#hes just so big i need him to bang me against a wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wintaerbaer · 2 months

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bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.”

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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macfrog · 5 months

Text

sweet child o' mine | pt. i

purely just some fun and games putting big grumpy joel miller slap bang in the middle of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy. dedicated to big sis @mrsmando, who is the light of my life, let herself be completely swept away by this idea into unhinged, whimsical mania with me, and who inspired so many lil details for this story. love u, zhort x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you strike up a deal to attend a wedding with your neighbor as his date. what could go wrong?

warnings: age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), grumpy!joel initially finds reader mildly infuriating, cursing, alcohol consumption, discussion of a car accident (non-graphic) & dead parents, softdom!joel as per, fingering, handjob, comeplay, spitting, drunk unprotected one night stand, creampie, praise kink, one mention of nausea (but nothing happens, my little emetophobic angels), someone falls pregnant and it's not joel miller i'll tell you that much. honk if you love cats!!!

word count: 9.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s just gone seven on a Saturday night when his knuckles rap on your door.

The sun casts tall, angled shapes on your living room wall. Lights the pages before you in a glow of tangerine. Refracts through the glass tumbler on your coffee table and bleeds the amber liquid onto the pale wood surface. Everything lit in some variation of gold, everything bowing its head quietly as the day begins to turn its back.

The house is still. The world feels still, as though transitioning. Like you’re sat in a waiting room, leg bouncing, anticipating something you don’t know to look for yet.

Perfect, comfortable, still – until he’s on your porch. And he knocks again.

You snap your book shut and slide it across the table, nudging the heavy glass. The ice clinks, irritated.

“You mind fastenin’ your…delicates to your clothesline a little better?”

His voice shoulders its way into your hallway before you’ve even pulled the door back enough to see him. Not that you need to see him to know who it is. You’ve lived in Austin three years now and met only one person with a voice as low and toneless as Joel Miller’s. Slung in sarcasm, dripping with disdain. All that.

You cross your arms and slant against the doorframe, unable to mask your amusement. “Excuse me?”

He answers by lifting his left hand. From his pointer finger hang a tiny pair of white panties, lace pattern fluttering in the late summer breeze. You glance over his shoulder as you steal them from his grasp, balling them in your fist.

“Uhuh. They were sitting on my back lawn. I have company tonight, y’know. I can’t have women’s underwear just – lyin’ in my damn yard.”

Your head tilts. Ears prick. “Company? You hostin’ somethin’?”

His shoulders drop with a sigh. “No. I am not hostin’ anythin’.”

“Good. ‘cause I’d want an invite.”

“If I were hostin’, you’d be the last person I would invite. And you know that.”

“Ouch,” you pout, “that hurts, Miller. I watered your plants while you were off visiting your brother last month. They woulda died without me there.”

“And I am grateful to you,” Joel grumbles, “but that doesn’t mean I need those anywhere in view of my kitchen window.” He throws a pointed finger to your elbow, where your panties sit scrunched in your fist.

You look down to the froth of frill spilling between your knuckles, and back up to his dark features – his glower casting a shadow over the hazel eyes and deepening the creases between his brows. You smirk, a realization dawning.

Company – that he doesn’t want seeing a pair of someone else’s underwear.

“You have a date.”

Joel’s tongue flicks across the inside of his cheek. He glances over his shoulder and speaks through his teeth. “No, not a date,” he quietly tells the street.

“But you have a lady comin’ over. Or at least – someone you don’t want seeing these.” You unfold your arms and twirl your fist. The gentle wind lifts the lace.

He grunts. A low hmph. Agreement, you think.

“Sounds like a date.”

He hisses, “’s not a date.”

Your stare doesn’t slip from his. Not when his brows tighten, not when his jaw does, too. Not even when he sucks a breath between gritted teeth. Your smile widens.

Finally, with a sigh, he concedes. “It’s…it’s somebody Tommy ‘n Maria are tryna set me up with. Alright?”

“So – a date.”

“If you don’t –” Joel’s head flicks over to his own driveway at the same time his hand lifts, a pointed gesture you read as – shut the fuck up. “We’re just having a few drinks. Just – hangin’ out.”

“Just hangin’ out,” you repeat, eyes widening. “One-on-one. With some woman who – Wait, Tommy’s in Wyoming. How the hell do he and his wife know someone way the hell down here?”

“From before they moved. And – Maria ain’t his wife. Yet. They’re getting married next month.”

Suddenly the sun reappears over the dark horizon. The evening begins to clear up, make sense again. You lift your chin, nodding.

“Right, right. So, she gonna be your plus one, or…?”

The understanding raises his heckles again. Exasperated, he asks, “How many damn questions are you gonna –? I’m only here to – to return your –” He nods once more to the pale fabric in your hand.

A laugh shoots from your nostrils. “What’s the matter? You don’t like – whatever her name is?”

“Laura.”

“Laura,” you breathe.

“And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with her. She just – she…”

“She…?”

“She has, like, five cats, and it’s just…hair, everywhere. And at their engagement party, she spilled an entire margarita down me. Right down my –” He sweeps a hand down his front, balling his fists again once they reach the hem of his shirt.

Your lips turn, amused. “Five cats. Cat lady Laura. Well. Have fun, I guess. Thanks for these.”

He acknowledges your raised fist with a bashful glance. He’s already halfway down your front steps when he says, “Keep an eye on your laundry from now on,” and strides off back to his own place.

Joel has lived here his whole life. In Austin. You’ve no idea when he moved in next door, just that he was here when you did. You don’t know much about him at all – the fact he even filled you in enough to tell you about his date is shocking enough.

The day you first arrived, U-Haul truck squealing to a halt by the curb, he found himself unlucky enough to be stood in his front yard watering the blond patches of his grass. He saw you struggling to open the rear door of the truck, and with a grumble and a glance across the street for a more eager rescuer, he tossed his hose and came over to help.

He unclicked the heavy latch and pushed the door up with enough ease to put you to shame. And he seemed to feel some obligation when he saw the mass of belongings stuffed in the back, to help you unload them. Didn’t seem overjoyed by the thought, mind you, what with the sigh he let slip when you hopped up and held out the first box.

He indulged you for no more than one hour. Answered every question you had about the neighborhood, dodged every one about himself. He told you about the couple across the street with the newborn baby, told you about your neighbor on the other side who pretends to garden just so she can snoop on everyone else’s business. And as soon as the last box thudded down on your gleaming living room floor, he nodded, and paced back over to his own property.

He's a good guy. You know this much. He’s a dick to you most days, but he’s honest, and he’s kind when you catch him in the right light. He takes deliveries for you when you’re not home; he once drove Diane to the vets when she showed up on his doorstep in the dead of night, Fred the Jack Russell ailing in her arms.

He’s observant. Noticed just this summer the three different plumbers who showed up to your house in the space of two days, and came over as the third guy was leaving – his shining bald head low between his shoulders.

‘s the matter? Joel asked, watching the navy overalls sink into the rusted vehicle.

Kitchen sink’s leakin’. Fuckin’ – nobody can fix it.

He shouldered you out of the way with his then-trademark sigh and left twenty minutes later, your kitchen finally free of the dripdripdrip you’d been plagued with for a week straight.

He’s good. He’s a good neighbor. But, man, is he private.

You’ve never seen the inside of his place. His body blocks it anytime you’re on his doorstep. He has a brother, you know that – though, only since last month, when he asked you to keep an eye on his garden – and you know, now, that the brother is getting married.

You know that he likes country music, know he plays guitar – accidentally. You heard him one day in the spring, when he left his window open and you were lounging by your pool. When he looked out and noticed how you’d angled your sunbed to listen, really listen, he slammed it shut.

You know he’s single and childless and has been for at least the three years you’ve lived next door to him.

You know little fucking else.

The words on the curled pages seep into one another. You’re staring through the book now back in your hands, the shape of your living room blurring around you: the brick fireplace, the still, red light of the TV. The lulling sway of the sheer curtains, pushed like the tides by the air through the open window.

You cross your ankles on the coffee table. Your lips purse. Tongue dabs at the smoky-sweet singe of whiskey on the flesh of your cheeks. From here, you can see the street outside Joel’s house. If – when – Laura pulls up, you’ll know. And you’ll be here to watch. Survey. Observe.

See what kind of woman a guy like Joel Miller takes to his brother’s wedding.

It’s nine fifty-two when she eventually leaves.

She’s been in there two hours and seventeen minutes. Her car – a kind of rotten green Chevrolet with one tail light out – sits patiently out front, like even it can’t wait to help her fucking disappear.

You’re hoisting a swollen black bag down your drive when his porch light flickers on and his front door opens. The glossy plastic exhales as it slumps against the trashcan. You dust your hands. Joel hasn’t noticed you yet.

“…so nice gettin’ to properly know you,” Laura’s crooning, sidestepping as Joel walks calmly down to her car. Ushering her. You hold back a laugh.

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, his voice falling flat in the windless evening. He’s a step ahead of her, like a parent leading their child away from the park. She’s still babbling about his six-string.

“Maybe next time I can hear a little somethin’…” she says, and you know from the way he halts that Joel hears the same questioning tone you do, the way somethin’ curls up at its end.

“Maybe,” he says, curtly. His words curl down. And then nothing else, and Laura – who, now that she’s a little closer, stood on the curb by her car door, you notice has sweeping golden hair which flicks away from her plump cheeks, and bright eyes which dazzle in the dusky glow – is forced to cough up one last chance.

“I gave you my number,” she says, then, “I didn’t get yours?” and this time, it’s definitely a question.

Joel pretends to pat down his pockets. “I musta left my phone in the house.”

You can’t help it. A scoff bursts from your lips. But he still doesn’t look over.

“Well,” Laura tugs on the handle, “thank you for a lovely evenin’. I’ll hear from ya.”

Joel smiles but puts a hand on the door, like he might slam it shut for her if she tried to backtrack. But she doesn’t. She swings both legs in, pulls it closed, and the engine spurts to life.

As she pulls off, Chevrolet jolting a little, you notice the bright yellow bumper sticker plastered squint beneath the license plate. You walk silently over to Joel, grass prickly under your socks.

“Honk If You Love…Cats,” you murmur, shoulder brushing off his bicep.

He sniffs. Tightens the grip his arms have on his chest. His eyes are fixed on the one red light, slowly shrinking into the distance. “Don’t even.”

“Good date?”

“I said don’t.”

“She talk much about her cats?”

“Goodnight.”

“Did you ask their names, at least?”

He’s backing up, crossing the dark lawn towards his front steps. He looks you up and down, his lips a flat line. Your sweat shorts. Your bare legs. The tight vest top molded around your breasts. His eyes shoot back up. “No more questions. No more pesterin’ me.”

“Nothin’ about the cats? Seriously, dude?” You lift your arms, grinning after his dark figure, swaggering up the porch steps.

Joel ignores you. He disappears through his front door and the light is snuffed. You slink back up to your house, grateful for the blanket of darkness covering the skip in your step.

Eleven hours later, you’re stood in front of your bedroom mirror.

The day melts against your window. Brilliant blue sky, cradling soft puffs of snow-white clouds. Crows on Diane’s roof cawing, slowly yellowing trees rustling. The bright, hot square across your front where the sun forces her way in.

You turn, taking the loose hem of your sleepshirt in your fingers, and pull it over your body, tossing it to the foot of the bed as you examine the pattern of colors hanging from inside your closet.

You take them one by one, tug them free, slot them back in. Eventually you settle for a gray hoodie, cropped and loose. As you haul it from its hanger, there’s a whine from the wooden cabinet. A squeal. The top shelf rips from either side, dropping to the closet floor and taking the pole with it.

“What the f–? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you growl, stepping forward to run your fingers along the splintered wood where the nails have ripped themselves free. Four black holes, jagged insides of the closet pricking your fingertips.

The crumple of clothes and hangers sulks up at you pathetically. You fall back onto your bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. The fan whirs slowly, scooping your gaze and throwing it in lazy circles.

The closet was old, anyways. Was here when you moved. It’s probably about time you had some new ones built. But fuck, that’s gonna cost. Ripping the old ones out, building them from scratch. The fan pulls your eyes back around to twelve o’clock.

Joel’s a contractor. He could do ‘em. Might give you a discounted rate, too, for all the times you move his newspaper from his front lawn to his doorstep for him. Either that, or he’d want something in return. And what handy skills do you have? You once knitted a scarf for you grandma for Christmas. Maybe not Joel’s thing. You can cook mac ‘n cheese – though one lousy meal isn’t payment enough for an entire wall of solid wood, two panes of glass and two days’ labor.

A favor, maybe. An IOU. What the fuck kinda favor does Joel Miller need–?

You’re hopping over the tiny burst of hedge between his yard and yours before the thought is finished, bending to scoop his newspaper up and slotting it under your arm. He answers just as you lift your fist to pound on his door for a second time.

You slap the rolled paper into his chest. “I have an idea.”

He squints at you in the summer light. “Wh–? Didn’t I tell you not to p–?”

“I’ll be your date.”

Joel blinks.

“I’ll be your date,” you repeat. “I got a wardrobe needs replacing. You do it, for free, and I’ll be your date.”

“Your wardrobe?”

“Crapped out on me this mornin’. I don’t want to pay for some stranger who’ll overcharge me ‘n do a half-assed job. Fix it, ‘n you don’t have to take cat lady Laura to Tommy’s wedding. And you can fix my kitchen sink, too.”

“I already fixed your kitchen sink.”

“It’s back at it. Drippin’ all through the damn night. Drip drip drip –”

“Alright.” Joel’s palm is up again. He does that a lot when he’s talking to you. “Alright. Wardrobe ‘n sink.”

“We have a deal?” you ask, extending your hand.

His chest fills with a thoughtful breath. His eyes scan you up and down, lingering somewhere a little lower than your jaw for a second. And then, the heavy weight of his palm against yours. The tightening of his fingers around your wrist. One sure shake.

Deal.

Two weeks before the wedding, you’re at Joel’s door again.

He’s in a black tee, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair is damp, fringe still dripping onto his forehead. He runs a hand through the gray-singed brown and stares at the tangle of fabric slung over your arm. “The hell is this?”

“Do you know what you’re wearin’?”

His eyes roll up to meet yours. “Do I know what I’m wearin’?”

You nod. “You’re the best man. Guessing Tommy has you covered?”

“Black suit,” he says, after a beat.

“That’s it? He ain’t got no theme?”

Joel’s head cocks. “I don’t do themes.”

You roll your eyes, ducking under his arm fixed against the doorpost. He manages three words of protest and then shuts the door in resignation, turning to watch as you take his stairs two at a time.

“You are so damn annoyin’, you know that?” his voice echoes behind you.

“You want this date or not, Miller?” you call over your shoulder, following the route through the identical house to your own bedroom – thankful when you nudge the door and it opens to reveal his bland, colorless decor. “Very…gray,” you note, feeling the shadow of him over your shoulder.

You throw the dresses down on his bed, satin and lace and pink and green swimming between one another on his sheets.

“I’m not wearin’ a dress.”

You glower at him. “Ha. We have to match.”

He rubs the towel against the back of his head, drying the dark hair. “Match how?”

“Y’know, your suit ‘n my dress. If I’m your date, we have to match.”

“Already told you. I’m wearin’ a black suit.”

“Right. But, like – what color tie? And can it be any of these colors?” You hold your hands out, surfing over the sea of shades. “Maybe,” you lift your eyebrows, eyes darting to the pale teal color, “this one?”

Joel entertains you for all of five seconds, lifting his cheeks in a false grin before they deflate. “No. Black.”

“Joel.”

He slings the towel over his folded arms, and looks at you plainly. “Black,” he says again, in a tone of voice which sounds something like a door being slammed shut.

Your eyes thin, and you gather your dresses up in one swipe. “Can you just –? Will you make sure that you match my corsage, at least?”

“Why the hell are you so hung up on this?”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna make it believable. You turned down cat lady Laura, this is what you get.”

He sighs, tossing the towel over to his laundry basket. “I will make sure I match your corsage. Happy?”

“Happy. Are you ready?”

“Give me five minutes.”

You huff, head rolling back. “You are so prima-donna, Joel Miller.”

With a sarcastic chuckle, he shoves you out of his bedroom to get dressed. You saunter down his stairs, drinking in every detail of his home as though it’s the only chance you’ll get to see it.

It probably is, when you think about it. You don’t imagine he’ll be inviting you over for drinks anytime soon.

Your eyes move along the wall as you slowly thump down his stairs, thrown from framed photo to framed photo – a black and white photo of a man with a tousle-haired boy on his lap, the kid’s tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth as he wraps his small hand around the neck of a guitar; an out-of-focus Christmas photo, a family of four sat in front of a million multicolored orbs dotted along the branches of a tree; a kid with skinned knees crouched by a German shepherd, his lanky arms hooked around the dog’s thick neck.

One brown suede jacket hangs from a coat peg at the bottom, Joel’s boots sat loose and unlaced beneath. A dark blue blanket draped over the back of his couch. A painting of a moose over his fireplace. Shelves lining one entire wall decorated with carved-wood animals, with more photographs of times gone and memories made, with books and DVDs that lend your fingertip with a heap of white dust as you drag it across their spines.

Enough to paint a picture, not quite enough to show you the colors. The tones, the depth. Despite your best efforts, the man remains a mystery. You settle with the fact he will never be fully revealed.

The creak of his stairs turns your attention from the guitar on the wall around to his tall figure, fixing the collar of the loose flannel over his shoulders.

“You ready?” Joel asks, bending with a groan to reach for his boots.

“Yep,” you reply, leaning forward to glance into his kitchen while his head’s down. The most you manage to observe are the light drapes, the sunlight shooting through and bouncing off of a white-topped island.

“’s go,” he says, keys dangling from his finger.

It takes twenty minutes to drive to Home Depot.

You chitter in Joel’s ear the entire time, reading from his handwritten list of measurements and supplies needed for your new closet. ‘n how do you know this is all enough? Because I know. What if you get started and it’s not? I won’t; it’s enough. You sound so sure. That’s ‘cause I’ve done it before, kid. You take many closetless girls out on fake wedding dates, Joel?

“What’s our story, then?” you ask in the store, fiddling with hanging packets of door hinges while Joel reads thrice over his note. Your hand dives into the bag of M&M’s he begrudgingly bought you at a gas station on the way.

“Our story?” he mumbles back, the words slipping under the mental math you can see going on behind his eyes.

“Like, when people ask how we met. What’s our meet-cute? Both reached for the same door hinge, our hands touched and lit aflame? That kinda thing?”

He doesn’t laugh. Your smile dampens instantly. You kick his boot. “Joel.”

“’sec,” he frowns, “I’m focusing.”

You lean close, pushing on your toes to study the folded slip. His scrawled numbers, the pencil lines blunt and smudged in the creases of the paper.

“Twentytwofortysixeightyninetyfivesixhundredelevenfourtwelvenineteen–”

Joel’s lips seep a maddened sigh; he glances down the aisle like a store attendant might separate you from him if he demanded with enough passion, or maybe if he slipped them a twenty.

“Do you mind?” he barks, his expression a brick wall for your giggles to fall flat to the floor against.

“Home Depot’s your stomping ground. Why the hell do I gotta come watch you pick hinges and timber?”

“Because it’s your damn closet I’m fittin’. Just –” he swipes two packets from their peg, tossing them into the shopping cart, “– come on.”

Joel makes off down the muck-colored floor, the overhead lights reflecting harshly in the shiny surface. The front right wheel of the cart trembles as it rolls, nervously leading the two of you down an aisle lined with cylinder tins and pamphlets on Choosing the right finish.

“So, are your parents gonna be at this wedding?” you ask, taking the cart from Joel’s hands when he drifts off to study a shelf of wood varnish.

His jaw turns towards you, and then back to the tin in his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do I get to meet ‘em?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna introduce your date to your mom and dad?”

He scoffs, stealing a handful of candy. “My fake date?”

“They don’t know that. Let me meet Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”

He holds two tins up, offering them to you like answer to your question. “Matt or gloss? Guess it don’t really matter if I’m painting ‘em after.”

“Stop fuckin’ ignoring me. I hate when you do that.”

He leans in close, lowering the matt varnish into the cart. “You think I’m gonna introduce you ‘n your potty mouth to my mom?”

You smirk, eyes narrow. “Dick.”

“Funny. What color paint you want? You said something about duck egg?”

“Planning on repainting my room that color, yeah. Hey, you could –”

He swats your pointed finger away, taking the cart back. “We shook on new wardrobe. No changin’ the deal,” he mutters, wandering over to the rainbow of paint tins on the opposite side of the aisle.

You follow him over, eyes moving from blue over to green, the tins plastered with the fake smiles of families and fluffy pet dogs on the front. “Where are your mom and dad from?” you ask.

“Austin,” he replies, eyes squinting to read the small print on the back of one vibrant shade. You shake your head and guide his wrist back to the shelf, where he obediently sets the heavy tin back. “Never known anywhere else,” he adds. “What about you? Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Potty Mouth?”

“Uh,” you swipe at your nose awkwardly, “they’re up in Allandale. That’s where I grew up.”

“That so? I got a cousin who used to live that way. Used to take my bike up every Saturday. He lived right by this old car shop, all these old classics they used to fix up ‘n resell.”

“Yeah,” you say, “right next to the cemetery, right?”

“That’s the one,” Joel says, lifting paint tins to the light and setting them down again. “They live nearby?”

Your breathing shifts, starts to claw its way up your throat. Your chest heats, skin lighting with an irritating anxiety. “They’re, um,” you gulp, “they’re in the cemetery.”

Joel pauses, letting the tin slip from his grasp with an echoing thud against the wooden shelf which reverberates in your ears a second too long. “Oh,” he says, set on your expression.

“It’s okay – I don’t mind. It’s – it was a car accident, back when I was eight. I wasn’t in it, or anything. I grew up with my grandma. Really, Joel, I don’t mind,” you add, when his face falls and he begins to apologize.

“I had no idea,” he says, and you break the eye contact before you break a fucking sweat.

“’s all good,” you murmur, lifting paint tins of your own now, focusing on deblurring your glossy vision, “I got to buy a big house with the money they left.”

It thaws him a little. He snorts, and taps the lid of the tin you’re holding. “That one’s nice. You, uh – you okay?”

You finally turn back, the world clearer, colors no longer bleeding into one another through sharp tears. “Yeah. I’m fine. We got everything?”

Joel nods, and wheels the cart around. “You can meet her, if you want. My mom. She’s a little full on, but I reckon you can handle her.”

You smile, following him down the aisle.

A month after he delivered your underwear back to you, you’re back on Joel’s doorstep.

Your hand flicks nervously at your side as you wait for him to answer, petals of your corsage quivering. The clip of his footsteps echoes down the stairs, a deep sound growing louder and louder until the door clinks open and you’re separated only by air.

Joel’s eyes scan down your body at the same time yours scan down his. Black suit, sure enough, just without the jacket, and with his tie slung around his loose collar. You both freeze when your eyes meet again, your lips silently forming the shape of an avalanche of words that refuse to sound until Joel’s do.

“Wow, you –”

“– look great, I –”

“– nice dress, is that –? Sorry –”

“– no, I’m sorry, you were – sorry.” A laugh pushes from your throat. “You look – you look good. Scrub up well, ‘n all that.”

“You too. You – Yeah. That’s a nice color, after all. You suit it.” His eyes linger on your chest, your breasts draped in lustrous silk, decorated with the glint of golden jewelry. You notice.

“Thanks. After all?” You snort, and Joel’s exterior seems to crack a little.

He steps back, ushering you in. “Alright,” he says, taking the tote with your change of clothes from your wrist. He watches across the street as you step over the threshold, his fingertips light on your back as you pass by, like little shocks of lightning up your spine. “You know what I meant.”

Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heels clicking along his varnished floor. Your arms lock around your torso, holding your pashmina in place while Joel totters around, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. His shirt stretches from his tight waistband, fabric flattening against his tummy. Your eyes shoot north again when he speaks.

“You mind doin’ my tie? It’ll end up squint if I do.”

“Sure,” you reply, stepping forward.

He buttons the top of his shirt and lifts his chin, staring at the wall behind you as you tug on the black fabric, the silk slipping through your fingers. You steal glances at the trim of his beard, his pink lips beneath the dark bristles; the slope of his nose, the lines on his worn skin.

He’s rough around the edges, sure, a man in his late forties. But there’s something soft about him, something familiar and…comfortable. The pages of a used sketchbook, the lived-in material of a favorite dress.

You pull the knot higher until it’s sitting in the notch below his Adam’s apple, smoothing it down and giving his chest a light pat before stepping back again.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he mumbles, and a spark lights in your chest. “Oh,” he says, holding a finger up and disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a little white box, holding it out for you to see.

Your cheeks swell, eyes flitting up to acknowledge the proud look on his face. “Very nice. Good job.”

“You can do the honors,” Joel says, handing you the boutonniere by the stem.

You pin it through his lapel, straightening it with a focused glance. Joel’s eyes are on you, watching the flutter of your eyelashes, the tilt of your head. “There,” you whisper, leaning back.

He extends his elbow, something of a smile on his lips. You don’t see it often. It beckons a mirrored expression.

Arm in arm, Joel leads you out to the truck, where he helps you up and waits for you to scoop your dress into the footwell before closing the door. You watch patiently as he locks the front door, slings both your bags over his shoulder and jogs back to the truck, tossing them in the backseat before joining you in the front.

“How come he didn’t send a limousine? Or a Jag, or somethin’?”

“You think we’re made a’ money?” Joel asks, smirking.

You return the smile, wrapping your shawl over your body. “Can I pick the music?” you ask, earnestly, a tinge of sweetness to your voice.

Joel glances over again, reaches behind your headrest to reverse out of the drive. He runs his tongue along his top teeth. “No,” he says.

Three hours later, Tommy and Maria are married.

The wedding is…big. Joel’s family is big. The venue – a rustic hotel suite, fairy lights draped from the rafters, blooming flowers sprouting from crystal vases, lace tablecloths and tied chair cushions and wax dripping from thick, naked candles – is big.

Joel’s been good about it – that friendly neighbor you see all too little has been kicked into high gear. He delivered you by hand straight to his mom – a small woman with silver hair neatly twisted into an updo at the back of her head – who took your hand and held it tightly all the way to your seats.

Kind and warm, she asked where you were from, how you met Joel, how long you’d been dating. She offered you some tissues before the ceremony started, then winked and nodded in Joel’s direction as the bridesmaids swept down the aisle.

You lingered behind the photographer while he took photos of the wedding party, instructing them to shuffle a little closer, that’s it; ma’am, with the red hair, lower your bouquet a little; alright, now, everyone: big smiles!

You worried that Joel had kept the same placated smile frozen on his face for so long that it might never melt away, might never return to the stoic scowl you’re so used to seeing on him. You didn’t even realize you were staring at him, until he waved you down, flicked his hand, and beckoned you over to the group.

You hesitated. I don’t know if I –

Get over here, girl, Tommy had called, grinning alongside his big brother.

The two Millers slotted you in like a jigsaw piece between their bodies, two arms wrapped around your back – Tommy’s, loose on your shoulders, and Joel’s, tight around your waist. He held you close, squeezing you into his side while the photographer praised the party and snapped photo after photo, the flash burning into your eyes by the time he clapped his hands and thanked you all for your patience.

Drink? Joel had asked, and you’d responded with one thumb up, the other massaging your eyelids. He squeezed your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd of bodies.

He’s still over there – by the bar, a wooden structure draped in ivy and studded by steel bolts. His beer in one hand and your wine in the other. A lean, poised figure stood opposite him – her dress a royal purple, her hair a wave of brown spilling over her bare shoulders.

She’s beautiful – a striking charm which draws your eye to her like an arrow directly through the sea of bodies between here and there. Her languid movements, the slow roll of her neck to sweep the hair from one side of her body to the other.

Her head falls back in laugher, her bejeweled hand falls softly on his arm. Your throat closes sharply. Joel nods, angling as if to make off, but she holds onto him and leans in. He laughs, then, at whatever her full lips whisper into his ear, and he finally breaks off from her and returns to you.

He pushes the glass by its base across the smooth tablecloth. Your fingers brush over one another as you trade, the stem sitting between your index and middle. He’s warm, his knuckles kissing yours.

“How was it, then, talkin’ to my mom?” Joel asks.

You smile, propping your chin on the heel of your palm. “I like her. She’s funny.” And then, when he tosses his head in response, “Who were you talkin’ to?”

Joel follows your eyeline over to the woman in the purple dress. The glint of white crystal on her neck. The drama of dark hair on pale skin. “Uh,” he wanders around your back to his chair, “we used to work together.”

Your nails tap against the glass. “Oh, yeah?”

He sniffs. Doesn’t meet your eye. “Yep.”

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

He watches a blue orb dance over your head on the wall, a spot of light from the disco ball over the dancefloor. “Lotta memories.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes plummet. Fall from the string bulbs straight to your face, sparkling in the rainbow lights. “You want me to look at you? There.”

You grin. “’s better. If you stare up there long enough, they might stick.”

“Safer to have ‘em stuck on you, is it?”

“Mhm,” your voice echoes around the curve of your wine glass, “better view. So, who is she?”

Joel shifts uncomfortably. He twirls the bottle in his fingers. “We…we were together for some time. A few years.”

“An ex,” you muse, stain of lipstick left on the rim of your glass. “How many years?”

“Eight.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Eight – eight years?”

Joel nods, waiting for you to catch your breath. Expression never changing. Bottle still twirling. “Haven’t seen her in a while. We were just catchin’ up.”

“Eight fucking years. Why the fuck aren’t you married?”

He scoffs. “That’s a fifth-date question.” He lifts the bottle to his lips, tongue pushes against the glass.

“I don’t need five fuckin’ wardrobes,” you quip, and he laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. His head tips back, his teeth show. Your chest swells, confidence and relief blooming there. She didn’t make him laugh like that – not from where you were watching.

It becomes something of a mission in the back of your mind – tallying up how many times you can make his chest shudder, his shoulders jerk. How many times he leans in closer and repeats whatever you said, eyes closing over and hand hitting his thigh. How many times he looks at you and your stomach flutters, the blood cartwheels through your veins, the bones of your ribcage readjust and make room for the swelling of your heart.

Within four rounds, you’ve lost count.

The thudding beat of the music muffles in your drunken ears, like it’s coming from the next room. Your gaze fixes on the vase in the center of the table, the bouquet spilling over the glass. The wide burst of speckled lilies, the humble blush of tulips between. The colors soften and blur the longer you stare at them.

The jerk of Joel’s shoulders stirs you from your daydream. That’s one more.

“What?” you ask, head rolling to look over to him.

“You still in there?” he asks, one word slurring into the next like waves lapping.

You scoff, looking back to the pink flowers. “You know who has tulips?” you ask him.

He lifts his eyebrows. Who?

“Alice.”

“Brown?”

Your head nods heavily. “One time, she was out getting her mail, and I had just pulled up in my car on the phone to my best friend – he’d just broken up with his girlfriend, it was a whole thing…” You bat your hand. “Anyway. She pretended to tend to her tulips for forty-five minutes while I sat talkin’ to him in the driveway.”

Joel’s head tilts back with a burst of laughter. “She hear every word?”

“Every – damn – word. Stood by the fence listenin’.”

“That woman is som’ else,” Joel says, shaking his head. He stares down at the bottle between his fingers. His thumbs play with the curled corner of the label. “Didn’t I warn you about her?”

“Mhm.” You smile, realizing he has the same memory that you do, locked up somewhere in his mind. The sweat running down his temple, the dark patch between his shoulder blades. His hands gripping the heavier boxes, leaving you to carry the linen, the base of a lamp. Nodding as he wandered back over to his own porch, calling back for you to Holler if you need anythin’.

The high squeal of the Sweet Child O’ Mine intro snaps you back to the wedding reception. Tommy and Maria are playing air guitar on the dancefloor over Joel’s shoulder. You unstick your gaze from his white shirt, unsure how long you’ve been fucking staring.

Joel sits forward, drags his chair across the polished floor closer to you. He fixes the strap on your dress, untwisting it before settling back again. Your eyes follow his fingers as they leave your shoulder and sit back on the curve of his thigh, lifting when his voice breaks through to your eardrums.

“What room number did you say you were, again?”

Your shoulders roll. “Thirty-four, I think.”

Joel nods. Points to himself. “Thirty-six.” And then he glances over his shoulder, watches as Tommy kneels before Maria and rocks his head, his messy mop of hair tossed across his shoulders. The older Miller brother turns back. “Think they’ll miss us if we call it a night?”

“We’re callin’ it a night?”

“Figure if I’m headin’ off then you won’t wanna be sat here by yourself,” Joel says, and he’s right. He stands up, sets the half-empty bottle on the tablecloth and stares down at you. “I’m callin’ it a night,” he tells you. “You comin’?”

The colors in the room spin like the reels of a slot machine. Your fingers sit lightly in his outstretched palm, and you pull yourself up alongside him.

“’s a good girl,” he mutters, looking over your shoulder to the doorway, and your eyes sober up long enough to catch the flicker in his eye.

You totter along the hallway, arm in arm, anchoring yourselves together. Whichever way one sways, the other inevitably follows. You’re laughing, and Joel’s hushing you, warning that there are folks tryna – tryna sleep, we’re in a fancy place, hey, da-rlin’, no – you gotta shhhut up.

“Great party,” you decide, finally docking against your door.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, leaning a little on the wall. The gentle glow of the hallway lights him perfectly; the strong angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. The hazel pools that make up his irises, the swollen circles of black in the middle. And the twinkle in them, like the moon reflecting on dark water, every time his gaze lifts to you.

He’s different tonight. Maybe it’s the alcohol. The way it colors everything in a peachy film, all objects softened and rosy and shapeless. But he feels different, too. You suddenly realize, shoulder pressed hard against the cold doorframe, that you’ve never touched one another more than you have today. His elbow in yours, his arm around your waist, his hand through yours as you danced together.

“Are you tired?” you ask, head rolling.

“Tired? No. Drunk, yeah. Not tired.” He laughs again. It’s infectious.

“You wanna come inside?” you ask, words leaping from your giggle.

He takes ten seconds to consider it. Slumps into the wall, steadied only by his forearm pushing him back upright. His watch face catches the light behind him.

“Yeah. Fuck yeah, I do.”

Your hand fumbles in your clutch for the keycard, swiping the handle and pushing down heavily. You spill into the dark room, light sneaking in from the sconce outside your window, and spin back to face him, his hand locked tight with yours.

Joel follows you slowly as you back towards the bed, kicking your heels off and tripping over the skirt of your dress. When your legs hit the plush mattress, his body leans into yours. Your lips ghost across his, your words pushing them apart one by one.

“This ain’t – part of the – agreement,” you murmur, the coarse hair of his beard scratching your chin. You pull apart his tie, loosening the knot.

“Changed my mind,” he replies, collapsing on top of you on the bed.

Your head rolls back when his lips suck into your neck. You wrestle with his belt, with the waist of his suit trousers. “No changin’ the deal, remember?”

“Tell me to stop.”

If you had any intention of answering him, your body overrides it. Words lassoed and dragged back down where they came from, your throat opening only to gasp when Joel’s teeth graze the flesh of your breast. His fingers tug on the straps of your dress, letting them fall from your shoulders until your chest sits exposed.

He drags his tongue along your skin, dipping between your tits while his hands massage them, fingers pinching your nipples. Your back lifts and his hands move beneath, following the curve of your spine to where your dress pools loose around your waist. He pushes down, slinking the smooth fabric from your body.

“You fuckin’…” He clicks his teeth, laughing behind them. Another flush of heat washes over your skin.

You giggle, bending your knees to cover the lace panties he knows all too fucking well. Joel stops you, pushes your legs back down with two heavy hands.

“Don’t get shy now, baby,” he murmurs, opening your body up again. “You were so happy about me seein’ ‘em a few weeks ago, no?”

“’s different,” you reply, tang of alcohol fueling your words, “now I just want you to take them off me.”

He cocks his head, drinking every word you’re handing over like it’s water from an oasis. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t you?”

You pull him closer by the collar and line your mouth against his, the tip of your tongue wetting the inside of his lips. “You got no fucking idea,” you whisper, whipping the shirt from his torso.

Joel growls, flipping you over and pulling you by the shoulders flush against his chest. You hook an arm around his neck, turn to grant him access to your lips. He kisses you like a starved animal, savoring every taste, teeth nipping at your tingling lips.

His hand curves around your hips, pushing beneath your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger pushing on the spongey hood of your clit. Your head falls limp against his collarbone, back arching as Joel holds you steady with an arm around your waist.

“’s alright, baby,” he coos, his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna take good care of ya. Gonna give you what you need, alright?”

A strangled moan unravels across your tongue, echoing into Joel’s mouth. Your hips begin to gyrate, meeting the rhythm of his hand, his finger massaging rough circles into your clit. He smirks, peeling the panties down your thighs.

“Attagirl,” he breathes, “you want it bad, huh? Gettin’ so worked up so fast. Here.”

He removes his hand from between your legs, ignoring your moan of protest and replacing it with two fingers on your bottom lip. “Open,” he instructs, and you obey like a fucking dog. He slips them in, thick and heavy, and waits for you to coat them with your wine-stained tongue.

Joel pushes down, forcing a muffled gag from your throat which lifts the corners of his mouth. He shakes his head lightly, whispering, “You got it, ‘s okay.”

A thread of saliva strings between his fingers and your lips when he lowers his hand again, trailing his fingers through your folds until he’s dancing along the seam of your cunt. You jolt forward; Joel hauls you back.

“Just fucking – do it,” you whimper, your walls clenching around nothing.

He holds his fingers together, curling and inserting them in a painfully slow motion. Your knees widen on the mattress, body sinking down by instinct to meet his fist, to feel his thick fingers and wide knuckles as deep as they’ll go.

You gasp when Joel begins hooking them inside you, nudging against your walls like your heartbeat against your clit. Your hand lowers, slipping beneath his loose waistband, beneath the elastic of his boxers and around his already solid cock.

Joel groans, fucking you harder on his hand. “Fuck, just like that, baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Uhuh,” you reply, voice wanton and broken.

You squeeze him, your fist moving up and down, his warm skin following the movements of your tight grip. His tip is already soaked, precome staining his underwear, dribbling down your thumb.

Joel uses his free hand to shove his pants down, crumpling on the floor at his feet when they free his cock. You carve your mouth around his, the two of you exchanging breath and flicking your tongues together as you fuck one another’s hands, the room slowly filling with the hot, muggy smell of sex.

Joel’s the first to cave. With a jerk of his hips, he takes you by the wrist and frees himself from your clutches.

“You’re gonna make me come, darlin’,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from your cunt.

“That’s kinda the point here,” you reply, teeth bumping into his in a grin.

Joel shakes his head, lifting his hand, glistening with your arousal. “Gotta feel this fucking pussy first.”

You smile, parting your lips for him for the second time, suckling on his fingers and licking them clean of your own salty slick. His cock draws sticky trails on the seam of your thigh.

“Yeah,” Joel breathes, eyes fixed on the place where you close around him, “that good, baby? You gonna let me taste you?”

You release his fingers and he pulls you in, tongue slipping against yours with a groan which vibrates against your jaw. When your lips part, you hold your mouth open, your tongue sat on your bottom lip.

Joel reacts instantly, collecting a bead of saliva in front of his teeth and letting it drop into your mouth. You moan and swallow it, a cocktail of beer and whiskey and slick. Joel watches as you lick your lips, the stained-pink coated in a thick, white shine.

“Alright,” he says, letting you fall forward onto the bed. He jacks himself a few times, spitting into his hand and using it to coat his cock.

“Want you to come in it,” you whine, wiggling your ass for him as he lines up at your slit. You can feel the arousal gathered on his tip, dripping down your cunt.

“Yeah, baby,” Joel growls, a smirk on his lips as he watches himself slowly disappear inside you. And then –

You both fall silent, mouths hanging wide open as you each feel the width of his cock and the tightness of your cunt. The way your body opens up to accommodate his size, the direct pain and ethereal pleasure of Joel pushing into you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your pussy drawing him in with a sweet, wet sound. “Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. So damn gorgeous in that dress.”

You slowly move your hips back to meet him at the base of his cock; dark, trimmed hair bristling against your lips. Joel’s hands lock around your waist, holding you steady with his entirety buried inside, letting you adjust to him.

He’s so fucking big, so wide and deep that your breath tears rugged from your lungs, barreling up your windpipe. Your walls squeeze tight as he pulls out like your body refuses to let him go, like your cells understand better than you do that you were made for this – made for him. Like the only place in the world that he belongs, is somewhere deep inside you.

So big that it hurts, each time he fills you up and stretches you wide open. The pain an eye-rolling, lung-closing, limb-shaking sensation.

Your elbows give, falling chest-first onto the mattress while Joel fucks you hard, his hands gripping your hips. Your cheek and breasts flat against the sheets, your back arched. He slams into you, edging you closer and closer with each meeting of his warm skin against yours, each sopping slap of come and saliva.

The mattress shifts above your head, two valleys where his palms push down heavily, then the weight of his body at the back of your thighs. He towers over you, hips hammering so hard that you’re forced to hook your fingers around his wrists just to stay on the same fucking planet.

“Gonna – fuckin’ – come – baby,” he spits, his jaw locked tight. “You want it in this little pussy? You think she can take it all?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the edges of your words rounded by the silk sheets. “Joel, I – fuck –”

“Yeah, she can,” he agrees, playing with the hair spilling across your shoulders and taking it in a fistful.

The hazy drunken blur begins to turn over in favor of something sharper, something electric pulsing through your veins. Every part of your body alive, everything rising to meet the same high, the same release. You cling onto him, body beginning to melt beneath his.

Joel’s lips press between your shoulder blades. “Don’t fight it, baby, let go. I got you.”

You moan his name in one last pathetic attempt before the world whitens. You clench around him as a deafening orgasm shocks through your body, curling your back and forcing your nails deep into Joel’s wrists.

“Fuck, baby, fuck me,” Joel gasps. He slams into you one final time before you feel the staggered pump of his come flooding between your walls. “Ahh,” he groans, pushing apart your ass cheeks to watch the trickle seep from your cunt. “Good fucking girl. Take it, baby. That’s my girl.”

He turns you over onto your back and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him against your body as he thrusts into you again, tenderly pushing his spend deeper inside. It draws a strained moan from your throat.

“’s alright,” he coos, hips slowing against yours, “just feel it, baby. You feel how deep I am?”

“Uhuh,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, damp with sweat.

“So fuckin’ full of me,” he says, more to himself, before collapsing alongside you, holding your thigh on his hip, his tip still sheathed inside you.

You lie like that for a while, listening to the distant hum of music from downstairs, the party still raving in the belly of the hotel while you two lay in content bliss somewhere in its ribcage. Tracing one another’s features, learning the lines on Joel’s face, the flecks of gray in his eyebrows – all the parts you’re never close nor brave enough to get to know.

His right hand massages your plush waist, his left arm a pillow to rest your heavy, dizzy, drunk head on.

“I wanna do it again,” you whisper, the words sneaking out between heavy breaths.

Joel nods. His bottom lip sticks with sweat to yours. His hips push a little neater into you. “I wanna do it again, too.”

“I wanna do it all night.”

He hasn’t stopped nodding. He shrugs, tightens his grip around your shoulders, and tilts his head. “Then let’s do it all fucking night,” he says, and his lips slam back into yours.

The morning after the wedding, Joel drives you home. The truck soars down the highway, the two of you an uncomfortable distance apart. The same sobering distance you’ve kept all morning – the unreal aftermath of sex.

The rolling waves of bedsheets between your bodies; the sun sifting her long fingers through his hair as she peered through the curtains. The way you’d silently pushed yourself from the mattress, fragmenting your movements and allowing the spring to dip a fraction at a time so not to wake him. The spongey feel of the hotel carpet under the balls of your feet as you’d tottered to the bathroom. The sharp shot of the lock sliding into place, echoing like a bullet.

He waited until you finished showering to get ready himself. Sat on the edge of the bed patiently and watched your shadow beneath the door, the to-and-fro of your silhouette breaking the sliver of golden light as you dressed your sticky body. When you pulled on the metal lock again, he was sat on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose. His bare shoulders were curved, and tanned. You blinked twice to store the image and turned away as he stood.

He says he feels hungover. You say you do, too. It’s the closest you come to talking about it. You hop out of the truck in his drive, your tote bag hooked on your shoulder. The canvas gnawing at the silk inside. Joel tells you he’ll see his end of the deal through in a couple weeks.

“Real busy with work,” he mutters apologetically, his wrists still balancing on the steering wheel.

“That’s good,” you tell him, nodding. “I ain’t in any rush. I know where you live, so.”

A relieved laugh pushes from his lips. “I will get to it,” he assures you.

You shrug casually. “Whenever, Joel.”

You don’t talk for a few days. A few days bleeds into three weeks. You find yourself stood by his front tires, throwing his newspaper onto the porch and scampering when it lands. The noise like a bomb dropping.

Slowly, as the month draws on, you become braver and braver – daring closer and closer to his front door, until you’re back to marching up the steps like you own the place, depositing the roll on his doormat. Rubbing your thumbs against your fingers to feel the ink like satin.

The door cracks open as you make your way back down his steps one bright morning.

“Hey, kid,” Joel murmurs, reaching down for the paper with a groan.

“Hey.”

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, leaning his forearm against the door.

Your head tilts back and forth, your hand lifting to shield your eyes from the sun. “Think I ate som’ bad, maybe. Weird stomach this mornin’.”

Joel’s chin angles. “Hope it ain’t contagious. Was thinkin’ I could get that closet started for you, maybe tomorrow?”

The offer takes you off guard. You buffer for a few seconds before answering, “Sure. Sure, just, uh – just come over whenever, I guess.”

“Nine work for you?”

You nod. “Nine’s good. See ya then.”

It’s something like nine when you find out.

You wake feeling groggy. Tired, sluggish. A heavy ache pulling on your breasts as you rise from bed, tender and swollen. You stand in the bathroom, milky morning light filtering in through the doorway, and your stomach lurches. Waves of nausea deep in your belly, rocking back and forth, swirling and spiraling.

You’ve a box under your sink. It makes sense. Before Joel was some date from Hinge, who fucked you against the wall of his living room and who snored so loud that you left before the sun came up. Negative. Like always.

But it never hurts to be sure.

The pack tears like it’s liquid in your hands. Peels back to reveal the plastic white test, the bubblegum pink cap – like it’s something fun and sweet to place the direction of your future into this little device. A clinical compass needle.

Three to five minutes. You set it down on the counter and drag yourself back through to your room, lifting your bedsheets, tucking them under the mattress, heaving your pillows back into place against the headboard. An uncomfortable heat boiling under the surface of your skin, a prickle of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck.

A sickly taste harboring on your tongue, you pad back to the bathroom and swipe the test up. Your eyes scan past the result window to the counter as you reach for your toothbrush – and then snap abruptly back to the tiny oval. Your outstretched hand freezes in midair. There’s no fucking w–

Your arm swings back to reach for the light cord. The bulb hesitates – flickers, like it’s unsure whether to reveal the truth to you. It knows something you don’t. It’s seen something it doesn’t want to show you. You stare at the pregnancy test.

Two little pink lines stare back. And Joel knocks at your door.

#forgive me for it not being clm or sof #they're coming very soon i promise #this was too fun an idea not to chase #i have the attention span of my labrador retrievers (nil)#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller

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lovedazai · 2 months

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REUNITING AFTER MEURSAULT

ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor + f!reader, desc. of blood & injuries, a little suggestive in chuuya’s part, au where fyodor survives wins in his part, s5 e61 & manga spoilers

DAZAI can’t believe he’s finally back home. your living room has never felt so cozy, with all the little pieces of your daily routine scattered around him. the same couch that he once complained was too small for his lanky legs feels heaven sent beneath him. his splinted leg is straightened in front of him, the other bent over the side of the cushions lazily.

he despised his tiny cell in meursault, with its transparent walls and bland food. it was impossible to sleep without you, waking up every hour and reaching over to empty, cold sheets. he only found solace in the messages ango left him ensuring your safety, and he left him secret codes to deliver to you in return.

it was like torture not being able to see you, not being able to touch you. he didn’t even feel the ache in his injured leg when you jumped into his arms when he first arrived home, holding you tighter than ever before. he never wanted to let you go again, but you slipped out of his grasp despite his whines, insisting on making him something homemade to eat after he snuck one last kiss.

even two rooms apart, his eyes never leave you. they trail down the curve of your spine, tracing the slope of your hips and the way they melt into the soft skin of your thighs. he’d yearned for the feeling of your skin beneath his hands every single day he was gone, and all he wants to do now is slide them around your waist. they’d fit perfectly there, like they always do; you were made for him, he swears it.

he thinks you look angelic when you turn towards him, with your pretty face enveloped by wisps of steam from the pan in front of you. a smile curls up on his lips instinctively when your gaze finds his, and he sits up.

“osamu,” you point your wooden spoon at him, spotted with miso and slices of green onion. he freezes, eyes big and blinking. “don’t move. you know you need to rest your leg.”

the cushions sink beneath him as he throws himself backward, a whine slipping through his pouted lips. “but i miss you, bella! i need your love to recover!”

he hears the click of the stove turning off and the soft clatter of you spooning his food out of the pan first, then the quiet steps of your socked feet approaching him. the bowl is hot against his hands when you hand it to him, full of warm, fluffy rice and fried vegetables.

your thigh presses against his as you sit on the edge of the couch. he’s blowing away the steam when you brush his bangs back, and he turns to you curiously. your thumb traces the spot chuuya’s bullet struck him, leaving behind a dull bump and a patch of discolored skin. you lean forward, delicately pressing your lips to the small bruise.

even after all this time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to how gently you treat him, or the sheer amount of love he can feel through your every action. his palms are warm from the bowl when he cups your cheeks, pouring every part of himself he can into a kiss. you let him tilt your jaw and part your lips with his own, exhaling shakily through your nose.

you bury your head in his neck to ground yourself, breathing in the scent of him; not the smell of stale prison air and blood, but the mix of his body wash, the shampoo he stole from you, and his fresh, sterile bandages. he lets you hold him, even as his food cools against his lap.

“did you know?” you whisper, and he hums against you. “that you’d be come back?”

“no,” you can feel his bittersweet smile against your temple as he presses a kiss there. “not completely. but you trusted me, right?”

“always,” he feels the vibration of the world against his chest. “you just scare me sometimes. i need you, osamu. i can’t do this without you.”

“you won’t ever have to,” he squeezes you tighter against himself, eyes closing as he presses his nose into your hair. “just keep your trust in me. please.”

CHUUYA hated being away from you during the best of times. even a crowded sidewalk is enough for a gloved hand to stay pressed against your lower back, keeping you at his side.

the only place he can be completely certain you’ll be safe is with him on a regular day, and it heightens tenfold when half of his subordinates have turned into vampires. when mori calls him, telling him he’d have to fly out to europe, he stalls by the door to cup your cheeks, looking directly into your eyes.

“promise me something,” he whispers. “don’t open the door. don’t leave. just stay here, and if something goes wrong, you call ane-san. got it?”

“only if you promise to come back to me,” you whisper back. “or i’ll go over there and get you myself.”

he leaves with a desperate squeeze to your waist and a firm kiss goodbye, his promise pressed against your lips. he keeps it faithfully, welcomed home by you rushing into his arms as soon as he opens the door hours later, crying into his chest with a mumbled sob of his name.

“what’s wrong?” he pulls your face up to look at his. even with the smirk curled on his lips, you can see the relief in his eyes that he’s home, with you in his reach. “you didn’t think me and that shitty mackerel would lose, did you?”

“never,” you sniffle. you brush your fingertips through his bangs, holding his face between your palms. he doesn’t mind that your nose is running a little bit when you kiss him. the cool leather from his gloves sinks into your warming skin as he cups the base of your skull, his thumb tracing along the soft cartilage of your ear.

“god, chuuya,” he smells like smoke and metal when you pull back, and you can only imagine what he’s gone through the past few hours. “i was so scared you’d get caught.”

“you know i’m not going anywhere,” he mumbles, thumb stilling against the pulse point of the side of your neck. “no one can take me away from my best girl.”

you tilt your head, tracing the corner of his lips with your fingertip, a small, teasing smile growing on your own. “you kept these on?”

he frowns, tongue poking at the fangs stuck to his teeth. “i can’t get them off. boss used fuckin’ super glue.”

“don’t,” you thread your hand through the long pieces of hair, twirling them through your fingers and pulling them over his shoulder. “you look sexy like this.”

“i do?” he leans closer, until his nose brushes yours, and squeezes your hips, fingertips spreading towards your rear. “what else?”

“we’re going to open the good wineー” you grin, draping your arms around his shoulders.

“my good wine.”

“our good wine,” you giggle, kissing his nose. “because i want to forget this whole shitshow ever happened and show my new vampire boyfriend how hot he is after he saved the world.”

“it was no big deal,” he grumbles, cheeks dusted pink as he looks down at your feet, stroking your hips in small circles. “but if you want to celebrate, then i guess we can.”

you cup his cheeks, peppering kisses all over his face. one to the bridge of his nose, another to the straight edge of his eyebrows, then another on the dip of his cupid’s bow.

“alright, alright,” he cups your jaw, pulling you back to his lips for a proper kiss. “c’mon. show me how much you really missed me.”

when FYODOR reaches to open the hideout door, he uses his right hand out of habit.

he looks at it with disdain as it throbs painfully against the ill-fitting bandages, white cotton heavy with blood and in need of a change. he wasn’t used to pain like this, and he swears he’ll never let himself come to physical harm again. he can’t afford to be so careless.

his eyes fall back to the door. you’re waiting for him behind it, aren’t you? he’d taken every precaution he could think of when he left you. it wasn’t like him to overcompensate, but you seemed to be the exception for everything.

he’d flown through the night to get back to you, and when he twists the doorknob open, he’s met with sunlight from the open blinds. he feels something he can’t explain settle in his stomach at the sight of you, safe and sound, curled in a blanket on the couch, one of his books on your lap. he thought you would’ve loved the starry sky outside of meursault, beautiful and unpolluted, but something about you in the glow of golden hour, coating the room in honey, felt more appropriate for someone as sweet as you.

“fedya?” your voice is still soft with sleepiness, lips trembling around the sweet nickname.

he smiles, but it drops as his vision swims and the room tilts as you dash off the couch and lunge at him. he steadies his wobbly legs as you wrap yourself completely around his lithe torso, his body weakened from blood loss and pure exhaustion.

“hello, my dear,” he kisses the top of your head, inhaling deeply. you smell so much sweeter than the stale air of meursault’s basement, and he catches the lingering scent of black tea in the air. he pets your head with his good hand, letting you bury your face into his chest, even if he wishes you wouldn’t. he didn’t want you to dirty your pretty face on his prison uniform, still damp from dazai’s trick.

when you pull away, your eyes are glassy, drawn to the saturated bandages and their stark contrast against his pale skin.

“oh my god,” he narrows his eyes at your language as you grab his wrist. “fedya, your hand…”

you push him down firmly to take a seat on the couch. closer to his height, you cup his cheeks, looking at him like you can’t believe he’s truly there. you kiss his forehead, lips lingering before you mumble a quiet “i’ll be right back.”

when you return, it’s with a first aid kit and another cup of tea. your eyes water as you unwrap the messy bandages from his hand, taking in the sight of his bloody, marred skin.

“you can’t afford to lose this much blood,” you whisper.

“it’d be ideal if i didn’t lose any blood at all. wouldn’t you agree?” he smiles, but you don’t reciprocate. this close, you look more exhausted than anything else, and he frowns that he didn’t notice sooner; you were worried sick about him, weren’t you?

“what if you died?” you ask, voice breaking around the words.

he cups your cheek with his good hand, thumb brushing beneath your tired eyes. he frowns at the thought of you losing sleep over his return without him being there to soothe you. he can tell you’ve been restless, with the mess of his books scattered around the room, the papers on his desk clearly reorganized and studied over in his absence.

“that’d never happen,” he presses his thumb firmer into your cheek, raising your gaze to meet his. “not yet. i still have to be here for you.”

you re-wrap his hand gently, more gently than anyone else has ever dared to touch him. your fingers are tender as they graze his skin, cotton and ointment cooling against his burns. you tighten it securely, finishing with a press of your lips against the bandages before you cradle it gently in your lap.

his eyes grow heavy, and before he realizes it, he’s falling forward, head landing on your shoulder. he scolds himself again, but it’s different this time. he’s safe here. your lips brush his temple, hands rubbing on his shoulder as you lean back, taking him with you.

“you can rest now,” your voice is soft, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed hearing it. you press a kiss to the crown of his head, exhaling deeply as your lips linger. he feels the kind of warmth you can only get from laying next to another body. your hand trails up the relaxed curve of his shoulder blades until your fingers thread through his hair. “you’re home, fedya.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #dazai x you #chuuya x you #fyodor x you #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #dazai osamu x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #fyodor fluff

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anantaru · 8 months

Text

MR. & MRS. RAGNVINDR

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — following your wedding with your soulmate diluc ragnvindr, you find yourself celebrating your new bond on your wedding night.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 1.2k

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — repost of one of my favorite fics of mine <3

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, very soft but also rough idk, he calls you: my wife

"d—diluc.."

a short heaved dwindle of air runs over diluc's neck as he sensually places a kiss on your cheek— right then you taste the transparent love his person held towards you and it flickers and bleeds into your skin featherlight, bodies intertwined and moving in a passionate conjunction.

the crawl of his longing for you wordlessly webs and adjusts to both your saturated cunt and his cock pressing close, breathing clear wrecked with your pulse heightened.

"it's not necessary to use my name." he corrects you, slurred, "i'm your husband now, don't tell me you forgot already?"

and diluc shyly smirks into your lips as he pulls himself into your spongy cunt and expertly wiggles his hips to make sure you're sensing it, all of him, but most efficiently his need and desire to make you, his precious wife, cum and thoroughly pleased.

you try again, trying your utmost hardest to voice anything with your wet lips being perked up all prettily in a well formed pout, holding yourself tight against your husbands body as he worked you both to an everlasting climax. your nails clawed on his defined back and wielded razor sharp scratches on his skin— while between you and him, diluc loved the burn on his flesh the second you claim and mark him up in that precise manner.

"my husband.." the red haired cocks a brow and lifts his head off your neck upon gathering your words, "yes, my wife?"

his cheeks are flushed and couldn’t possible be hidden from you while his pace on you had gotten steadier and pathed faster, and he makes sure to circle his hips whenever he pushes himself in completely, whenever your warm and wet walls would shape and set just right around his shaft.

"i love you." a shaded stream of higher pitched whines and sniffles float around the humid room as diluc groans at this one particular sentence that would always manage to give him the purest kind of intimacy and love. "i love you too."

of course he does, diluc ragnvindr has been making it very obvious each and every day. but tonight, he wanted to make this special day even more extraordinary— while most importantly, was diluc eager to show you all of his skills and tricks in a whole different scenario.

by all means, as one might have already deducted, you two have been intimate in the past, many many times before, while now the pleasuring feeling was growing a tenfold and much more intense, as if you were going to explode from his tip pushing and passing the tight ring of your pussy.

diluc silently wraps your body into his arms and pushes himself forward until you‘re practically squished in between the mattress and his chest— well, breathing room although limited, with the new acquired position he was now able to reach deeper and better into your cunt. his eyes are flickering down on where your softness was constricting and spreading nice and wide, he was so big and you tremble when he began to move once again.

his hips too, were unstoppable and skilled in what they did and your honeyed cries— your moans and begs, fuck, they were his all out favorite if he had to choose one instance, especially when you spelled out the new title he only took possession off tonight.

"this.." it's disgustingly delightful when he speaks within groans, "this is forever." you gush on him and a silent scream rumbles in your belly.

"we're forever."

lustfully— and punctuated, he rolls his girth back into you and scratches your walls, the pink tip repeatedly mushing in your wet spots and interlacing with you. underneath his bangs, you find his eyes aflame, warm and flowing because diluc couldn't get enough of watching you— your squeezed eyes reeking in crystallines from an unfaltering overstimulation, or those lips he had kissed many times before now apart and gifting him with hazed hordes of winces and moans.

sweat matted itself on your coruscating bodies but it only forced your hips to retract their position and close a little up, so you could fuck yourself into him and meet his piercing pace half way. "archons— fuck!" you can feel every twitch on his length and you're clearing his shaft with your liquids, subsequently leaving it to prance down your thighs and stick on the mattress.

"fuck— diluc!" your body suddenly jolts in a manifold of cabling tingles at your lovers following thrust, it was rougher than his usual ones, as if he was trying to silently tell you that you, again, addressed him wrong.

"I'm sorry." you throw your hips upwards and hear him groan repeatedly, signaling his climax benching in his core, "my husband." though you whimper, you spread your legs apart for him more and left it to diluc and his new feral pace to taunt you wider, convulsing on his creamy cock plastered with your slick.

"where— where do you want me, my wife?" his nails sink into your thighs to practically push you back and forth his cock, his head thrown back and exposing his well formed adams apple bobbing up and down. "inside, need it inside, please!"

changing the angles, diluc shifts on the bed, after all, he wants to obey to your requests and split your entrance to make proper space for his smooth cum stuffing you right. he tilts his head back towards you and suffocates the distance of your lips to kiss you when you both deliriously moan into each other and nod frantically, his first spurts of thick cum rushing into you.

the large wave of your own climax was then sneakily closing on your body as you shivered under the towering hold of your lover, your screams loud and hazy, jamming hard as you both fucked yourself through your orgasm.

your toes curl inwards as your legs flew up to clench around his hips, barely comprehending the soul touching stir as he kept fucking you through it all, your bodies drenched in cum and slick but none of you seemed to care, it was the least of your problems, if anything, it wasn't to be called a problem at all.

"fuck, fuck!" it's such a shame you couldn't listen to his whines forever on end, how filthy someone so well behaved like diluc ragnvindr himself could sound at times.

"kiss me again." he asks and you listen, pulling him close for a wet, sloppy peck that was more teeth and tongue than anything else. you snap your fingers into his long hair and tug lightly, smiling as he grunts into you.

no matter how many times you'd do it together, diluc would always end up shy afterwards, as if he didn't just fuck you into oblivion and beyond, right now, he can barely look at you— eyes closed as he continued to search and suck on your bottom lip.

you're hyper aware of this, on what you were able to inflict on him, but now, you can't say anything, voice lost and throat hurting from your on-going moans and cries. with that, he holds his hips still before slowly pulling out of you, his cock semi erect and gradually softening, utterly spent.

glowing red eyes, now fluttering apart and finding yours, unraveling all at once. diluc certainly could never get used to this, not even after making you his wife.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #diluc x you #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact fanfics

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simonrillleyyysss · 7 months

Text

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧TEDDY BEAR

🧸🌸🍡

16.10.23

dom!könig x innocent!reader

warnings; fingering, kissing, boob sucking, groping, mating press, dumbification, crying kink, p in v, unprotected sex, cumming inside, implied!agegap🩷 manhandling,afab reader!

notes; i hope you enjoy, anon!! more than hppy to deliver what you want :>)

könig was big, obviously—but the about of stuffed animals shoved onto your bed made him even bigger.

the way he’d have to bend his knees to lay beside you on the bed, bunny stuffy jammed between his thigh, it could be a bit overwhelming at times, having to secretly move a few—but you’d always know! it was like you had it memorised.

you’d always insisted on keeping them there—no matter what!

kissing? just move your head around them! sleeping? hold them, duh! when the soft bunny plushies could squeak? way better! you just adored them, never letting them feel left out.

occasionally, könig would ask you about them, raising a brow as you began to rant.

‘that’s Minnie, she’s a bunny!’

‘are they all called that? or do they have individual names, Hübsches mädchen?’

‘no, silly! they’re all different.’

he would just nod, too tired to protest and question you and your stuffed animals.

so, when it came to sex? that was no excuse!

‘they can’t go—they help me!’

‘..help you have sex..?’

‘ew—no! help me think!’

he didn’t understand, but wouldn’t protest.

still,he would plead and beg for you to move the teddies, but to no avail—you wouldn’t listen.

he had your legs over his shoulders, fingers pumping in and out of your wet cunny with a scissoring motion, kissing your stomach gently as you squeaked and gently moaned, reaching out to hold a teddy close to your chest,listening to the bear squeak as you squished it, eyes fluttering back as you orgasmed.

‘must..must you hold the bear..Liebling?’

‘it seems..unnecessary, Nein?’

‘they can’t leave me..!...’

was all you could moan out, shifting to place the teddy back down, watching könig roll his eyes, moving his bangs out of his face as he leant forward, head ducking down to suckle at your puffy nipple, tongue rolling over the pink bud of nerves, gently squishing the fat boob in his hand, humming contently.

how could he say no to his baby?

you were flat on your back, legs hanging over his hips as he thrusted into you, hand gripping your hip while his freehand moved to lift one of your plushies, gently moving it against your face.

‘oh,mein gott..’

‘wonder if teddy likes this view, ja?’

he teased, watching your mouth open with moans, a string of begs coming from your pretty lips, drool rolling down your chin as his hair draped over your shoulders, groaning.

‘thank you..thank you..oh—ah!please—nmghhnnff!’

‘Das ist es, Schlampe - nimm das alles wie ein gutes Mädchen..’

he growled, throwing you onto your stomach before sliding back in, pummelling his thick cock into you like a battering ram, bullying the walls of your cervix cruelly, slapping and kneading at your breasts; reaching up to grab your face and squish it, smushing your cheeks together as you sobbed in pleasure, smiling dumbly up at him,doe like eyes looking up at him as your thick, dolly lashes fluttered.

‘please! ah—oh! need it!’

you reached out to lift your teddy, listening to it squeak each time he fucked you, your body moving forward with the force of his thrusts, squishing the cute teddies behind you; mercilessly splitting you in half with his length, your shaky hand moving to turn the teddies around—covering their eyes as you squealed and sobbed.

slowly, his hips stilled as his hot cum spurted inside your pussy, sliding out and spreading your puffy folds with his fingers, kissing your button clit, standing up and wiping down your sweaty body, your innocent eyes hazy with lust and fulfilment, giggling as you slid a fresh pair of panties on, lifting the teddies and playing with them, pretending to kiss könig with the fluffy bunny.

‘mwah!’

könig just raised a brow, lifting a teddy and lowering it to his cock.

‘maybe next-time i’ll just fuck the..Teddybär.’

‘nooOooo!’

#könig x reader #könig breeding kink canon #könig x reader smut #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig smut #könig modern warfare #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x gender neutral reader #könig cod

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finelinevogue · 9 months

Text

lost n found

summary - you are lost in italy the night before your wedding

pairing: fiancé!harry x reader

word count: ~2k

You were definitely lost.

Drunk and lost.

To: harry - im so sor:(y

From: harry - Baby, you’re fine❤�� Drop me your location and I’ll come find you. Please don’t move xx

To: harry - okaY.i love you xox

So currently you were sat on a stone wall, somewhere on a random side street in a small Italian village, waiting for your boyfriend to come and pick you up.

Harry had gone out with a few of his closest guy friends for drinks, for one last night as an unmarried man.

You and your girls had gone out for drinks too and you had mentioned to the boys that you would catch them up later.

At some point during the evening, though, you and the girls had all gone to the beach and you had gone to the toilet. It had been a trek to find one, only when you tried to find your way back you took so many drunken wrong turns that you couldn’t tell your legs from rights now.

Reading a map was useless, but sending Harry messages wasn’t.

You originally hadn’t wanted to send him any messages, not wanting to ruin his last night a “free” man but at some point you had become a little too lost to care.

Swinging your legs as you sat on the wall, you watched the birds fly overhead amongst the clear blue sky. You detailed all the cracks in the old buildings and counted twelve windows on one wall alone.

Your brain was fuzzy and your eyes kept on wanting to close from tiredness. You would be blaming a lot of your girl friends tomorrow for the continuous passing of shots your way.

Your phone rang in your hand.

“Yeah?” You answered, not even checking the caller ID.

“Baby? Love? Can y’hear me?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not where y’said you’d be.” Harry sounded stressed.

“N-no I am. I sent you my location a-and I haven’t moved.”

You stood up and could feel yourself starting to panic. If Harry didn’t know where you were then there was no way of you knowing. Harry wasn’t ever a big enough drinker to get really drunk, unlike you.

You only ever got drunk when you felt you were in a safe environment, like tonight had been surrounded by all your closest girl friends. Or always with Harry.

Now that you didn’t have anyone and you were still drunk, you were getting anxiety of being alone and intoxicated.

Cue to shaky hands and tears.

“Are y’sure baby?”

“Y-yes. Fuck me. You’re not going to find me. Fuck. I don’t – shit – I.. I’m…”

“Hey, hey. Y/N, baby. Woah, slow down for me, okay? I am coming for you, okay? I just.. It was my mistake and I just need to relocate myself. You’re okay.”

Your phone was shaky in your hands and you started twisting your body around, as if expecting some random creepy guy to come around the corner and take advantage of you.

The twisting didn’t help your head, though, and was making you feel increasingly dizzy and sick.

“Y/N?” Harry asked urgently and you wondered whether you’d missed something he said.

“I-I’m scared.” You honestly said, backing yourself against a wall and trying to let the cool stone calm you down.

Your tears will no doubt have ruined your minimal makeup by now, not that that was a main priority of yours right now.

“Honey, you’re okay. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Harry sounded like he was running.

His voice sounded a little breathy and you could hear the fast movement of wind through the speakerphone.

“Y/N, love, turn on your data.” Harry said.

“I ran out.” You banged your head back against the wall, not even thinking about the pain that just caused.

You whimpered as you sank down onto the floor, knees tucked close to your chest and arm wrapped around your legs. Your phone was still to your ear, with Harry’s voice being the only sane thing in this moment.

“Okay, okay.” Harry muttered to himself rather than you. More running sounded from Harry’s end of the phone. “Baby, y’still there?”

“Mm.”

Your mind travelled to many worst case scenarios and due to how bad they were your panic only increased.

This was supposed to be your last nights as an unmarried couple and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d ruined that. He must’ve been having such a good night.

You’d seen a couple of photos on his private Instagram story and other people’s Instagram stories. Your fiancé looked divine. He just looked so perfect that it was difficult to believe that he had chosen you and you got to call him yours.

It did make you nearly cry that he was thinking of you, via Instagram, though.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Harry asked.

“Don’t know. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry or upset. Just want to make sure you’re okay, my love.”

“Okay.”

“So you have to be brave for me, okay?”

“Yes, okay.”

You got stuck for a moment, trying to think of possible ways you could calm yourself down and distract yourself. Luckily, Harry was already one step ahead.

“Hey, baby?” He grabbed your attention.

“Yeah.”

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but let the smile take over your face. You weren’t scared at all for tomorrow. You had no nervous jitters. All you felt was love in your heart for your husband to be.

“We are.”

“And you’re going to look so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“I can’t wait to see you in your wedding dress. I bet it looks so pretty.”

You sniffled, building back your strength and overcoming your anxiety. A lot of your strength came from the love you hold for Harry.

You heard a noise from your left and looked to see a cat rustling through some litter.

Your heart deflated when you realised it wasn’t Harry. You knew he was coming though. He was on his way and he would not stop running until he found you.

It was almost like a bad scene out of a romance movie.

The night before your wedding and something terrible goes wrong. It’s a sign!

“I think it’s just perfectly me.” You said, talking about your wedding dress.

“Sounds perfect to me then.” Harry paused for a moment. “Baby, did you walk under an archway, like, uh, a stone archway covered in pink flowers?”

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.” You ran a stressed hand over your forehead.

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“Everyone’s going to be so mad at me.” You began getting frustrated with yourself. “Fuck.” You breathed in a sob and exhaled with a bigger breath.

“Promise you no one’s mad, baby. Gem has messaged me a thousand times asking if you’re okay. I can’t even answer ‘cause this bloody maps apps is a fucking nuisance. I swear to–”

“Harry?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up from your knees to check your phone. He was still on the line. “Hello?”

“Y/N!” Harry shouted your name, but not from down the phone.

You could see Harry walking over to you very quickly, clearly panting from having run street after street.

“H.” You dropped your phone and cried as you saw him faster approach you.

Definitely a moment worthy of a romcom.

Harry was probably living his Ryan Gosling dreams.

“Baby, hey. I’m here. You’re okay.” Harry sank down to the floor and scooped his arms around you, pulling you close and squeezing oh so tight.

He sank down to his bum and leaned against the wall, pulling your entirely onto his lap. Too close wasn’t an option right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you sat sideways on his lap. Your face was tucked under his chin and his head rested on top of yours. You cried as Harry held you tight.

You couldn’t see Harry’s facial expressions but he was breathing out sighs of relief, some tears in his own eyes from the adrenaline of trying to find you. He had been just as scared as you, but had to remain strong for you. Now he had you he could let it all out.

“You’re never going to the toilet alone again.” Harry laughed. You laughed back.

“Deal.”

“That was scary.” Harry kind of mumbled, but you heard him anyways. He kissed your head a few times and you melted at the feel.

“Harry.”

“Yeah, love?”

“My head is so dizzy.”

Harry used a hand to tilt your head up so he could see your face. He noticed your mascara ridden face first of all, but beneath that you were all beauty.

“Tequila is only our friend for two rounds, remember?” He laughed at you. He was able to tell from your eyes that you weren’t exceedingly drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“I did not remember.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours as he shook his head with a grin. “You’re such a handful, you.”

“M’sorry.” You pouted.

“Never said I didn’t love you as a handful.”

“Do you? Love me a handful?” You used a hand to stroke over his cheek that had gotten so scruffy with the stubble he was trying to grow.

“‘Course. Love you every way and anyway. Love you so much. Love you until my body literally decomposes my wedding ring off my finger, and then some more.”

“That was dark, even for a 2AM drunk thought.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Harry chuckled, noticing that smile on your face becoming more and more permanent.

“But I’ll love you for the same.” You promised.

Harry kissed you then, not wasting another moment of this evening away from you. Well, morning now. His lips were soft against yours and you smiled into the kiss, happy that he was here with you even if it was under really weird circumstances.

“Let’s go, trouble. We’ll go back to the hotel and I’ll kiss you all night.”

“Don’t you want to spend the rest of your night with the boys? You know, last night as a free man?” Even though you were suggesting this, all you actually wanted to do was kiss, kiss and kiss him.

“Free man?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows with disgust, “What are you talking about?”

“You know? People say the last night before they get married is their last chance to be free?”

“Why would I need to be free when I’ve got you? I’m choosing you, like I always have. Never needed to be free.”

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m shackling you to me for life.”

“Too right you are, baby. Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Now, take me home, trouble.” You giggled.

“Oh. So I’m the trouble now?”

liked by gemmastyles and 682,928 others

yourinstagram tomorrow i get your last name forever <3 p.s. i would like to state that harry bought himself that tshirt :)

view all 78,977 comments

harryfan1 oh to be y/n l/n

jeffezoff Where did you two go?

harryfan2 moustacherry fans rrIISEEEEE

harryfan3 wish my bf supported me with tshirts like that

jamescorden Tequila anyone?

harrystyles I am planning on wearing that tshirt tomorrow.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles the tshirt but nothing else please

gemmastyles @/jamescorden They aren’t coming back for tequila….

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles italy #harry styles mustache #harry styles fic #finelinevogue fic #harry styles fiance #harry styles boyfriend

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bratkook · 8 months

Text

two point five. part three (m) jjk.

part one. part two. pairing. handyman!jungkook x reader genre. smut, pwp, fluff!! word count. 5.9k warnings. they’re in luvvv its sick, jungkook still loves to tease, pussy job, finger sucking, its just sweet and dirty idk summary. jungkook finally fixes your pipes, sure he gets distracted while doing it, but what else could you expect when you’re sitting on top of him looking like that. note. thank u guys for loving them & for being patient for more! they make my heart happy so i had to continue writing for them. i hope u enjoy the filth and brief jimin interaction hehe

“Isn’t it cute?” The excitement in your voice makes Jungkook smile as he stares at you, nose scrunched up in endearment when you pull out the shiny brass object from the box you had just ripped open.

“Super cute, baby. What is it?” Jungkook honestly hadn’t seen it too well, but anything you liked was cute to him so he obviously agreed. He was currently leaning against your dining chair, hands resting along the back of it as he hunched over to examine the plastic wrapped thing. It’s not until you peel it back that he knows exactly what it is, giving you another smile when he looks up to meet your gaze.

“A new faucet! I figured since you still need to fix my leaky pipes you could just…install this for me too?” Your voice is hopeful, almost as if you think there’s a chance he’d say no.

“I’ve been trying to fix it for weeks and you keep telling me no.” His eyes are playfully narrowed at you.

“I know, but that’s because this was back ordered. But it’s here now, so can you? Please.”

He sighs, looking away from you as he pretends to contemplate it, giggling when you whine and round the table to grip his shoulders. Even as you wrap your arms around him and beg, he continues to hum in thought, not caving until you’re leaning up and gingerly kissing his jaw and finally his lips.

“Mm, you know just how to convince me huh?” he mumbles against your lips, feeling you smile as he kisses you back.

“Kisses are your weakness?” You giggle when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“No, just you.” His smile is cheeky as he admits this, giving you another squeeze before you’re pulling back with a cute laugh.

Jungkook had taken it upon himself to just keep a tool box at your place, leaving it in your coat closet for emergencies. He had gone ahead and told you what every tool in there did, not like it meant anything to you, knowing you wouldn’t be reaching in there after how horrible your attempt at mounting your television had gone.

This was Jungkook’s emergency tool box, not yours. So, after a quick trip to his truck parked down below, grabbing a few things he knew he’d need, he’s grabbing his toolbox out of your closet and getting right to work. You typically let him work on his own now, busying yourself with cleaning up your apartment, hanging up the newest photostrip you both took last night at your favorite bar and admiring it on the fridge with a smile. But once your to-do list runs out you can’t help it when your feet lead you to your bathroom, slowly pushing open the door as you lean on the frame and observe your boyfriend.

He had managed to remove the old faucet, cleaning up the caulking and any weird water spots before replacing it with the cute brass swan faucet you had scored. He is crouched on his knees now, trying his best to fit under the small cabinet to properly screw everything in, cursing slightly under his breath when he lifts his head and bangs it on the wood.

“I think you’re too big to fit under there babe,” you giggle, enjoying the pointed look he gives you as he straightens himself back out. “What if you try doing it from under?”

His brows pinch on his forehead as he looks at your floor, checking the spacing between the sink and the wall across from it, deeming it wide enough for him to lay on his back to get a better point of view. As long as he kept his knees slightly bent he could definitely fit, he’ll just have to keep his light on his chest to be able to see, unless, “Can you do me a favor, baby?”

Your face lights up at the question, nodding in confirmation instantly, already stepping into the bathroom for whatever he might need.

“Hold the light for me? I need both my hands to finish this off.” You could definitely do that. That’s literally the only way you knew how to help. So without another thought you’re grabbing the flashlight for him and squatting beside his body, angling the light to where you think he might need it.

Jungkook chuckles lightly under his breath when the beam of light hits the wrong spot, his large hand coming out to grip yours and angle it a little better, making you partially lean over him.

“Jungkook, I can’t keep this position for too long,” you laugh out, your knees already burning from the weird angle. He peers out and laughs too, well attempting to before it slowly dies in his throat when you get the grand idea of swinging your leg over his body and straddling his hips. It’s clear your thoughts are pure as you smile at how much easier it is this way, but Jungkook was a weak weak man, and the pretty flowy dress you were wearing made it so he could feel you directly on top of him, only the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweats separating you two.

“Better right?” you wonder, ever so softly putting more pressure on him as you settle, your free hand gently resting on his stomach, thumb mindlessly rubbing along the thin sliver of skin exposed as his shirt rode up. When he simply stares at you, absolutely dazed, you tilt your head and give him a pout that makes him want to sit up and capture your lips in a kiss. Luckily, he snaps out of it, thankfully saving his poor forehead from receiving another awful slam against the cabinet.

“Much better,” he forces out, letting his head fall back to resume his work. His eyes are focused on tightening the screws holding the new faucet in place, but then you’re adjusting your position and his eyes can’t help but look back down at you. He knows you’re not being intentional, but the pressure of you resting on his slowly hardening cock was going to be the death of him. Jungkook really didn’t have anyone to blame but himself, getting riled up so easily thanks to the horny lovesick cocktail he always had fogging up his brain around you.

“Baby,” he groans out, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans back and lets his palm fall over his face. “You gotta stop moving.”

“I’m sorry. Am I not pointing the light where you need it?” Your brows are furrowed on your forehead, pure confusion clouding your features as Jungkook gives you another glance. He has a very familiar look on his face, a look reserved for when he was inches away from you before pouncing on you and turning you into an absolute mess.

That’s when you notice it, the firmness pressed up against your core as you slowly settle back. Your eyes widen briefly, fighting back a sly smile from spreading onto your lips when you realize just how easily affected he is by you.

Maybe it's cruel to relish in it, the mischief already brewing in your mind as you give an experimental roll of your hips. Jungkook groans instantly, brows pinching on his forehead as he glances down at where you connect, words dying on his tongue when you roll forward again before he has a chance to utter anything out.

“Focus on what you’re doing,” you murmur, head tilted slightly as you smile down at him. Jungkook refuses to look away, his brain fighting him on what to do. He knew he could easily turn this around, scoop you up and fuck you right on this bathroom floor. But why was this so hot to him?

All of his thoughts turn into mush when you reach forward, fingers cupping his cheeks as you forcefully turn his head to look at the faucet again. His cock twitches beneath you as you speak once more. “Focus, baby.”

Oh yeah, he’s whipped.

You hum in content when he does just that, hands a little shaky as he resumes his work and attempts to act unaffected. The act only works for a brief moment, his hands faltering when he feels you shift around, your fingers dipping into the waistband of his sweats before you tug them down. Jungkook’s breath shudders as he shuts his eyes and just waits, knowing he couldn’t look down at you because the temptation would be too much.

A small gasp hits the air when you see he’s bare underneath his sweats, his cock already hard and leaking. Jungkook hisses when your hand wraps around him, giving him a gentle tug and swiping your thumb along the tip. He only caves and looks down again when he feels the way you press his length against his stomach, curiosity getting the best of him, allowing him the sight of you tugging your panties to the side before you’re settling back onto him.

“Fuck,” he groans out, seeing your pussy lips spread around him as you rock along his length, tip of his cock nudging against your clit perfectly. The view only lasts a minute before you’re letting your dress float back down around you, the playful look in your eyes telling him he needed to focus on his job.

Jungkook knows he’s good at his job, and he’s proud of it, knowing he always does his best to do everything perfectly. But he usually doesn’t have the prettiest girl he’s ever known on top of him, hell bent on making him cum as he works. So he admits he might not be doing the absolute best job he can, going through the steps as fast as possible, trying his best to focus on something other than how fucking amazing he feels.

Your hand trembles a bit as you continue to hold the light for him, small little moans of pleasure filling up the room as you continue to roll your hips, your other hand resting firmly on his chest to hold you steady.

“I can feel you making a mess,” you giggle, knowing there would be a puddle of precum on his tummy, smearing along your folds with each rock forward.

Jungkook just grunts in response, jaw clenched tightly as he finishes up tightening the last screw. With one final check, he’s smiling underneath the sink, allowing his tools to clang beside him as he grips your hips with both palms, enjoying the way you gasp in surprise.

“My turn,” he breathes out, tongue prodding along his cheek as he effortlessly shimmies out of his position. Your eyes are wide as you take in the look on his face, feeling your chest fluttering in excitement as he easily sits up, scooping an arm around you as he stands up straight.

“That was fast,” you breathe out, the slight tingling of nerves crawling up your spine, knowing Jungkook didn’t love being teased like that—not without knowing he’d get a chance to pounce back at least.

“I had some helpful motivation,” he mumbles, turning you around and settling behind you. His nose nudges along your head as he bends forward, soft breath felt against your ear as his hands slide up your thighs beneath your dress. Your skin tingles as his fingers dance along the edge of your wet panties, teasingly tugging at them as he presses his hardened length against your ass.

“Jungkook, we’re meeting up with your friends in a little bit,” you breathe out, voice trembling slightly as your hands fumble against the sink.

“I know, but you started it.” He smiles now, his eyes looking forward to meet your gaze in the mirror above your sink, brow cocked up. “Do you want me to finish it?”

He can see the way your face is lit up, lower lip held captive by your teeth as you gently bite down, eyes already glossed over as you mindlessly nod. Of course you want him to finish what you started.

“I need words, pretty girl,” he murmurs, both palms continuing to glide along your skin, enjoying the slight tremble he feels, how your body reacts to him instantly. His smile is teasing, lip curling up as he breathes out a laugh when you can only shudder as you try to get your brain to cooperate.

“Please. I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is low, raspy around each syllable, already on your way to being ruined before he has a chance to do anything. Perfect.

“Oh, I get a please? So polite,” he jests, peppering a kiss to your temple as his hands finally hook into your underwear and yank them down. When they pool around your feet you kick them out of the way, instinctually spreading your legs and pressing your ass further into him. Jungkook hums in content, his gaze falling down as he flips up the bottom of your dress, seeing the soft skin of your ass pressing against his length.

He guides his length between your thighs once more, resting perfectly against your sodden folds as he shallowly ruts forward. You moan softly as the tip of his cock nudges your clit, aching for his touch.

“I’ll always do whatever you want.” You know this is a promise from him, having experienced how true to his word he is during the last few months. All you can do is grip onto the counter to prepare yourself when you feel him start to move back. Your gaze is locked onto his reflection, seeing the way he bites onto his lip when he grabs your ass, gripping onto the flesh for his own satisfaction before delivering a swift slap, smiling at the small mewl you release.

You watch with bated breath as he grips the base of his cock, feeling the tip of it pressing into your soaked entrance, teasingly circling around it just to see the way your walls beg for him. He loved it too much, thoughts getting hazier with each small moan that escapes you. The bulbous head of his cock slowly inches forward, your pussy tightening around his tip and making him moan under his breath before pulling out entirely. It was the same motion he loved to do, teasing himself and getting a kick out of the delayed pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you whine out, giving him a pout when he looks up at your reflection. He mumbles out an apology that he clearly doesn’t mean judging by the smile on his face, but the way he finally sinks into you makes up for it. The satisfying stretch that follows is something that will never get old, and the small gasp he lets out when he bottoms out lets you know he feels the same.

Jungkook can only shut his eyes as he lets the feeling wash over him, his palms gripping your hips tightly when he feels your walls pulse around his length. He could live and die buried inside of you, always wanting to hear the soft moans of his name and the small whimper you release when he pulls his hips back and thrusts forward.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans out, eyes fluttering open to stare at the way your arousal coats his cock, shiny essence glimmering in the bathroom light. His mouth drops open in awe, stomach tensing up at the sight, hands gripping you harder when he sees the way you arch your back for more.

“You were fucking made for me.”

His words make your body warm up, spoken so sweetly in such a lewd context, only intensifying when he speeds up the thrust of his hips, bending forward to kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Tell me,” he breathes out, slight begging dripping from his tone, always so desperate to hear how much you wanted him. His hand comes up to grip your face, fingers cupping your jaw to turn you to look at him. The look on his face makes more arousal gush out of you, seeing the pinch between his brows, eyes swimming with desire as they float between your eyes and your lips.

“I was—fuck—“ you keen at a particular thrust, eyes rolling back momentarily. “I was made for you. Only you.”

“Mm, good girl,” he sighs, connecting your lips in a messy kiss. You moan against his lips when he snaps his hips forward, just hard enough to have you seeing stars behind your closed lids. His fingers rub your cheeks, gently coaxing your mouth open as he flicks his tongue along the seam of your lips, groaning in approval when you allow him entrance.

Your arm reaches back to grip his face, needing to touch him, to let your fingers slip into his hair and yank as your tongues flick against each other. Jungkook groans unabashedly when you gently suck his tongue, heavy eyes opening up to stare at you when you pull away briefly.

“We gotta be quick.” It’s spoken mainly to himself, a reminder that he couldn’t take his sweet time with you today, knowing there was a ticking clock telling you both to hurry up. He’s tempted to say fuck it, to blow off the plans with his friends and ravish you the way he always wanted to. But he knows how much you were looking forward to it so he sucks it up, deciding he’ll just have to make up for it tonight.

“Yeah, quick. Quick is fine,” you shudder, eyes focused on the way his lips shine, slightly swollen from your kissing. His tongue swipes at his piercing as he smiles when he notices your dazed stare, giving you another kiss to satisfy you before turning your head back to stare at your reflection once more.

“Don’t worry baby. I’ll still take care of you.” His head presses against yours, staring directly into the mirror. “Want you to be good and watch yourself for me though. Can you do that?”

His hips have yet to slow their rhythm, the wet smack of your skin connecting still filling up the bathroom. It makes you feel dizzy, too transfixed on it and the way he just looks at you. His smile is as sweet as can be, his fingers coming to your lips, humming in content when you open your mouth to allow them in, coating them in your spit just the way he liked it before pulling them out.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He mumbles out more praise against your head, whispering it into your ear, each raspy syllable turning you into a puddle against him. Your eyes are glued to your reflection, seeing the way he kisses down the side of your neck, sucking on your skin until he’s satisfied with the mark he leaves. His trail isn’t complete until he’s yanking down the top of your dress, watching in fascination as your tits spilled out. A choked moan fills the air when he pinches a sensitive bud, spit covered fingers rolling along it, smiling when you jut your chest out further for more.

“You said quick, Jungkook,” you pant out, having an internal battle just like he was. It was easy for him to get side tracked though, enjoying the teasing, taking it slow until you were crying for it, bringing you right to the edge just for you to stay there until he thought it was time. You can see his mind floating now as he grabs your boob, admiring the way it fills up his palm, his hips slowing down ever so slightly to really enjoy the way you clench around him with each yank of your nipple.

“Sorry baby.” He’s back now, eyes sharpening up as he looks at you again. You can see something brewing in his mind and it fills you with the tingle of nerves, not knowing what he could be thinking. “I’ll be quick.”

Before you have time to think, his hand slides down to scoop around your thigh, hauling up one of your legs, fucking you deeper and laughing when you squeal at the feeling. Your mouth is dropped open as you try to take it all in, hands gripping the counter until your knuckles pale, the curve of his cock hitting just right inside of you.

“Oh fuck, feels so good—you always feel so good.” Your mindless babbles have pride filling his chest, seeing the debauched look on your face reflected back on the mirror. Everything feels hot, the thick air clinging to your skin, leaving you gasping out as he fucks you harder. It has you desperate, leaning back against him, one hand reaching behind you to hold him close despite the position.

“Yeah? You like the way my cock fills you up, pretty girl?” Jungkook huffs out a breath when you tighten around him in response, his arm situating your thigh until your knee catches on the counter. “Keep that there for me baby.”

You can only nod in response, doing your best to do as he asks despite the rocking of his hips. His hand settles onto the countertop on top of yours, interlocking your fingers together as he speeds up. A mewl reaches his ears when his free palm slides up your supported thigh, under your little dress and meets your clit, soaked in your arousal as he rubs tight circles into it.

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you gasp out, your hand clinging onto his bicep, digging tiny half moons into his skin. The muscle in your thigh is starting to ache from the position but the overwhelming pleasure you feel is enough for you to ebb it away.

You can feel the way his arm flexes as he rubs deft circles onto your swollen clit, his harsh breathing hitting your hair, and when you meet his gaze in the mirror it makes your stomach flip.

“You’re so wet,” he groans out, his fingers glide with ease, applying more pressure so they don’t slip around, sending sparks up your spine. “Always so messy for me. Do you really like me that much?” He teases you, trying to act calm and unaffected but you can see the clenching in his jaw, can feel the way his hips stutter slightly as his orgasm creeps up on him.

Jungkook moans out your name when your walls tighten around him, body desperately trying to keep him in as your own high approaches. “I can’t help it, you know I love you.” You sigh it out so beautifully it makes his heart skip a beat. You had both said it before but Jungkook would never get tired of hearing it, would never get tired of saying it back to you, not ashamed to admit that a simple four letter word was enough to nearly send him over the edge.

“I love you more,” he groans out, snapping his hips fluidly, feeling the way you start to tense in his hold as all of it begins to overwhelm you. His eyes are locked onto you, the way your chest hiccups as you gasp out in pleasure, the purple splotch on your neck that he was so proud of, your kiss swollen lips dropped open perfectly, eyes glossed over in ecstasy. You were close, the grip you have on his arm tightening, digging into the dark ink on his skin.

“I gotta feel you cum baby,” he begs, not wanting to cum before you did, already feeling it too close to hold it off any further. His cock throbs inside of you, each torturous glide of his hips making his eyes fall shut, finger continuing to flick along your clit. You’re nodding against him, head falling back, moans getting breathier until your orgasm finally washes over you.

“Fuck fuck, oh my god,” you whine out, brows pinching together as you squeeze your eyes shut, bright white flashes behind your lids as the feeling spreads through your limbs. Jungkook groans as he fucks you through it, your walls milking his cock, feeling you gush around his length until it trickles down your legs.

It’s an absolute mess between your thighs and Jungkook just wants to add to it. His hand finally retreats from your clit when you start to whimper at the overstimulation, his lips peppering kisses onto your shoulder as he lowers your thigh, being as gentle as he could be while pushing you forward. You’re pliant in his grasp, allowing him to bend you over, supporting yourself on the sink while he repositions you enough to be comfortable.

“C’mon Kookie, want you to make me messier,” you coo out, voice sounding dreamy as the afterglow hits you. He can see the soft smile on your lips as you turn your head to look back at him, fully enjoying the sight of your boyfriend falling apart.

“Don’t worry baby, I will.” Both hands grip your hips now, his hips snapping forward with enough force to turn your mind into mush. His eyes fall on the way your ass bounces with each thrust, the smack of your skin sounding like music to his ears. He curses under his breath as the familiar feeling starts to spread, hips losing their grace as he gets desperate, surging forward to get as deep as he could before he finally cums too. A guttural moan of your name fills the room as he shoots into you, painting your walls and making you hum in content at the warmth.

Jungkook fucks into you a few more times, savoring the feeling as he comes down from the high, bending forward to kiss and soothe your skin. His hands glide up your body, gentle touches making goosebumps flare up on your arms. A smile spreads on your face when he interlocks your fingers, gently tugging you back up and wrapping his arms around you.

He looks like a giddy child in the reflection, face smushed against your head, eyes shut with the biggest smile on his lips. You take this moment in just like you do every other moment with him, shutting your eyes and smiling as you let him hold you, storing the memory in your mind in a space made just for him.

Jungkook gives your temple another kiss before slowly pulling out of you, the two of you groaning at the feeling. You wince when you feel the globs of cum already leaking out of you, but before you can move he’s already reaching to the side, grabbing a handful of toilet paper to clean up the mess he made before letting your dress fall back down.

You spin around now, finally seeing him face to face, wrapping your arms around his neck, the sweetest smile on your lips. His hands smooth down the fabric of your dress, fingers fiddling with the material.

“This dress is really pretty by the way. Makes you look like an angel.” He makes it easy to swoon over him, your heart warming in your chest as you take in his casual compliment.

“Thank you baby.” You pucker your lips as you lean up and he wastes no time kissing you back.

“I ruined your lip gloss,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, pulling back to stare at your bare lips, no longer shiny with your favorite coconut scented gloss. The pink gloss was long gone, no evidence left on his own lips either.

“Yeah, you always do.” You give him another kiss before looking at yourself in the mirror and groaning while your fingers attempt to fix your mess of hair. “Jungkook, we’re supposed to meet your friends in half an hour.”

Jungkook laughs as his hand comes up to gently prod at the small hickey he had mindlessly sucked into your neck. It was a teenage habit he would be taking to his grave. “Oh shit, well you better cover that up or they’re gonna make it the topic of conversation for the night.”

You glare at him through the mirror. This would be the first time you’d be meeting his friends, and if they were really the way he described them to be then you know that Taehyung and Jimin would definitely point your hickey out. The tingle of anxiety starts pooling in your stomach as you make a move to exit the bathroom, needing to fix yourself up as quickly as possible. As you walk you realize you’re still naked from the waist down, only the thin fabric of your dress keeping you decent.

“Oh god. I need my underwear too, I can’t embarrass myself with a hickey and going commando.”

Jungkook beats you to it, bending over to pick up your ruined panties off the floor, looking cocky as he lets them dangle off his finger like a prize. “These are mine.”

Your cheeks burn as you watch with wide eyes, seeing him bring the material close to his face before he’s tucking them into the pocket of his pants. He looks so proud as he pats them, acting like it was nothing as he turns around to open the bathroom door. It’s not like he gets far though, your hand grabbing his arm and yanking him back with a force he had never experienced.

“Jungkook, you freak! You can’t take those with you.” His eyes are huge as he stares at you, slightly impressed at your determined strength and entirely amused at how scandalized you look.

“Says who?” he guffaws, keeping you at arms length when you try to reach for them.

“Says me! I’ll tell your friends you’re a panty thief.”

“Please,” he laughs, loud. “They already know! Already roasted me about it a few weeks back.”

“Wait, is this something you do?”

His face falls briefly, realizing he had just confessed to stealing your underwear. “What?”

That makes you laugh now, no longer trying to reach for your panties, letting your head come to rest against his chest as you giggle. This all made sense now, the realization that a few pairs of your underwear had mysteriously gone missing. You had blamed it on your washing machine eating them, had even asked Jungkook to check it or call someone to repair it before the entirety of your underwear drawer went missing.

Of course it was him.

“You’re so dirty!”

Jungkook reassures you that you look great for the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, a smile still on his face as you ask him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes baby. Your lipgloss looks perfect and you can’t even tell that I went to town on your neck.” He laughs when you gently swat his stomach, holding the door open for you as you step into the brewery. Jungkook had said it was his group's favorite place to hang out in, a huge space with games and activities for everyone to enjoy, a wide selection of beers and even a few cocktails that he knew you would prefer. He leads the way with his hand in yours, knowing exactly where they would be.

When you approach a corner near the dart wall you spot a group of boys, all standing up with dorky smiles on their faces as they clap obnoxiously loud.

“Oh my god, what are you guys doing?” Jungkook questions, laughing as he gets closer. None of them pay him any attention though, looking right at you as they continue to clap.

“Wow,” a boy with pale blonde hair sighs out, being the first to stop clapping as the rest slowly follow suit. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet the woman who has turned Jungkookie into an absolute fucking simp.”

That makes you laugh now, hand covering up your mouth as you see them all nod along. Jungkook doesn’t even respond, tonguing his cheek as he tries to hide his smile when he steps away from you to allow you to have your moment.

“Really, it’s honest work but I’m happy to do it. You must be Jimin?”

He gasps, smile growing wider on his face as he looks at Jungkook, finally acknowledging him. “Do you talk about me?”

“Yeah, about how fucking annoying you are,” Jungkook scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes as he takes a seat at the edge of the bench, scooting down enough for you to settle in next to him.

Your earlier nerves calm a bit as everyone starts to talk, introducing themselves before it flows into easy conversation. Once the drinks start making their rounds you find yourself joining in, laughing along to old stories they reminisce on, playfully teasing one another in a brotherly way that shows you how deep their friendship actually was.

“Oh no, we need to tell you about that time Jungkook got so high off a pot brownie that he cried at ColorMeMine.” Taehyung can barely say the sentence before he’s cackling as he recalls it, smile wide as can be while he throws his head back.

“No you absolutely fucking don’t!”

“C’mon, we basically already told her! She just needs all the juicy details.” Yoongi adds on to it, a smug smile on his face as he holds up his beer to take a long sip.

“What, the juicy details of them threatening to kick me out?” Jungkook groans, covering his face in embarrassment. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t properly read the strength of it and before he knew it he was staring at his half painted plate wondering how the hell he got so high and why the fuck everyone else was so calm about it.

“Well…that, and the video I took of it all,” Jimin whispers out, biting down on his lip as he starts to unlock his phone and scroll through his photo gallery.

That makes Jungkook’s head snap up, wide eyes giving Jimin a look that you know was meant to be threatening but the other boy finds it funny, giggling as he turns to look at you.

“I’ll send it to you later. Keep it for emergencies.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open in betrayal, eyes floating over to you and seeing the way you smile and nod. “Emergencies?”

“Jungkook, don’t worry about it!” You cackle as you gently cup his cheek, feeling it bulge out as he smiles back, enjoying the way you were getting along with his friends—even if it was at his expense. He didn’t care really, he’d dish out all of his embarrassing stories if it made you laugh as hard as it did today.

“Am I gonna regret introducing you to each other?” he mumbles out, playfully glaring at his friend.

You look over at Jimin too, the same thoughts brewing in your minds as you laugh together. You could only imagine all the ways you and him would gang up on your boyfriend, pushing his buttons in that way he swore he didn’t like while secretly enjoying it.

“Oh, definitely.”

Jungkook can only groan, trying so hard to pretend like this was detrimental, as if the idea of two of his favorite people getting along was the end of the world. But as he stares at you giggling while you watch that god forsaken video, his heart swells, thankful Jimin had given him the pep talk he needed to confess and even more grateful you had decided to hire him off the sketchiest app ever made.

#jungkook smut #new

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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eddie's flat ass (steddie)

Dustin whips around as soon as they’re alone. “Steve!”

“I’m Eddie.”

“No, I mean you and Steve. You like him.”

“Of course I like him, Henderson,” Eddie says flatly, pressing a little harder on the gas in hopes of getting to Dustin’s house before he admits something he regrets. “We’re friends. Best buds. A couple of dudes being bros.”

“You’re full of shit,” Dustin says. “I’m not stupid. I saw that. I wish I hadn’t, but I saw it. You’re, like, stupidly into him. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. His street can’t come soon enough.

Dustin pushes through. “When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Uh, never?”

“What?!”

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Nothings going to happen, Henderson. Yeah, I’ve got a stupid fucking crush on your babysitter, it doesn’t mean that Steve’s interested in me. He likes girls, Dustin, did you miss that part in the dossier? He thinks we’re a couple of straight guys horsing around, if he found out I was flirting with him I could be thrown into Hunt the Freak 2: the thrilling sequel.”

Dustin’s mouth snaps shut, and he laughs nervously. “Right,” he agrees. “He likes girls. But, uh, hypothetically, if he was into guys…”

They roll to a stop sign, and Eddie turns away from the road to tell the little shit off. But Dustin’s fidgeting, staring steadfast at the road and refusing to meet his eye.

“You know something,” he realizes.

“Uh…”

Eddie’s about to shake it out of him. “You’re hiding something, you little shit. What is it? Tell me.”

“I’m not,” he squeaks.

“Bull-shit you aren’t. What is it? Is it about Steve?” Eddie pales. “Shit, does he know about me?”

“Well…”

“What the hell?!”

“I didn’t tell him!” Dustin yelps. “If you didn’t want him to know, maybe you shouldn’t have been so obvious!”

“Check your tone,” he snaps, hand shaking as he pulls on his hair. “Shit, shit, shit, okay, it’s fine, I just need to flee the country—“

“Why?”

Eddie is this close to throttling the kid. “What do you mean why?”

“Why is this such a big deal?”

“It could get me killed!” He shouts, banging a hand against the steering wheel. “He could—he could fucking tell somebody, and—“

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? You think someone’s a good guy until you’re interested in them, and then it’s all ‘You’re fucking disgusting,’ or ‘Freak,’ or ‘Don’t touch me, you fa—‘“

“Stop!” Dustin shouts, white knuckling the armrest. “Eddie, stop. He’s not going to tell anyone. It’s gonna be okay. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine,” Dustin stresses. “Steve doesn’t care if you’re gay. He definitely doesn’t mind you flirting with him.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie says.

“Yeah I do.”

“How?”

There’s that deer in headlights look again. Then Dustin takes a deep breath, and his expression turns guilty.

“I know you’re not supposed to tell people this,” he says, “but you’re freaking out really bad and I’m, like, 99% sure Steve thinks you already know.”

“Steve thinks I know what?”

Dustin tells him.

Two hours later, he’s still laying on the floor in the trailer, looking up at the ceiling.

Bisexual. Steve Harrington, the man Eddie’s always hailed as the patron saint of heterosexuality, likes men.

Might like Eddie.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eddie blurts out, and immediately tries to bolt.

He runs face first into a wall and ends up on the ground, wishing the demobats had just killed him.

Steve appears in his line of vision, standing over his sprawled body. Eddie is treated to a wonderful view, eyes moving from his long, athletic legs to his crotch to his chest and broad shoulders, and finally reaches his face. His very amused face.

Eddie’s entire body lights on fire.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asks, laughing.

“Uh…”

“Wile E Coyote over here. Seriously, man, that was some Loony Toons shit. I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” he groans. “Just let me die.”

“No way in hell. Sorry, Munson, I put too much work into saving your flat ass to throw it away like that.” Steve grins, holding a hand out for Eddie to take. He ignores it, rolling over so Steve can’t see how red his face is.

“My ass isn’t flat,” he mumbles into the carpet.

“Oh, it is,” Steve says cheerfully, nudging said ass with his foot, because he’s a bastard. Eddie doesn’t know why he likes him so much. Everything he does is catastrophically bad for his continued survival. “It’s cute though. I like it.”

“Henderson said, uh, that you were…umm…maybeflirtingwithme?” Eddie finishes in a rush.

“What?”

Steve’s face is open, automatically tilting his right ear towards Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s aware that’s something he does. Robin says it’s because of all the concussions, his left ear just isn’t what it used to be.

Eddie sags, unable to lie to his wide-eyed confusion. “Dustin said you're flirting with me.”

Steve stares at him.

Eddie fidgets under his incredulous gaze, growing more anxious by the minute. Oh God, Dustin was wrong. Dustin was wrong about everything. Steve probably doesn’t even actually like boys, Jesus. The whole thing is obviously a bust. Eddie needs to cut and run, maybe make some bullshit excuse about his uncle needing him home even though Steve knows Wayne’s working right now—

“You needed Henderson to tell you that?”

#eddie's flat ass au #i tried to come up with a name for two whole minutes and that's what i landed on #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steddie #sorry to all the thicc eddie truthers out there but that man is a board #idk what his actors ass looks like and idc. some things surpass the physical #stranger things fanfic #listen technically dustin is outing steve but in his defense steve fully thinks eddie knows he's bi #and if eddie wasn't told he was going to do something drastic

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thisthatpinkvenom · 8 months

Text

GIVE HER A LITTLE POW-POW ON HER BABYMAKER

BUSINESSMAN!SAN / HOUSEWIFE!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: What Bibi said in "Automatic" but make it domestic.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, smut smut smuttity smut but I think it's kinda cute(?) 😗

⤏ Content: rich married couple!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au, housewife!fem reader who knows how to cook (sorry to anyone who's not a MasterChef)

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): just straight up fucking, unprotected, breeding kink but it's more than a kink, creampie, light choking, light dirty talk, soft dom!San (my knees are weak), lots of swearing left and right, lots of yearning and pet names and it's kinda lovey-dovey but hey, what else do you expect from me at this point

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

"Ngh...l-let me make you feel g-good."

"Trust me; you already are..."

Earlier that evening, the familiar jingling of keys as the elevator doors opened and signaled San's arrival. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud before he stripped himself of his coat and undid his tie with a grimace on his face. He looked irritable, though the lines on his forehead ceased to be visible when he'd heard your feet padding across the floor to carry you into his embrace. A sequence of small and innocent pecks progressed into longing kisses and relieved sighs. And before you knew it, you were in the nude and on your bed, getting the pounding you'd been daydreaming of all day.

The bed never ceased its squeaking as your husband fucked you from behind. With your hand's iron grip on the headboard—that further continued to dig the dent in the wall deeper—your thighs trembled under all the weight you stressed onto your knees. Your back was flush against his abdomen, skin sticking with his through sheens of sweat. You were fortunate to live in a penthouse that offered you more privacy and freedom to fuck like rabbits, or else you would've received a very heated complaint for the incessant banging on your wall alone.

"This bed's f-fucking annoying," he grunted, frustration communicated through his hand which squeezed your breast in its clutch. "Need a new one, for fuck's s-sake."

You'd never voiced your complaints about the bed frame before, its sensitivity to any movement you made becoming a nuisance to your ears. You wanted to discuss going out and buying a new one but the right time hadn't come yet. Frankly, San had too much packed into his schedule, and you didn't want to pile any more things on his to-do list.

"I-I've been—ah—wanting t-to talk to you about t-that…"

Gradually, his thrusts became tamer until he stopped. The hand on your breast fell to your hip as he sat back on his heels, pulling you with him in the process. Your heart's drumming in your ears and you're trying to catch up with your own breath.

You didn't need to see to know the frown that made its way to his face. "Sannie—"

"And why am I only hearing this now?"

"You're so busy, and I didn't want to bother you. It wasn't a big deal, anyway," you reasoned.

His nose brushed the nape of your neck before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. "Mm, that's silly. Your concerns are my concerns. You should know that already, Baby."

Thank God, you were sitting. Otherwise, you would've melted to your knees if he kept this up. Fuck.

"I'll always try to make room for you," he continued, "no matter how hard it may be." His words melted under the soft sucks his lips made on your neck, his fingers having found your clit to toy with. "How about we go get a new one, this weekend? Then I can fuck you without all the noise."

Your walls clenched around his cock, earning a hiss and a chuckle vibrating on your skin.

"Ride me."

You set a steady pace when you began to work yourself on his lap, the squeaking commencing once again with every bounce you made on his cock. Despite the very vocal bed frame, the squelching from between your thighs couldn't be ignored either—the wet, little mess that your husband liked to play around with so much.

His other hand made its way up to your neck, his thumb and fingers gently pressing themselves into either side. The pressure had your eyes seeing black while your hands searched for his wrists, nimble fingers enclosing around them for any sense of stability. You really needed release, the flesh of your ass and thighs rippling with each hard smack against him.

"One day, I'll make time to put a baby in you. My baby," he rasped, the grip on your neck stiffening for a brief moment. "Ah, fuck…how does that s-sound, Honey?"

You clenched your teeth, eyes squeezed shut at the mention of being knocked up. And when you thought you couldn't be any more wetter, he'd proven you wrong.

"Oh, my God…d-don't say things you don't mean, Baby," you whined.

The pads of his fingers pressed deeper on your clit as they continued to draw circles on the nub.

"I fucking mean it. I always keep my promises."

Everything was just too much for you, your senses were stimulated to oblivion and you couldn't handle it any longer. The inevitable tension of your aroused pussy gave his cock a vice-like grip as you began to see speckles of noise behind your heavy eyes.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum—Sannie, I-I'm gonna fucking cum," you cried. Salt laid on your tongue from the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks, while the hand on your neck moved to your jaw.

He turned your face to his and shoved his tongue between your lips, pausing briefly to murmur, "I know, Baby. I know."

A trembling, soaked pile of mush was all you were at that moment. Putty under his touch, while you let him fuck your sensitive walls until he spurted a warm, white mess inside you. Your hips rocked slower until they settled to a halt, and your wet kisses had become tender. Nothing about this was funny, but you couldn't help but giggle, your teeth knocking against San's while the bliss was still clouding your mind.

"Lunch was really delicious as usual, by the way. Thank you, Honey."

Your thumbs declared a half-hearted war with each other, fiddling with no serious direction. You faced him, lying on your sides with lopsided smiles shared just between the two of you. The soft whirring of the air conditioner filled the room. Otherwise, you were undisturbed.

"You're welcome," you responded dreamily.

He shuffled closer to you, the bed squeaking once again.

"So, what's for tomorrow?"

You grinned, a playful glint in your narrowed eyes. "It's a secret. You can't open it until lunchtime. And don't even try, I know everything."

"Didn't I say your concerns were mine?"

"This one's an exception."

He smirked. "What if I gave you that baby in exchange for knowing what's for lunch tomorrow? Starting right now."

Your cheeks grew warm when the tip of his nose kissed yours.

"You play a really hard bargain."

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez timestamps #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #choi san smut #ateez san smut #san smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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ksakiswh0re-xo · 1 month

Text

✧ cockwarming draken while you study :

cw: fem reader, cockwarming, draken teasing, dirty talk/praise, hair-pulling, backshots, spanking, big dick warning lolol

wc: 634

Imagine cockwarming Draken while you study. You're sitting on your bed with your laptop and books all around you and you're naked from the waist down as you try to focus on taking your notes, but it's hard because all you can think about is how deep his fat cock is nestled inside your warm hole.

He's got an arm wrapped around your waist, making sure that you don't move as he watches your screen over your shoulder while you type.

Experimentally, he gives you a little nudge just because he loves to see you fall apart for him so easily. He smirks and nips at your ear when you whine and your fingers fall from the keyboard and onto his thigh.

"Keep typing. Be a good girl for me. Gunna ace this test, aren't ya, baby?"

You're too dumb to talk so he grabs your jaw and squeezes, making you face him as he moves your head up and down in a nod.

"I know you are, because you're my smart girl, after all. Get to it, baby, so I can fuck this sweet pussy just how she needs to be fucked."

—-

“Focus.”

Draken growls into your ear as he kneels behind you, balls deep in your cunt.

You’re bent over your laptop taking a quiz, breasts dangling heavily beneath you and almost touching the keyboard from the mean arch that your boyfriend has you in.

“‘m focused, Ken…” Your voice wobbles as does your hand; your mouse shakily hovers over a wrong answer before you suck in a breath and correct it.

“That was a close call, but you caught it, baby. Look at you, you’re doing such a good job.”

He spanked your butt a couple of times then rubbed the supple flesh with his big hands.

“I-I’m done…” The quiz was now submitted: you scored 100%.

Draken’s grin grew wider, showcasing two rows of perfect white teeth that you could see reflected in your laptop screen.

“Good fucking girl.”

He moved over you to close the computer lid and slide it onto the floor, pushing himself even further against your womb before he eased about half of his length out.

“Put the rest of that shit on the floor,” Draken commanded, referring to your multiple books, pens, and highlighters.

You hurriedly brushed the items off the edge of the bed, some of the pens rolling across the hardwood while Draken grabbed your hair up into a makeshift ponytail and began fucking into you relentlessly.

“Ah ah ah ah! Ken!”

The bed squeaked and rocked, the headboard banging loudly against the wall that was sure to have your neighbors pissed at you, but how could you care when you were getting the best fucking reward? Literally.

Draken slowed down and eased himself in and out of you to let you hear the squelch of your wet pussy a few times before he was buried deep once again.

“Shit girl, your greedy pussy is squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Something in him snapped, and the next thing you knew, his entire weight was pressing down on you as he pulled your arms behind your back and held your wrists against your ass.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Draken pummeled your pussy with ferocity until the both of you were moaning each others’ names out and spiraling into mind-numbing orgasms.

Finally, you were released and your fatigued body collapsed into the soft mattress.

You could still feel your legs twitching while simultaneously your cunt contracted, releasing a thick gush of Draken’s cum.

Soft pecks were then pressed into your sweaty back until you rolled over to face your handsome lover, eyes fluttering dangerously as the urge to sleep swept over you.

“Rest for now. When you wake up, we’ll be on to the next subject.”

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tarjapearce · 8 months

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Lips anon! Mm just imagine, Black Widow Reader webbing up Miguel all dosed up on her venom and riding him. He's absolutely fucked out his mind, his heart racing with primal fear and arousal. And you're still rolling your hips on his cock. Your little toy. You caress him and praise him, he growls occasionally. He's red and sweaty all over. Teary eyed and fangs bared. What a cutie. Your cutie~

Jeeesh, just shuddered 🥴❤️ nsfw undercut

Bit of Sub! Miguel

"C'mon Boss" You panted for the umpteenth time as your hips smacked ontop of his. His cock twitched at the tightness it was put under.

His breath mixed with low growls as he approached once more at his climax. He thought he could handle you, handle the venom, trying to immunize himself against it. But every try backfired at him, big time.

You might have given him a bit extra than he could actually manage, just out of revenge for him not putting you in a mission after keeping you in the dark for quite the time. His own punishment for you after you left him with a raging boner.

"Fuck!" You whimpered as his hot cum painted your walls once more. Your talons dug in his waist, a wet mess between you both. Both yours and his hot seed splattered on his lower abdomen and your inner thighs. Mating season was still on for you. And every time he came, it made your body sing in momentary relief at your raging need.

"One more" You gasped and he threw his head back, a croak as he tried once more to unleash himself from your webs.

"You're so delicious" Your hand grabbed his front bangs, and made him look at you as your hips begun their rough and desperate attempts to milk him dry, again. He had lost count after the fourth one.

"L-Lyla" He choked as your sunk yourself as deep as you could in a go. Sheathing him so snuggly and delicious.

You wailed and his voice was cut off as you wrapped your hands around his neck. Your needy, preying and low key deranged expression made his aching and overstimulated cock to twitch and the urge to keep buried inside you stronger than ever

"Heart rates are still normal, Boss. You're not dying anytime soon!" Lyla's ever playful voice echoed from his watch.

"How... How the f-" He was cut

He hissed and your pace increased, Rough and constant friction were surely overriding his senses, his voice gave low and borderline pathetic moans. It hurted so so good.

"I f-fucking swear..." He rasped but yelped with such desperation it made your eyes twinkle in amusement.

"But Miguel~" You hissed the word as you now supported your hands on his knees, even though his eyes were teary and his head felt spinning at the raw pleasure, he could still see you, moving your hips up and down to a pace he wouldn't be able to forget even if his life depended on it. Sweet moans and praises fell off your mouth.

"You have such a good cock, I need it." A pant, your nails dug on his skin, drawing blood, "Keeping it to yourself isn't nice." You spoke between raged croaks. The obscene and sloppy sounds your cunt and his his spilled cum made, didn't help in placate your need for him.

"Y-You shouldn't be selfish" Your walls purposely constricted against him and he inhaled sharply, eyes widening as his jaw clenched. Pleasure was devastating his mind. No coherent words could float out of his mouth, just sounds he never thought hearing himself doing.

"Please-" He choked as his body tensed and you received another warm load, your legs shook and your womb hoarded his seed like no tomorrow.

"You're so good when you cum inside me" You stilled for a moment, earning his cock a much needed break. You mouth kissed him deeply, and his eyes drooped, heavy in something he couldn't describe. It wasn't lust but something much more raw and consuming than that.

And there it was again, that fire that would surely made your bones ache in protest the next day. But it didn't matter. None of that mattered

"One more, Please, I'm so so close!"

"No puedo-" His torso heaved as his body screamed for you, "Por Dios, no p-puedo-" (I can't)

He whimpered and clenched his jaw once more, drowning the sudden moan your vice like grip insides trapped him in. Your stamina surely matched his, but this time your venom had knocked all those stats down. He didn't know if to feel terrified or aroused at the fact you had gotten him so out of his mind, it was worse than Rapture, but difference was that the only thing he actually craved was you.

"You can" You gasped, "Gimme one more, Miguel" Your grip on his throat sent shivers down his spine. His arms felt numb at this point but the rest of his body was on fire, slicked in sweat and cum. Your laugh mixed with the sweetest and lewd groanings he could ever hear from you. His once pristine hair fell over his face, obscuring his heated and embarrassed expression

"You're such a good fuck toy" the nickname earned him a growl and his fangs to bare at you. Breast bounced before him, it was almost hypnotic how your hands grope, squeezed and toyed with yourself.

"Fu.. Fuck you" He mumbled as he felt that ominous pressure building up inside him. His lungs gave paused and deep breathings trying to not break, something you were determined to do. You biting at the tender spot between his neck and shoulder was enough for him to give a gurgling growl as he came inside you with a choked whimper. Your forehead against his and panting in each other's mouths. Your walls trapped and milked him. Finally, relieving completely your heat.

"Such a good good boss for me"

His head almost nuzzled your hand as you caressed his cheek. He was your favorite prey.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara smut

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unsolved-duvall · 1 year

Text

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 - 𝐞.𝐦. (𝟏𝟖+)

eddie munson x fem!reader

7.9k words (i'm so sorry)

summary you and eddie have been friends for years, and you've both been in love with each other for as long as you can remember. neither of you realise it though, until one night, where that might finally change.

fluff, smut, idiots in love. friends to lovers <3

warnings talks of insecurities, mentions of anxiety, mentions of a bad relationship with parents. reader struggles with her emotions a lot (i don't know if that needs a warning but just in case!). some smut at the end, so 18+! minors i will chase you away with a stick if i have to.

“You look perfect, I promise” Eddie leant against the doorway to his bedroom, watching as you desperately adjusted your skirt and fishnet tights in front of his mirror. The outfit you were wearing wasn’t much different to your usual attire, but you had never been to a concert before, and you wanted to look the part - Eddie had assured you it didn’t matter what you wore, that no one there would judge you or even be looking at you, too busy watching the band perform. But it wasn’t everyone else you were worried about. It was Eddie. And you so desperately wanted Eddie to look at you.

If someone was to ask you when you fell in love with Eddie you weren’t sure you could give them an answer. The truth was you didn’t remember when it happened, all you knew was that you fell hard and fast. Even before you two had spoken one word to each other, you were sure you were already completely enamoured by him. You would catch yourself staring at him at school, entranced by everything he did. Constantly holding doors open for girls walking behind him, or stopping mid-theatrics in the middle of the cafeteria to let that group of girls walk past him, throwing his arms behind his back. Gestures so subtle that no one else noticed, or if they did they simply ignored them.

You had learnt that teenagers found it much easier to view people one-dimensionally, and the minute someone doesn’t act the way they’re expected to, people become uncomfortable. Eddie was seen as an outcast and freak from day one; he was never going to change that. So, it was easier for him to lean into the role, fitting into the mould that everyone else had made for him. Your point was, you always admired how kind and considerate Eddie was to the people around him, even though they never showed him the same respect back.

When you and Eddie finally started talking and became friends, you realised that he was possibly the sweetest person you had ever met, and your feelings became all-consuming. Also, it didn’t help that Eddie was annoyingly good-looking. Like bang-your-head-against-the-wall-pretty. Eddie had a way of making you go dumb when he looked at you. His big doe eyes were like a weapon he didn’t even realise he possessed, you were sure he held the whole universe in them. And, when you sat close enough to him, you could see the freckles that painted his face like constellations in the night sky, across his nose and cheeks. Seeing Eddie smile was your favourite thing in the entire world, especially those smiles that reached his eyes and lit up his whole face. If his face was the only one you could look at for the rest of your life, you would be perfectly content with that.

Eddie’s voice broke through the thoughts swirling around in your head about how you looked, starting to overwhelm you. You lifted your head and looked up into the mirror, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “There she is, you zoned out on me there for a sec” A small smile graced his face as he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked to stand in front of you, stopping you from being able to stare at yourself in the mirror anymore, he could tell you were starting to feel anxious, his eyes dropping to watch your fingers tangle together, nails scratching at the back of your hands.

Eddie hated that you were so self-conscious, he wished he could take away all your anxieties and worries. Listen, Eddie wasn’t a violent guy, and he would be the first to admit that - he had only gotten into two physical fights in his life, both of them when he was much younger, just after his dad was sent to prison; both of the fights were caused by someone telling Eddie he was gonna grow up to be ‘“just like his dad” and before he even realised what he was doing he was throwing punches. Both times Wayne had comforted Eddie afterwards, sitting with him for hours just listening to him shout and scream and cry. Wayne knew he was just a small kid with a lot of big emotions, that he had no idea how to handle. “It’s okay kid, it’ll be okay.” Wayne tried his best to comfort him, but also be a father figure to him, sometimes he worried he was being too soft, and other times he worried he was being too harsh. But Eddie wouldn’t be the man he was today without his Uncle, so he obviously did something right.

With all that being said, Eddie was certain that if your feelings were a person? Without a shadow of a doubt, he would beat them to a pulp for making you feel so awful all the time.

Eddie delicately held both your hands, stopping them from fighting with each other, he didn’t miss the heat that rushed to your cheeks at the small action. “Listen” He murmured quietly, although in the quiet of his room he still sounded loud “there’s no rush, s’just we really are going to be late if we don’t leave now” He didn’t actually care about being late, he just wanted to stop you getting more worried than you already were.

“Oh shit, m’sorry. Yeah, okay I’m ready, let’s go” Eddie gave your hands a tight squeeze and then let them go, you silently cursed yourself for wishing that he had kept holding them. “S’okay, do you need a jacket or anything?” Eddie asked as he lead you out of his room. “No Eds I don’t need a jacket, we’ll be inside the whole night” You responded trying to sound as normal as possible, but all you could think about was his hand on the lower dip of your back as he followed you to the front door. “You are cold literally all of the time! I’ve seen you wear coats in June and it’s mid-Winter right now, forgive me for assuming you would be cold tonight!” Eddie laughed as he said it. “I’ll be fine Munson.”

“Okay fine I’ll take your word for it. But I swear I’m not giving you my jacket if you realise I’m right and start freezing your ass off.”

You laughed and turned your head to look at him, that signature smirk on his face. “You got it.” You both knew he was going to give you his jacket anyway.

Eddie jumped into the van, getting ready to drive. Within about ten seconds his face dropped completely. “What’s wrong?” you asked curiously.

“Uh, so you know how sometimes I get distracted and then I forget to do things that were really important?” Eddie avoided looking at you as he spoke, you already had an idea of where this was going. “Yeah that’s kind of your thing” you giggled. “Heh yeah so uh it shouldn't really surprise you if I told you I kinda forgot to fill the van up?” Eddie asked innocently, it really was impossible to be mad at him when he looked like that. “Wait we don’t have any gas?” You asked him.

“Shit Y/N I’m so sorry. I was meant to run errands the other day and then I got this idea for a new campaign - It’s actually really cool I wanna tell you about it later - and anyway then I started writing that down and then Wayne came home and-”

“Eddie!” you cut him off with an exasperated laugh.

“ What?” Eddie asked abruptly, finally looking at you. “Breathe!” you reminded him.

“Oh yeah m’sorry I just, I didn’t want you to think I had done this on purpose and I really didn’t I just- I’m rambling again. Shit sorry.” Eddie finally stopped talking and took the keys out of the ignition in defeat. “So I’m guessing the concert is a no-go,” you asked him quietly.

“I mean, hey we could always walk it” Eddie laughed “but uh we probably wouldn't get there for about twelve hours”

“Huh, I think we might miss the band if we did that.”

“Yeah probably” Eddie took a breath and started fiddling with his rings, you could tell he was disappointed; truthfully you weren’t that bothered. Sure it would have been amazing to go to your first concert, but you had already worked out that with no gas in the van you would end up staying at Eddie's tonight, and a night in with Eddie was one of your favourite things.

“Hey” you nudged Eddie’s arm with your hand, just trying to get his attention. “It’s okay. I mean there’ll be other concerts, right? We’ll try again then- I’ll drive us next time, no offence or anything” Eddie finally laughed again as you finished talking. “Yeah s’probably for the best.” You both silently got out of the van and walked back into the warmth of the trailer, neither of you felt the need to ask the other if you were going to stay the night, that question didn’t even need to be asked anymore, you both just knew you were always welcome. More than welcome, Eddie hated the nights you weren’t there, and he kept telling himself it was perfectly normal to feel that way towards his best friend.

Back in the trailer, you both stood in the kitchen as Eddie searched through cupboards looking for something to eat. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something? I was meant to go grocery shopping for Wayne but I uh, forgot” Eddie leant against the kitchen counter, his guilty face illuminated by the dim lights above him.

“Why does that not surprise me even a little bit” you shook your head, holding back a laugh as you said it, you hated how endearing you found him. He looked at you with a feigned hurt as his mouth dropped open “You wound me, princess”.

Before you could retaliate by reminding him that not ten minutes ago he announced he had also forgotten to fill up the van with gas, the exact thing that led to you being stuck at Eddie’s trailer for the night, he walked across the room and picked up the phone “What kind of pizza do you want sweets?”.

“I don’t mind Eds, just get your favourite” you mumbled as you walked over to throw yourself down on the sofa, trying to hide how your whole body seemed to react to the nickname. You really needed to work on the whole subtlety thing.

Eddie did order a pizza; he ordered what he knew was your favourite, not his.

He always did this, if there was anything he could do to make you happy, you best believe he would crawl to the ends of the earth to do it. Like when your car broke down and had to be in the garage for a week; Eddie picked you up for school every morning. Sure, it meant he had to wake up an hour earlier than normal, and then drive all the way across town to your house, which was in the opposite direction of the school, to get you. But he promised you he didn’t mind. And he really didn’t. So much so that when your car was fixed, Eddie offered to carry on carpooling with you anyway, he told you it was just easier that way.

“Look, this way you don’t have to waste money on gas, and it’ll stop me from getting bored having to drive on my own. Plus uh, you know, if I’m getting you every morning I might actually graduate this year, turning up on time for school will help with that I ‘spose” Eddie laughed awkwardly as he finished speaking, whilst fiddling with his rings, as you sat across from him in his van. That last part was absolutely true and Eddie knew it. The rest of it was just an excuse to spend time with you. You didn’t need to know that though.

“Okay, Eds, only if you’re sure though, I don’t wanna be a pain in the ass or anything”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie was sure you were joking but then he met your eyes and saw how uncertain you looked - it didn’t matter that you two had been friends for years now, you were still sure that you were a bother to everyone around you. Eddie knew you struggled with feeling secure in your relationships, platonic or romantic. Eddie also knew this was because of your parents; growing up with a mom and dad who made sure to let you know just how much you disrupted their lives, by simply existing, left you with a sort of unhealthy worldview. To put it mildly. You found it nearly impossible to believe that someone could actively choose to have you be a part of their life, let alone change their life to better fit you into it. - Eddie had seen that look on your face a million times, he hated that you saw yourself as such a burden, so instead of making one of his signature sarcastic comments, Eddie said “Y/N do you know how important you are to me? Do you think I would bestow the title of best friend on just anyone? No, absolutely not sweetheart - that title is an honour and it is saved for just you” You giggled as he began his theatrics, voice going all dramatic and hands flying around in emphasis. “So I never want to hear this bullshit about being a pain in my ass again, okay?”

“Okay” heat rushed to your cheeks and you held back a love-struck smile as you looked at Eddie. You really hoped he didn’t notice.

Of course he did, he noticed everything about you. But he somehow still didn’t believe that you were in love with him. Or that he was in love with you. Actually, that was a lie, he knew that he was in love with you, but he promised himself he would never act on those feelings. He tried to push them down and pretend they didn’t exist. He would ignore the way his heart raced whenever he first saw you in the mornings, all smiles accompanied by a small wave as you walked over to his van. He ignored the way that he felt his skin set on fire whenever your hand touched his arm. Or how he felt like the only time anyone really looked at him, was when you looked at him. He knew that if he let himself, his feelings would become all-consuming. So he kept a lock on them, constantly holding the floodgates closed, in hopes that he wouldn’t someday wake up and himself drowning in them. No, Eddie had decided long ago that losing you would be far worse than living with his (what he believed to be) unrequited feelings.

Once Eddie had ordered the pizza he sat down next to you on the sofa, expecting you to lean against him like you normally did. You had always been touchy-feely, always needing to have physical contact with him. Whether it was a hand resting on his arm, or your legs being delicately thrown over his lap whilst you both sat and talked until the early hours of the morning. “Hey” he bumped your shoulder with his, rousing you from your thoughts and you pulled your gaze from the television, where old cartoons were playing silently and looked at him. “Hey to you too” you whispered back.

“I really am sorry we couldn’t go to the concert” he murmured sheepishly. You saw the genuine guilt on his face and it was hard not to reach over and hug him. “I’m an idiot” he continued to talk when you didn’t reply. “You really are an idiot’ you said with fake seriousness, his mouth dropped and he scoffed, trying to look offended by your words. You leaned into him more and laughed “But you’re my idiot, so it’s okay. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” You told him, and you saw him bite back a smile, trying to hide how smitten he was with you.

“Right back at you sweets”

“Eddie Munson are you saying I’m an idiot too” you pulled back your head from where it had dropped onto his shoulder and looked at him properly for the first time you had walked back into the trailer, you felt your cheeks heat up from your close proximity to him.

“What- no, no I just meant like, I wouldn’t want you any other way either! Y’know? You’re pretty damn perfect” Eddie spoke those last words so quietly you almost didn’t hear them.

“I don't think so. I think you’re just biased. I’ve tricked you into liking me actually, didn’t you know that?” you giggled as Eddie reacted to what you said. “Oh yeah? And how have you done that?” Eddie leant further away from you so he could really look at you. “Well I can’t tell you that or it would ruin it! But we both know it wasn’t my sparkling personality that won you over” you joked.

When you met Eddie you were in a pretty bad place mentally, you had never gotten along with your parents but it got really bad a couple of years ago, around the same time you became friends; safe to say you weren’t much fun to be around. You still struggled to understand why Eddie had even bothered to spend the time breaking through the walls you had put up around yourself, but he did. And you loved him for that, no one else had ever spent so much time getting to know who you really were.

“Don’t say that. It actually was your dazzling personality that did it for me I’ll have you know. You might not like yourself sometimes but I’m a pretty big fan, you’re the only thing your damn parents did right, I should probably thank them for that one day.” You pulled your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, looking away from Eddie and back to the cartoons playing. “You’re so cheesy” It was all you could think to say, he was being sweet again and you didn’t trust yourself to say much more without giving away how desperately in love you were.

Before you could register what was happening Eddie had jumped up abruptly and was halfway across the room, leaning down to put music on. “What’re you doing’ you asked him. “Jus’ though that even if we can’t go to the concert that doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun” He turned and held his hand out for you to take, a smile plastered on his face, the kind of smile that felt like he had swept you off your feet into a tight hug. You couldn’t say no to Eddie, so you reached your hand out and he grabbed it, pulling you up gently.

The music kicked in and you laughed as Eddie started singing along to it “What’re we doing?” you shouted slightly so he could hear your voice over the song. “We’re being rockstars, what else?” Eddie let go of your hand and suddenly started singing more energetically, hands flailing around him as he danced to the music - it wasn’t good dancing, but in his defence, it was kind of hard to dance to his kind of music.

You watched him and couldn’t stop the laughs that bubbled up inside of you, “Come on princess don’t leave me to do this alone, I’ll look ridiculous by myself!” You shook your head and then started singing as loud as you could. Eddie shouted in delight and joined back in, watching as you sang and danced around the living room, the only lights being a small lamp in the corner and the TV set illuminating the room. You don’t know how long you did this for, you must have gone through three or four songs, both of you acting like you were on stage, Eddie even did air guitar at one point. That made you stop and keel over laughing, you knew he could play the guitar, but his air guitar was awful, not even trying to make it look realistic. You loved it.

“Dance with me” You stopped your little performance - you thought you were doing pretty good if you did say so yourself - and looked at Eddie. “We are dancing” You responded. “No, dance with me.” Eddie walked over to you and his fingers grazed yours. “Eds we can’t exactly dance to this” you retaliated, though you still let him hold your hands in his bigger ones. “Sure we can” smiled “Just follow my lead”. He went to move one hand to your waist and hesitated before holding you, checking that this was okay with you. You smiled and nodded gently. One of your hands was still in his, and the other you had rested on his shoulder. He started swaying you both back and forth and you couldn’t help but bite back a smile

“Eddie this is ridicu-”

“Shh, jus’ dance with me. Ignore the music, kay?” Eddie looked at you so seriously that your breath almost hitched in your throat.

“Okay” Your voice was so quiet you were surprised he even heard you.

You and Eddie danced around the living room without saying another word to the other. The light from the TV flashing across both your faces. Eddie swirled you around and then pulled you in closer than you were before, chests almost touching. He stared right into your eyes and you did the same right back. You felt the mood change suddenly, but also not suddenly. Like you had both been waiting months for a chance like this, neither of you being brave enough to initiate anything until tonight. A haze fell over you and felt your whole body lean into him more, almost involuntarily. Like there had always been some invisible string connecting both of you, and you were finally going to stop fighting it.

With Eddie’s hands on your lower back and yours thrown around his neck, time seemed to stop. You couldn’t even hear the music anymore, all you could think about was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. And how perfect he looked, how dark his eyes were, how his hair around his face and all you wanted to do was tangle your hands in it. You felt him move one of his hands up your back, all the way up to rest on your cheek, his thumb moving in small circles just under your eye. “Y/N I-”

A loud, abrupt knock on the door had both of you jumping back about a mile. “Shit, the pizza” Eddie froze for a moment then seemed to snap out of it, he turned off the music and grabbed his money to pay for the pizza. You stood there not saying anything as you tried to process what had just happened. What could have happened. Your brain was all fuzzy and your hands felt shaky and you hated how overwhelmed you get with everything.

You sat down on the sofa and turned the sound back on the TV. Were you supposed to say something? Act as if nothing had happened? You had no idea. Eddie had thanked the guy for the pizza and he brought it over to you, placing it between you both, sitting down on the other end of the sofa.

Shit. You had messed up. But he had been the one who held you like that, he was the one who pulled you closer. Shit, shit, shit. You didn’t want to lose your best friend.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, you followed his eye line down and saw how aggressively you were messing with your hands. You hadn’t even realised you were doing it. Fuck. “Yeah, m’fine. Hungry” You grabbed a piece of pizza and stared straight ahead at the TV.

Eddie didn’t push the matter. He was terrified he had just ruined everything, he tried so hard to push his feelings down, but at that moment he just couldn’t anymore. For a moment he thought you were okay with it, for a crazy second he swore you looked just as dizzy in love as he did. But then you both had to jump apart and you didn’t say anything. He brought the pizza over, and you still didn’t say anything. He sat away from you so you didn’t feel like he was trying to push himself on you. And just then you had so obviously brushed him off like you didn’t even want to look at him anymore. Shit, he thought, nice job asshole, you scared her away.

You both sat and ate the pizza in silence, watching whatever was playing on the TV. You finally braved a look over at Eddie and you couldn’t for the life of you work out the expression on his face. Annoyance? Hurt? His eyes were glued to the TV and his lips were pressed together in a firm line. You uncrossed your legs and stood up “Bathroom” you simply said to Eddie, walking faster than normal, not wanting him to notice how your eyes had started to water, or how your lip was quivering.

You shut the door behind you and rested all your weight against it. Desperately trying to stop the tears you could feel threatening to fall. Your hands rested by your side, palms on the door as you steadied yourself. Closing your eyes you made a split decision that when you walked out of the bathroom you would tell Eddie you were feeling ill, with any luck he’d believe you and you could both go to bed.

Before you left the bathroom you walked in front of the mirror and stared back at yourself. Your eyeliner had smudged slightly from the tears you couldn’t stop, and the colour had drained from your face, how did you look so wrecked just from what had happened? Nothing had even happened! It was just the rush of so many emotions that had washed over you during the past hour. You shook your head, almost trying to shake the thoughts about Eddie out of your mind. It didn't work.

When you walked out of the bathroom you saw Eddie standing in the kitchen. His back to you as he put the leftover pizza in the fridge, then grabbed a post-it note and pen. Presumably to write a note to Wayne letting him know there was food left for him. You stood in the bathroom doorway for a second and then took a shaky breath before you walked to the kitchen, standing next to Eddie near the counter.

“I’m not feeling so-”

“Did you want to-”

You both spoke over each other and then cut yourselves off as you awkwardly waited for the other to speak. “Uh sorry, what’d you say?” Eddie looked at you with those doe eyes again and you felt your heart break. Again. “S’just that I’m not feeling so good” you saw the sudden panic spread across his face and instantly regretted saying it. “M’just tired I think, It’s been a long night. We should probably both just go to sleep, yeah?” You leaned back against the counter and you could just make out Eddie’s face drop slightly, features illuminated in the light of the fridge he had left open. He had turned out the lamp that was on before, you noticed. Making it even darker than it had been before.

He moved to stand in front of you and his eyes flicked across your face, so quickly you almost missed it. Then, almost too casually he just said “Oh yeah okay, that’s fine. D’you want me to sleep out here, you want some space?” You normally just slept in the same bed, it had never bothered you, or Eddie, before. The fact that he asked you that question told you everything you needed to know. He could see through the whole facade you were putting up. You dropped your gaze to the wall behind Eddie and crossed your arms over your chest. “No, no it's not- I don’t want you to leave me alone or anything” your voice was so quiet Eddie had to lean in slightly to make out what you were saying. “I just uh, I guess. Fuck” you were getting visibly frustrated with yourself and Eddie didn’t quite know what was going on with you.

“Y/N hey. Look at me.” Eddie’s soft voice rang out through the deafening silence and you felt tears starting to prick at your eyes again. No, no, no, you could not cry. Not right now. “Okay, why don’t I go get some blankets and pillows and we can sit on the sofa, watch a film or something yeah? M’not that tired, you can fall asleep though if you need sweets.”

You finally broke your gaze from the wall behind Eddie as he started to move away from you. Before you realised what you had done, you grabbed his wrist and he stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to face you, his eyebrows raising in a silent question. Your grip on his wrist loosened a bit and he took the opportunity to intertwine his fingers with yours, in an attempt to ground you. “Can you jus’ stay with me for a second” you whispered timidly.

“Yeah. Yeah ‘of course I can. I can do whatever you want me to, you know that. You just need to tell me what you need.” Eddie whispered back just as quietly as you had.

“Don’t say stuff like that” you were right on the edge, you were so overwhelmed. You just needed him, needed to be close to him.

“Why not?” Eddie squeezed your hand and you were back in the position you were at the start of the night. Eddie stood in front of you, holding your hand, trying to get you out of your own mind. Eddie was the only person you could do that. Make you feel okay again.

‘Because” you replied, your voice straining as you said it.

“Because what, sweetheart” Eddie breathed. He was right on the edge with you.

Fuck it.

Your free hand reached up to grab the back of his neck and you pulled Eddie into you. Your lips meeting so softly and quickly that you almost didn’t register what has happened. But it had happened. You had kissed Eddie. You pulled back and stared at Eddie, you saw the shock wash over his face and for a minute you thought the worst.

But then he reached up with both hands to cup your cheeks and smashed his lips onto yours. It felt real this time. You didn’t even hesitate for a second, kissing Eddie back with just as much need as he kissed you. Your lips slotting together perfectly, like you were made to kiss only each other. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt as you desperately pulled him closer, mouths moving against each others in perfect harmony, you both moved at exactly the right time, kissing deeper and longer each time.

Kissing Eddie felt like floating and drowning at the same time. It felt like falling into bed after an impossibly long day. It felt like that first sip of water you take in the morning. It felt like waking up to snow when you were a child. It felt like everything you ever needed.

You only pulled away from each other when you physically couldn't breathe anymore. Both leaning your foreheads against each other as you breathed heavily, trying to get your breaths back.

“Fuck sweetheart” Eddie lowered his hands to your waist and you felt electricity run through you everywhere his hands were. “Uh-huh” was all you could say in response, you weren’t sure words would come out even if you tried to speak. “Are you okay? M’sorry I didn’t mean to get so um. You just, you kissed me and I. We don’t have to do this, I know you’re not feeling-” You smiled and it stopped Eddie from talking. “Just kiss me, Eddie”.

You didn’t have to ask him twice. He smiled a giddy smile and kissed you again. Your hands moved to rest at the nape of his neck and you tilted your head, letting Eddie kiss you more. That was all you wanted. More, more, more. He felt like your life-support.

Eddie could feel the desperation from the way your hands pulled gently at his hair and he had to hold back a whimper. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip, silently asking for permission. You granted it immediately, opening your mouth and letting Eddie slip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss. You let out an honest-to-goodness moan, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed.

You just kept kissing Eddie.

All you could think about was his tongue in your mouth and how soft his lips felt. How soft his hair was between your fingers as you pulled on it gently. How perfect his hands are on your cheeks, waist, neck, everywhere, all at once. It was so overwhelming, in the most perfect way.

Eddie pushed you back slightly so that you were completely pressed up against the counter. You separated for only a split second so you could take a breath, but Eddie didn’t go far. His lips trailed down your jaw and to your neck, kissing every bit of your skin he could.

You threw your head back, exposing more of your neck for Eddie to kiss. He left little open-mouth kisses all over. He felt your whole body shiver and he realised he’d found your sweet spot. He smiled into your neck and doubled his efforts, alternating between sucking and kissing you right there, his teeth grazing over it occasionally. Your whole body was on fire, you were sure of it.

You reached your hands deeper into Eddie’s hair and pushed him further into your neck “Fuck Eddie it’s so-”

“What sweetheart” Eddie mumbled into your neck, not letting up for even a second.

“Feels so good Eds” you whimpered out and Eddie swore he died there and then. He sucked harder on your sweet spot and licked his tongue over it to soothe it.

You pulled him back up you and smashed your mouth into his with so much desperation that they met with a clatter of teeth and noses banging into each other, but it was all you needed. This time you pushed your tongue into his mouth and his thumb rubbed soft circles into your cheek. You made out for who knows how long, it might have been five minutes or an hour, but you couldn’t tell anymore. All you know is at some point Eddie lifted you onto the counter and his hand went to your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You lowered your mouth to Eddie's neck, just like he had done to you, and you didn’t let up until he was outright moaning, pulling your body as close to his as was physically possible. “Angel we should stop” Eddie managed to moan out.

You stopped instantly and raised your head to look at him “Are you okay?” you asked, sounding just as fucked out as you felt. He had barely touched you and you were a goner.

“Am I okay? Shit sweetheart. Yeah, I’m okay, S’just” Eddie’s hands were rubbing up and down your back, as he spoke to you. “We should probably stop now, right?”

You knew what Eddie was asking. “What if I don’t want to stop,” you replied quietly.

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t” Eddie let out a shaky breath and you felt his grip on you get a little bit tighter.

“Sweetheart, I really need you to tell me exactly what it is you want here.”

Fuck it. “I want you to touch me, Eddie”

Within a second Eddie had lifted you off the counter and carried you over to the sofa, laying you down as he hovered above you, going back to kissing you instantly. His hands on either side of your head, holding himself up.

You wrapped your legs back around Eddie's waist, silently begging him to come closer. He obliged as he rested more of his weight on you, grinding his hips down ever so gently, but it was enough to pull a moan from the back of your throat.

“Yeah, sweetheart” Eddie smirked down at you and moved to kiss your neck. “That feel good?”

“Eddie- fuck, more” Your eyes felt so heavy and all you could focus on was how good he was making you feel already. You raised your hips slightly, trying to get the pressure just where you needed it; but you were so fucked out that your movements were erratic and desperate. Eddie laughed quietly and kept grinding his hips into, going a bit harder as he realised this was without a doubt what you wanted. Using his hand that wasn’t holding him up to grab onto your hip, gently moving his hand under the fabric so it was resting on your small bit of skin that was now exposed.

“Shit angel keep making those pretty noises for me, kay? Can you do that?” Eddie lifted his head from your neck and watched your face, your eyes almost shut and your mouth dropped open slightly; your cheeks flushing a bright crimson.

When you didn’t answer him he stopped moving his hips and you let out a desperate whimper. And Eddie had to hold himself back from fucking you there and then, he never imagined you’d be so pretty like this. “Look at me, hey. I said are you gonna keep making those pretty noises for me?” Eddie dipped down to press a chaste kiss to your mouth. “Use your words sweetheart”

“fuck.. yeah please.. please just” Your legs tightened their hold on his waist and you tried so hard to compose yourself. “Jus’ touch me. Please”

“Okay okay. I’ve got you sweets.” Eddie moved his hand so slowly you were sure he was teasing you. Which he was to some extent, but he also just wanted you to have time to change your mind.

Eddie’s hand grazed your thigh and his fingers gently began to move your skirt up around your hips. “‘S this okay love?”

Fuck. The pet names were going to be the death of you. “Yes yes please, ‘s more than okay” You sounded so breathless that Eddie moved back to kiss you again, he wasn’t sure if he did it to calm you or calm himself. As your mouths moved against each other, his fingers rested on your panties and his breath hitched as he felt how wet you were.

“Jesus baby why didn’t you say something sooner? You’re dripping angel”

“Mhm. ‘M sorry”

“Don’t say sorry. Jus’ wish I’d known sooner. Shit, thought about you like this so much.” Eddie grazed his fingers over you again and you moved your hips against his hand, you didn’t know if it was his hand or his words that had you whimpering out little breathless ‘please’ and ‘ed’s’ but it seemed to be all you could say anymore.

“‘M right here okay, don’t need to beg pretty, not this time anyway” Eddie’s eyes locked with yours again as he dipped his fingers under the fabric covering your cunt and dragged his fingers through your folds, coating his fingers in you before he started to rub over your clit.

“Oh fuck- holy shit” Your back arched off the sofa and Eddie didn’t break eye contact with you for one second, completely in awe of how reactive you were being with him. Sure he’d slept with other people before, but they’d never been like you were. You were so sensitive to everything he did, all he’d done was rub small, slow circles over your clit and you were putty in his hands.

“You’re so sensitive sweetheart. ‘S it always like this? or is this just for me?” Eddie dipped his head down to your neck again and started sucking on your sweet spot - making you mewl and whimper underneath him even more than you already were.

“Never like this.. oh shit.. ‘s just you. you’re so good” You were just saying words at this point, your brain couldn’t keep up with your mouth. You pushed your head back into the sofa even more, trying to expose more of your neck for Eddie to kiss and mark.

Eddie made some unintelligible noise into your neck to let you know he’d heard what you just said. His two fingers halted their movements and your eyes flew open to see what he was doing. He smirked at your reaction, shit if you got this desperate each time he was a dead man.

He moved one finger down and slowly dipped it inside yoy. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan and your hands grabbed at Eddie’s t-shirt desperately. He knew what you were asking for before you even had time to ask. He sat up slightly, removing his hand from your cunt, and pulled his t-shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the living room. You had seen Eddie topless a few times, but you had always made an effort not to stare, excusing yourself from the room or just averting your eyes. But now you were staring without shame, and was so pretty.

You reached up for him again and wrapped your arms around his back. He leant back down to his previous position and moved his hand back down to where you so desperately needed him.

Eddie was trying to be a gentleman here, and take it slow. But he could feel how desperate he was now. He looked at your face again as he took two of his fingers and dipped them inside you.

“Oh fuck.. ed’s” You moaned out as his fingers started moving in and out of you. You couldn’t get over how perfect this all felt, it wasn’t even slightly awkward. But that was probably helped by how talented Eddie was with his fingers. He does play guitar, you thought. Of course.

Eddie didn’t move down to kiss you again, and when you tried to lift your head up to him he tutted and you dropped it again confused. His hand resting next to your head fisted into the cushion you were resting your head on. “Stay there angel, I wanna see your face when you cum okay?”

You nodded your head so quickly he laughed breathily and whispered a quiet “good girl”.

Fuck. You were sure you died there and then.

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you let out the sweetest little sound he had heard you make all night. “Oh shit- you wanna be my good girl sweetheart?” Eddie had a shit-eating grin on his face, his fingers not faltering for even a second.

“Yeah,, oh god,, baby please”

You had never called Eddie anything like that before. But baby? Before he had realised what he was doing he had moved to have both of his legs encompassing one of yours, and he grinded his hips down onto your soft thigh. Desperate for some sort of friction.

You watched as Eddi moved against you and let out a tiny, almost inaudible moan. Shit, you made a mental note to make him make those sounds much more often.

Eddie curled his fingers up inside you and hit your sweet spot. Your nails dug into the skin of his back as you tried to ground yourself. Eddie made you feel like you were floating.

You felt the pressure building and building inside of you and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Eddie ‘m gonna cum” you breathed out.

Eddie snapped his head up from where his neck had dipped slightly, lost in how good you felt and sounded.

“Yeah baby? Gonna be a good girl and cum for me”

You whimpered and nodded your head, closing your eyes tightly as you felt that coil in your stomach tightening.

“Fuck angel come on. cum for me” Eddie kept his fingers moving just the way you needed him to. His eyes locked on your face, contorted in pleasure.

“Shit ed’s,, oh god,, please fuck” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. You just needed Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You were so drunk on him you felt dizzy. You didn’t even realise you were moaning his name over and over.

“I know sweetheart, I’m right here. Let go for me, come on”

That was all it took to push you over the edge, you felt that pressure run through you and it felt so so good. Your eyes screwed tightly shut and your mouth hanging open as your back arched, like your body was trying to get as close to Eddie as was humanly possible.

“That’s my girl. Fuck,, Jus’ let go for f’me” Eddie didn’t slow his fingers for even a second, determined to drag your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“Shit baby you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come” You barely heard Eddie over the ringing in your ears. Your whole body felt white-hot and you weren’t sure what noises you were making, but Eddie seemed to like them. Grinding his hips down on your thigh faster and harder. His own moans seemingly getting louder with every movement. Until you felt him drop his weight down onto you and bury his face in your neck.

Suddenly everything seemed to get too much and you pushed Eddie’s hand away from you, your whole body shaking. You opened your eyes and realised you had left marks all over Eddie’s back.

Eddie lifted his head from your neck and pulled his hand up to his mouth, before you could ask what he was doing he had dipped his fingers into his mouth as he licked you off of him.

That might have been the hottest thing you had ever seen. Eddie noticed the blush that crept onto your face and asked “You want a taste angel?”

You just grabbed his wrist and pulled his two fingers into your mouth, running your tongue over them again and again.

“Eddie that was-“

“Yeah”

You turned your head to the side trying to hide your face from. You don’t know why you were getting nervous now, but Eddie wasn’t having any of it. He gently grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer finger and lowered his lips to yours. Your mouth opening instantly to let his tongue run over your own.

You made out for a while, your hands intertwined. You both just needed a minute to breathe. Which was made slightly more difficult with his tongue in your mouth. But you worked around it.

After a while Eddie pulled back, not moving his body off you, just lifting his head enough to look at you. The hand that wasn’t holding yours pushed your hair back behind your ear. You blushed and he thought it was adorable that he had just made you come and yet that made you nervous.

“Hey uh if it wasn’t already obvious. I uh, am ridiculously in love with you.” You stared at Eddie, taking in his confession.

“I��m in love with you too, dumbass.”

authors note: this is the first fanficiton i have ever written, so it's safe to say i'm more than a little nervous to be posting it. this was originally meant to be a drabble so i have no idea how it got to 7.9k. also i'm sorry the smut is so bad and short! i had no idea how to write it so it kind of got cut short, regardless i hope you enjoyed it, maybe<3

also i'm sorry if there are any spelling or grammar errors! i proof read this once and then gave up <3

tags: @myobmaya @ali-r3n

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie smut #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson the love of my life

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