Gojo had said it without batting a eyelash. No sugarcoating it, bluntly straightforward with nonchalantly.

»What?«

»I killed Geto Suguru.«

You frowned at him, breath hitching up in your chest. A silence emitted in between you two. Your brain, mind—however such a complex organ, was it even an organ though? You should ask leiri about it, is working—was fizzing with incomprehension lack of understanding.

Trying to defuse what Gojo had said. The meaning of doubleness behind it—decoding a code which probably doesn't exist.

That's, that's a nasty—cruel—joke to say, even for Gojo himself. Aren't they friends? Sure, not right now as both boys are having a small fallout, a break of each other, but still—they are friends.

Gojo takes a few steps towards you, standing almost before you. Towering over you, like a looming shadow. You half expected a grin from him, the taunting arrogant one, but Gojo lips are sealed shut into a line.

Gojo took your right-hand, holding it up and inspecting your ring-finger—the wedding ring weighing heavily now—promise of everlasting—a dim shimmer now in your eyes as if the flourishing light in the metal had burned out like a extinguished flame.

»I have killed Geto Suguru.« Gojo repeated it again, slower—dragging the words out, as if you're too slow to understand otherwise.

In a split second of silence, when it had begun to settle again—leaving everything too loud in your own ears, a thunderous blood rush to hear with a way too loud beating heart and breathing—a smack echoed through the room.

Gojo stumbled back in surprise, his sunglasses flying off from the impact of your hand and landing on the ground.

In astonishment, Gojo holds his cheek, which started to sting now and a slight throb to it. Never had he believed you would slap him.

He had expected a punch from you—you could hit hard and lightning quick, considering your curse ability, breaking someone's nose and bones with ease—but a slap? No way, that was out of character.

Blue eyes—so bright like the morning sky, a form of heaven and sea in its own—gazed, more like starred, into (Eye-Colour) eyes—which had a dust of slight gold in it, reminding one of the stars or actually, more of the jerking lightning's.

»Don't make such cruel jokes ever again, Satoru.«

»Here, I send you proof.« Gojo got his phone out, typing quickly on it and pocket it back. Watching how you take your own phone out and opening the attachment he had send to you.

It would have been like a dramatic episode of some Television, if the situation had been another—with a more humorous take—how your phone slides from your shaking hand and below onto the ground.

If the situation, its circumstances, had been different—Gojo would've chuckled, applauding himself and Geto proudly for tricking you so majestically perfectly—but it wasn't.

Your breath hitched again, clogging your lungs. It felt hard to breathe for mere moments. All oxygen leaving your body—causing a colour drain from your skin, leaving it ashen and sickly pale.

Then, like a wild animal—no, more like a madman full of hysterical bloodlust and surreal reality lost—you lunged at Gojo. Gripping his collar and tumbling to the ground with him.

You straddled his hips and Gojo—who had dreamed of such lustful scenario with you, having developed a longing of love—a crush per say—to you, let it remained hidden though—behind a friendship he valued more and knowing too well how strongly Geto's affection had been to you—would've snarky teased you

You slapped both sides of his cheeks, terror filled shrill screams of frustration and anger leaving your throat.

»HOW COULD YOU?! WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?!«

»Satoru, Why did you kill Suguru? Tell me, Satoru.«

»I had to. It's for greater good, for a cause of the better. I had to, to keep you safe.«

Gojo looked up into your eyes—dulled they are now, having lost its sparks and colours.

Those blue eyes, which once you have adored, are too bright now—bringing a discomfort out in you—itching you to scratch them out. Such blueness, who resembles heaven and sea—a reflection of refuge and safety when looking in them, could get someone lost for hours in their beauty—should be not allowed to see the world anymore.

You got off from Gojo, legs shaky and wobbly, walking towards the door, ready to leave this damned school—which only causes harm—for final and good.

»We're not friends anymore. If you dare to get near my daughters or me, I will kill you Gojo.«

Two years later—like a deja-vu it felt, though it wasn't Gojo himself who had told you these news, but he was there and for once he was aware of it—Gojo stood in front of you again.

Gojo had hold to his, himself giving, promise—after witnessing your thundering breakdown, your weeping causing a havoc throughout the coast and seas, during Geto's funeral—not to bother you anymore directly. Indirectly he still keeps discreetly watch over you.

Though this situation, a new circumstance, was a complete different chapter as the one before for the both of you—and yet it felt just like last time, a repeat.

Blinding rages fills your body, like a hot steam of tea and makes the sweat run down your skin.

Your faces scrunched up into a frown—lips jutting out and shaking, nose flaring up whenever another exhale of breath you took—and for once Gojo thought, just how ugly you're looking at this moment.

It's you, you you you you you you, your fault. No.

How, how can he dare to be in your presence again? You warned him and yet he is here.

Why was Gojo next to you, when the doctors—not the doctors but the pathologist—had told you that your daughters—your precious girls—are nothing but a exploding bloody mess of deranged limps and spilled organs.

He had no fucking right to be here, next to you and gazing at your mourning and sorrow.

Once the doctor had left, leaving you two alone in the lonesome of hallway, Gojo turned to you—an apologetic expression, filled with a hint of mournful, on his lips.

You wanted to suckerpuch him, pummel him into the ground. You didn't though, opted to just walked away.

It's me, me me me me me me me me, my fault.

You just wandered through the hallways, no real destination in mind. Just a mindless little walk. Unnoticeable, seems as you have forgotten, you didn't sense Gojo behind you as he followed you.

Your feet leading you into an operation room. The sterile tools for cutting up a Humans body, glistening in the dimly lit room so magnificent—that you felt drawn to them.

Taking the scalpel into your hand, moving the handle in your fingers, you take a look at its clean metal and sharp edge—so sharp indeed that it could easily..........yes.

Mind completely blank, knowing no more what's right or wrong—moral compass finally broken—and having no dignity and responsibility and neither respect to your own life and body left—you did what you never thought you would have been able to do.

In a swift clean motion you sliced your left wrist, pain seemed not to flare up at all—just a slight tingle—and then, with a eagerness as if it's the only thing to do with such passion, you stabbed the scalpel again and again into your chest—piercing your lungs and heart—and abdomen, wanting to quill your organs out like porridge.

When Gojo had come minutes later into the room you had disappeared in, he sucked in a breath and stood in stunned in stupor for seconds there.

Red and white. Red and white. Red and White. Red. Blood Red.

The essence of life, besides air and to a degree water, itself dripped from your body, your veins—like a leaking pipe—onto the white tiles below. Creating a puddle to sit in.

Gojo rushed to you, slipping on your blood and the polished tiles, hitting hard the ground and feeling the warmth of your blood on his hands and face.

He crawled on hands hand knees to you, kneeling before you now and gripping the scalpel. Gojo didn't care in this moment that he had took the sharp side in his hand, slicing open his palm and letting his own blood mingle with yours.

»My fault, my fault fault fault fault fault. It's all my fault–«

With shaky breath you repeated those words, trying to stab yourself more and more, but couldn't—someone's stopping you.

Gojo ripped the scalpel from your grip, deepen his own fresh wound even more and brought you in his arms. One hand holding your spilled organs back and the other supporting your head against his neck.

~~~

leiri had to put you into a two months coma and when you woke up, not even fulled healed, not only did you attack everyone around you who remotely comes near you—but you also had tried another suicidal attempt and this you almost managed to succession.

Somehow you got your hands on one of the stored away curses in the research faculty of the Special Sorcerers Hospital and well, to make things short—it had caused more brain damage than suspected at first.

~~~

Gojo blinked, eyes filling dry now after looking too long against the harsh light on the ceiling. He turned his head to the side, spotting you in the doorframe—looking frowning and disappointed at him.

»Can't sleep?«

»I hate you Satoru. I absolutely hate you, I hope you suffer death and burn in hell.«

Gojo only hummed, nodding and watching how you turned around—starting to walk few steps away and back to the bedroom, before coming back again.

You walked closer to him this time, face void of emotions and blanking staring at Gojo.

»Who are you?«

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@islesantuary

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