#it’s MY BABY BOY’S SPECIAL DAY BE NICE TO HIM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue lunch break visits, rocky road ice cream, a too-big bouquet, and the rainbow connection.

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You're dozing against the back wall in the kitchen when Benny clears his throat. The grease back here while he's cooking tends to get pretty thick and you're tired to begin with. It's a recipe for nodding off.

Flinching into a proper standing position, you give your boss an apologetic smile. "What?" you ask, blinking hard.

"Your boy's here."

"My boy?"

"Curly hair, tattoos. Looks like he hasn't showered this week. Or any week, actually." Benny laughs, a chesty, self-satisfied chuckle.

You rush to his side, careful of the spitting hot grill, and follow his gaze out of the kitchen window. Eddie's about two seconds away from opening the glass door, clad in his smart work uniform.

"He's not my boy," you say.

Benny scrapes his spatula across the grill's bubbling surface and flips a burger. "If he's the reason you're tired today, you can consider him banned. He's ruining my best waitress."

"I'm your only waitress." The door opens. Eddie stops in the doorway and casts his gaze around the room. You hide behind the wall and fuss with your hair. "And no, he's not keeping me up. It's Junie." Isn't it always Junie? She's your baby and you adore her, but that doesn't mean she's getting any easier to handle. The terrible twos are persevering with a ferocity you can't quite withstand, or at the very least sleep through.

"He eating?" Benny asks.

"I'll go find out."

You wipe the oil from your nose and grimace as you walk out into the actual seating area of the diner. It's empty but for one person and Eddie, who grins when he sees you.

"Hey, sweet thing."

You try not to show how much you like being called 'sweet thing'. Your face must betray you somehow because Eddie's grin turns smug and he approaches until he's basically stepping on your toes.

"How's it hanging?"

You snort. "Benny asked if you're eating."

"What's today's special?"

"Cheeseburger."

He fixes your shirt collar. You can feel the warmth of his fingers and the cooler metal of a ring grace your throat. "Yeah, I'm eating."

You report back to Benny with his order and find the cook's already added two burgers to the grill. He points his spatula at the now grilled and constructed burger for Darren. If you hadn't taken it you'd still know who's it was; Benny's regulars are loyal to a fault. The same old guys come in here day in and day out, and they all want the same thing.

Quarter pounders.

You take it, twist around a childish Eddie trying to trip you up and deliver it to Darren, a frowny-faced farm-hand that Benny swears is a nice guy deep down. You've yet to dig far enough.

Eddie tries to trip you up again when you come back. You glare at him, stepping on his toes gently – more a threat than a real show of aggression – and disappear again through the kitchen door.

"So." Benny throws down a basket of fries before moving to the chopping board with a fresh tomato in hand. "He's your boyfriend?"

"Do we have to do this?" you ask, joining him at the chopping board. You try to snag a slice of tomato and are quickly tutted away.

"Is he?"

"No," you say, trying again for some tomato.

"Kid, if you don't wait."

You pout and set back on your heels.

The burgers sizzle. Benny throws a slice of cheese over Eddie's and lets it melt. Quicker than you can believe, Benny constructs two burgers and fills a red plastic basket with fries.

He offers them to you. "Lunch break."

Free food. You smile at him sheepishly and try to take them. He pulls his arms back.

"Wha-"

"If he's your boyfriend, you better tell me now."

"Benny, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an adult. Already got knocked up once."

"And where is he now?"

Chastised, you mumble, "He's not my boyfriend," and Benny finally hands over the food. He looks like he might try to ruffle your hair if you stick around, so you knock open the kitchen door with your hip and make a speedy exit.

"What's with the face?" Eddie asks as you sit, reaching for the hot plate balancing across your forearm.

"I think Benny just tried to give me a dad talk."

He laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Really? What did he say?"

You shake your head. That's not a bag of worms you're interested in delving into right now. Your brains too fried, and the food smells great. Your stomach aches with hunger.

"You want a coke?" you ask.

Eddie stands up. "I'll get them. Sit down, okay?"

You sit down and shove a greedy handful of fries into your mouth, turning in your seat to watch Eddie talk.

He leans over the metal ledge of the kitchen window. It's quiet enough to hear him laugh, hear him say, "No, sir," in a tone that borders sarcastic.

He wields a five dollar bill at Benny, who shoots him down.

"Put it in the Junie jar," Benny says.

"Junie jar?" Eddie questions, though he's smiling.

Your eyebrows furrow at the expression. You've never heard it either.

"I don't bother pretending she spends it on anything else."

"You got that right."

You flush with heat all the way to to the tips of your ears and turn back to the table before Eddie can catch you watching.

He throws himself into his seat like he's collapsed. The twin cokes in his hands upheave and then splash back into themselves, an impressive and ridiculous show of skill that makes you gasp.

"For you." He shoves a glass down next to you. The ice cubes clink.

"Thank you," you say, and don't waste any time digging into your food.

He squints at your eager eating, though he waits until you've taken the worlds biggest bite of your burger before he asks, "Hungry?"

You swallow before you mean to and have to take a big sip of your drink to avoid choking to death. "I didn't eat breakfast."

"How come?"

You can't take his concern. Your eyes drop this hand where it picks through fries, no rings in sight. He’d told you once he can’t wear them at work, because he gets really warm and the rings are costume jewellery. His hands look bare without them, but they’re very nice hands. You follow the stark line of a bone down from his knuckles and focus in on his simple wrist watch as you explain.

"It took me an hour to get her to finish a slice of toast this morning. I usually wouldn’t make her finish, but she's not eating well."

You don't have to say who. Eddie tips his head back to eat a handful of fries like a courtesan eating grapes, all grandness.

"Teething?"

"She has all her teeth already," you say. A laugh bubbles up, delighted at his suggestion.

"What do you think it is?"

You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin and shrug. Eddie sees straight through your forced nonchalance.

"No, seriously. What do you think?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's gonna come down with the flu. She didn't sleep all night either, and…" You rub your tired eyes with the backs of your hands. "I don't know. I hope she's feeling better at pick up, but I doubt it."

"How are you feeling?" He says 'you' softly, almost crooning.

"Tired, Eds."

"I can see that."

The door opens and a breeze whips your ankles. You hide them further under the table and cringe when you kick Eddie straight in the foot. He only raises his eyebrow at you and kicks you back. "What's your problem?" he mumbles under his breath, smiling.

When the burgers are gone and there's only a couple of cold fries left, you and Eddie fall into conversation about tonight. He's finally playing a gig after months without one, and you're riddled with guilt.

"I wish I could come," you tell him, feeling gutted that you won't see him in action.

You wonder what he looks like on stage. Sometimes it's hard to coalesce the Eddie you know and the other Eddie, rocker Eddie. He's so sweet. The image of him on stage and sweating, rocking out, you can't summon it.

You clear your throat. "I'm sorry we can't."

Eddie shakes his head quickly, fingers playing with the chain around his left wrist. "Don't worry about it. Junebugs's gotta sleep. You gotta sleep."

You pick at your nails, shame-faced. If you were a good friend you'd go and see him perform, but you're a good mom so you can't. Maybe you could get a sitter… only you don't trust anybody to look after her. Not the way you would. And people can be evil.

Maybe I could take her to the Hideout, you think tentatively.

You couldn't. It's too loud, it's too rowdy. You're not sure they'd even let you in with a baby.

"Sorry," you say again, dropping your cheek into your palm.

Eddie doesn't smile. He turns his wrist, the back of his hand to the table and his palm open between you.

"Don't be sorry," he says. He watches your face and slowly, slowly, mischief creeps into his expression. "How about I give you a private show?"

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You and June've never heard me play. I could bring an amp. June can play drums. You'll sing."

His allocation shocks you out of your thoughts. "Why can't you sing?"

"What will you do, then? If I sing?"

You flounder.

He lifts his coke to his lips and smirks at your silence. "Exactly."

"Eddie, I can't sing."

He waves his hand at you rather than answer.

"I won't sing."

"Oh, you won't?" he asks, tone enough to make you cross your legs under the table. He rolls his eyes.

"No. Let Junie do it. She's always singing."

"And you'll-? What?"

You shrug. He imitates you, over-exaggerated enough to make you gasp a laugh.

“Is that supposed to be me?"

He ignores your question in favour of his own. "You'll do nothing. Typical."

"You're getting too big for your boots, Munson," you warn, sliding his plate on top of yours.

He stacks your empty glasses. The two of you stand and linger. He should go back to work. You should too.

"I'll come over tomorrow?" he asks finally.

"Okay." You look over him in his clean clothes and neater than usual hair and can't help smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say quietly, opening your arms just slightly.

Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms quickly around your shoulders, careful of the plates in your hand. He rubs them once, a good, grounding pressure across the breadth of your back. Your nose presses against his neck. He smells like aftershave and cigarette smoke and skin.

Before you know it he's pulling away, the end to an amicable embrace between friends. Almost disappointing, not quite what you want anymore, but a relief and a comfort all the same.

He chucks your chin. "Tell Junie I miss her."

"I will."

"Okay." He turns to walk away. "Bye, sweetheart," he shoots over his shoulder.

"Bye!" you call.

The door shudders in his wake. You stand there watching until Benny clears his throat pointedly and asks you to come and make some more coffee.

You rush through the rest of the day. You finish earlier than you should because Benny's in a gracious mood, thrusting your tip jar into your arms with a command to get some sleep. You promise you'll try your best and head out for the daycare.

Junie's asleep in a bean bag by the baby gate when you get there. You stop dead in your tracks. She has her shoes and coat on already, her backpack in her lap. You look up at the childcare worker in charge today, a nice lady called Deborah, quizzically.

"She's been like that for an hour. I'm sorry we couldn't keep her awake."

You pout at Junie. "Why she got her coat on?"

"She insisted. Screamed bloody murder. Think she was excited to see you," she says, smiling softly.

You smile in return. "Thank you, Deborah. Have a nice weekend.”

Deborah nods and disappears back into the play room. You open the baby gate with likely less dexterity than you should have as a mom and drop to your knees in front of the beanbag, careful not to make too much noise. You're wondering if you can carry her to the car without waking her up when her foot moves, then her arms. They fall to her side as her eyes open.

"Hey, baby," you say, feeling weirdly emotional. She looks so lovely and pretty, and if she's sick that's gonna pluck your heart strings (and cause a boat load of problems).

"Mommy," she mumbles, eyes bleary.

"That's me." You reach out to squeeze her little thigh. "My poor girl, what's the matter? Does your tummy hurt?" you ask carefully.

She blinks.

"Why're you sitting here all by yourself? You didn't want to play with Adrien? Or Lucy?"

When she doesn't reply you take her backpack and thread your hand through the strap, offering your open arms to her. She can barely sit up, her movements slow and sluggish.

"Here," you murmur, sliding your hands under her armpits and pulling her into your chest.

She finally smiles, hands bunched up at the collar of your shirt. You leave some room to look at her and she looks at you. You're surprised she's not whining or crying.

"Hey," you say again, amazed at her droopy smile. "You look like you've had a good day."

Her head drops forward. You think she's nodding, though that might be wishful thinking. You don't even know if toddlers can nod.

Of course they can nod, you think to yourself scathingly. I mean… can they?

And Junie isn't like most toddlers. She hasn't really done anything by the book. She meets milestones when she wants to, sometimes early, sometimes really, really late.

You pat her back, her nylon coat crinkly under your hand. "Ready to go home?"

You stand up with her clutched to your chest. Usually you'd have her say goodbye to Deborah or the other daycare workers but Junie doesn't look like she knows her own name right now. You frown at her and encourage her forehead against your chin, trying to gauge if she's a little warmer than usual.

"I missed you," you tell her honestly. You miss her every single day. "I want to know everything you did today. Do you remember what you did?"

Junie pushes against your chest with her hand as you walk out of the daycare centre and into the parking lot.

"Did you do… colouring? Or… building blocks? Did you sing?" you ask, grinning.

You cross the road, and when you look back she's staring at you, straight into your eyes.

"Hi," you say with a laugh.

Her hands rise to your face, fingers thankfully clean and warm against your wind-bitten cheeks. You slow, gazing down at her expectantly. She raises her chin as high as she can and smiles big.

"You want a kiss. I can tell," you croon smugly.

She kisses you. It's a little drooly as baby kisses always are, but it's the best thing that's happened to you all day. It's always so surprising when she initiates affection. That she loves you just as much as you love her.

You steal another kiss.

"Guess what?" you ask, reaching a hand to stroke a little baby hair back.

She says a word that isn't real. It sounds like 'mod'.

"It's payday today, which means…" You beam at her. "Ice cream!"

That grabs her attention.

Eddie can't believe it. "You had what without me?" he asks over the phone.

Junie herds your knees, arms around your legs and face turned to the TV. You stand slumped against the wall where your phone is plugged, curling the landline's coiled cord around your finger so Junie can't grab it.

"Ice cream," you supply helpfully.

His voice isn't easy to understand. The Hideout is a very loud place. Eddie's practically shouting down the line. "I can't believe it."

"It couldn't be helped. She needed to be tempted."

"Tempted! Has she eaten anything else?"

You look down at the girl in question and reach down to rub her back. "Oh yeah. She ate like, an entire bag of lays, one of the big ones. She still smells like honey barbecue."

"Nothing else?"

You sigh, that creeping, ringing thought edging in. You're a bad mom.

"I made her cereal, and celery sticks and sandwiches and little cut up peaches and- and she won't touch any of it," you say, like you're promising. Your tone begs to be believed.

There's a loud racket. Eddie shouts, "What did you say? I can't hear you!"

You repeat yourself. You miss the start of what he's saying, but you catch, "-not your fault! She's probably just having a moment. You remember when she kept throwing her bottle? She doesn't do that anymore."

You nod. "Yeah, maybe it's like that. She's figuring she has choices." Not the best timing for your kid to decide she's gonna get picky.

"Exactly! Or maybe she is sick. Does she look sick?"

You look back down at Junie and feel across her smooth forehead for the twentieth time today. "She doesn't feel warm."

"Good. I'm sure she-" You miss the rest.

"I can't hear you," you say with a small laugh. "I can hear the drum kit though. Are you going on soon?"

"I said, 'I'm sure she's fine.' And yeah, couple of minutes."

"Okay. Um. I'll let you go, then."

"Okay." A small gap where you think he's hung up, but then, "Can I talk to her?"

You bite back a smile. "Sure."

You kneel down. Junie looks a short fall from suspicion, though her arms quickly reach out for a hug.

"June, d'you wanna talk to Eddie?"

"Eddie?" she asks, turning to the door.

You catch her hand before she can walk away. "No, babe, on the phone."

You sit down flat with your legs crossed and encourage her to do the same. She doesn't not want to be encouraged, eyes still trained on the door.

"Baby," you say, though you're bringing the phone to your mouth as you do. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Okay, I'm gonna pass her the phone and you're gonna have to talk straight away, because she doesn't know how it works. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright. Bring on the junebug."

You press the phone to Junie's ear. She looks startled and then annoyed, shoulder hiking and head moving in like she might push it away. You can see the moment she realises Eddie is on the other side, her lips part and her eyes widen in wonder.

She listens for a while, flabbergasted. You think you might be able to hear his voice. Not what he's saying, but his bubbly baby tone.

"Eddie," she says suddenly. She looks at you, says a bunch of nonsense words and babbling punctuated by Eddie Eddie Eddie.

"Are you listening to him?" you ask, excited at her recognition.

She grabs the phone out of your hand and stares at it. You try to wrangle it back and put it back to her ear. She is not happy.

Hardly news that your toddler's mood may swing, you shove the phone between your head and your shoulder and wrap her up in your arms with a placating shush. She starts to cry regardless. You think they might be crocodile tears.

"Eddie?"

"Sweetheart, I gotta go, okay? I'm sorry if I upset June–"

"You didn't, you didn't, she–"

"– I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"– misses you, I think–"

"See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck!" you say. The line's already dead. The dial tone makes your ear prickle.

You feel upset for a second. It's a mess of feelings. You're too tired to deal with any of them.

"Eddie?" Junie asks, hands pulling at the hem of her nightie.

"Just mommy," you say with a smile. The longer she looks at you the easier it gets. "You wanna go to bed and cuddle?"

She laughs and runs away from you.

"I'll take that as a no."

Eddie knocks the door and doesn't get an answer.

He pauses, a bouquet behind his back and his acoustic guitar heavy around his neck, a grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. It's a very heavy grocery bag. He'd figured he has a lot of apologising to do this afternoon.

It seems like there's no one home to apologise to.

"Girls? It's me."

Still no answer.

"Eddie," he adds, like a loser.

He thinks he can hear small footsteps.

"Eddie!"

He laughs to himself. "Junebug? Where's mommy?"

"Hello?" you call finally.

"Hey, can you let me in?"

He keeps the flowers hidden firmly behind his back as you open the door. He hears the deadbolt, the chain slide free and then the regular old lock unlocking, and you pull the door open and suddenly he can't breathe. You look that pretty.

"Eddie!" Junie shouts, to his pleasure.

You grin brilliantly as he steps over the threshold.

Junie's arms are quickly around his legs. She's in a sweet blue dress and frilly socks looking almost as pretty as her mom does, hair neat and tidy, face pristine.

You're nearly matching her. You've a soft white shirt on, tucked into a simple blue skirt and a cardigan to match.

You barely stop to look at him, flitting back to the kitchen where you’ve brown paper bags upended, the fridge and freezer doors both wide open. "Sorry, I'm just putting the groceries away. How did the gig go? Did you rock the house?" You giggle to yourself.

Eddie wants to scream, you’re that endearing. “It went great. Awesome. Not sure I rocked the house, but it was metal.”

"Amazing! I- I'm sorry I didn't hear you, I was in my own head," you say as you go, stepping over toys and frozen peas and Junie's Muppet Babies backpack like a natural. He notices your small white socks and feels himself slipping that little bit further into a terrifying feeling.

He doesn't have time to tell you it's okay, or that he wishes you’d been at the gig, or to watch your step. Junies's babbling for his attention and he'd rather die than not give it to her, moving the grocery bag he has hanging from his hand over her head and tossing it toward the couch, where it lands and spills.

"Okay, June, I'm gonna pick you up," he says quickly, pulling the guitar over his head. He props it up by the open doorway, Junie tugging at his jeans the whole while.

"So demanding!" he teases, scooping her up to prop on his hip and unveiling the flowers at the same time.

You aren't looking. He nudges them towards her face and shakes them gently.

Junie can't decide what's more fun, the flowers or Eddie. She wraps her arms around his neck as best as she can but stares at the flowers with a dawning comprehension.

"What are these, baby?" he asks, holding them lower so she can see them all in view. They're mostly red. There's some whites too, big round roses among other flowers he can't name.

"Red," she says quickly. "White. Yellow, blue, green."

She's not right, there aren't any yellows or blues, but he can only blame himself for drilling them into her the way he had. She's showing off that she knows them all, and she deserves some praise.

"Good job! Red, white," he shakes the bouquet enough to reveal a few small pink ones, "pink flowers. They're pretty, don't you think? Pretty as you and mommy?" He hums to himself, patting her back thoughtfully. “Maybe not that pretty."

You're not listening. If you were he's not sure he could say it, not while you're looking like you do. You're always pretty, always, but right now he feels like he did the first time he saw you. Just gone.

Junie tells him something, a more factual tone and air about her. He rubs the top of her upper arm encouragingly, asking, "Is that right?"

"Do you want food?" you call.

He sets June down on her feet and she hates it until he wraps her hands around the bouquet's neck. "Can you give these to your mom for me? Please?" Junie stares at them. "For mommy," he adds, pointing at you where you're closing the cabinet door.

Junie, the tiny smarty-pants that she is, runs to you. Eddie's a coward for it, but he doesn't think he can give them to you himself under honest pretenses, doesn't think he could admit that he'd been thinking about getting you flowers for a while now. Much easier to have her give them to you.

You make a sound like you've swallowed a gasp and stare at them.

"They're nice, right? I saw them and I thought they'd make a good apology for last night."

You don't take them. You can't contain a smile, but you don't take them.

"I'm sorry if I made any trouble for you," he says tentatively.

You drop your hand on top of Junie's head. Your tone is warm, each word reassuring. "No, you didn't. She just… you know, she has a routine, and she loves when you come around. She missed you. That's not your fault."

"Okay, good. I missed her too. Nobody can jam out like she can.”

Junie whacks you in the thigh. Eddie's starting to think he did something wrong because you still haven't taken them from her, your eyes as unreadable as the way your hands move, rigid and curling.

You shake them out and finally take the flowers.

"Thanks, baby," you say. Then, looking at him. "Thank you."

"You can get me back," he says.

Shell shock turns to eagerness. "Yeah, anything."

He picks up the spilled groceries and brandishes them at you. In one hand is this week's dessert, a huge carton of rocky road ice cream, the fancy kind with big chocolate chips and fluffy marshmallows on top. In the other, a plastic jug of your favourite drink.

"Find room for these in the fridge?"

Since accepting them, you've yet to put down the flowers, holding them protectively to your chest as you take what he’s offering and carry them into the kitchen.

June runs full pelt at his legs and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up.

"You're so happy today!" he cheers, saccharine sweet as she burrows her little face into his collar. "Have you been having a good day with mom? I love your matching outfits."

You try to hide how the compliment affects you, face buried in the freezer. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that your freezer has ample room, you don’t need to look for space. and he can see the way your hand tightens around the bouquet. He loves how shy you've become lately over his compliments, no matter how small. It's worth the possibility of making a fool of himself to see you flustered.

Junie reports back on the day. Eddie listens intently for words he might understand but finds none.

He doesn't let this bother him, leaning against the counter behind so he can hold Junie low on his stomach to watch her expressions flicker, hands encapsulating her back. She looks happy, obviously, but she also looks very intent on something.

"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head toward her knowingly. "Was the grocery store exciting? Did you do anything else?"

"Duckies!" she says.

"Duckies? You saw ducks?" he asks curiously, looking to you for confirmation.

You're still holding your flowers to your chest.

Junie chatters. "Duck, duck, duck."

"What's she talking about?" he asks, pulling her up enough for her head to rub against his chin.

"Oh, we went to the duck pond. She was obsessed," you say.

"Right, right. Can't say I blame her.”

"Trying to explain why they weren't yellow took some dedication."

Eddie smiles at you softly. "You can put them down, you know."

Your eyes flicker between him and the flowers. "I- nobody's ever got me flowers before. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do with them. I don't… have a vase."

He hadn't realised he'd be the first guy to get you flowers. It makes him wanna wrap you up and hug you, because how is it fair that a girl like you never got flowers? Not once?

"Shit," he says instead.

He flinches hard and looks at Junie. She's too busy with her hands in his hair to notice what he's said. He apologises anyways.

You roll your eyes. Eddie's relieved to see it's with obvious fondness, a funny lopsided smile to your lips.

"If she starts dropping s-bombs, you're the one who has to deal with it," you warn.

"I will.”

He takes a step toward you and you take a step toward him.

You hum and hold the flowers up to Junie as he had before. "Aren't these just something else? Look how pretty they are! Why don't you pick one, baby?"

Eddie shifts her onto the right side and you both watch her touch them, hands adorably careful as she feels the leaves between her fingers and pokes the fuzzy yellow centre of a flower with white, round petals.

"That one?" you murmur, pulling it out from the rest with the same adorable carefulness.

Junie accepts the flower and immediately shows it to Eddie, ecstatic.

“Yellow," she proclaims.

"And white," he says, ruffling the petals with his index finger.

She smells like talc and you, that soft jasmine perfume, and her hair is fragrant where it tickles his face. He indulges and hugs her that little bit tighter. She indulges him in turn and hugs him back, the flower petals cold and silky against his neck.

"How do you…" You scratch the base of your neck. "Do you think I could squeeze all the stalks into one glass?"

It's only a bunch from the grocery store but he thinks a glass might be a little too small. "Maybe you can split it? Have one in your room, one in here."

You set about following his suggestion, snipping away the cellophane with a pair of scissors and acquiring two tall glasses. The stalks are tall. You trim them down and begin arranging them. Eddie has no clue why you're being as particular as you are but he's happy for you to do as you please, traipsing into the living room where Junie seems to have been running rampant before his arrival with intentions of cleaning up.

He closes the front door and bends at the waist to let Junie back on her feet.

She goes down easy enough. Eddie turns on the TV to keep her occupied while he whips around the room. He wants to clean (as best as he can) before you see him and tell him to stop. He puts your small handbag and Junie's backpack at the sideboard by the door. He sweeps up all of her toys and tucks them under the television as you would, then moves onto the rogue dirtied pajamas on the floor. They're Junie's favourites, the ones with tiny strawberries that she always chooses when given the option.

Your laundry basket isn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. He attempts to sneak past you where you're still arranging flowers intently. The sight of you stops him in his tracks.

I need to get her a vase, he thinks. And another bouquet.

You turn to him, a pleased expression turning your features from pretty to chest-achingly lovely.

He holds up the pajamas and then keeps on down the hall to the bathroom, even as you chasten, "Eddie," with a fond exasperation.

You showcase your first bouquet upon his return, sheepish, awaiting judgement. You're conflicted tonight, a handful of emotions shaken and stirred.

"Tada," you sing.

"Looks sick, sweetheart. If this whole waitressing thing doesn't work out for you, you could definitely be a florist."

You huff a laugh. "Oh, for sure."

"I'm serious. It looks really nice."

He thinks maybe he can see the way you might've been before, in that moment. There's something so young – and you are young, as he is, as he keeps forgetting – about your face and how you take praise. You look like you want desperately to brush it away, and you look like you want him to give you more.

He stands close enough that you're forced to turn back to the counter where the second bouquet is taking form. "This one looks nice too."

"I thought I'd put the prettiest one out here." You lean back and your shoulder presses to his chest. "And then the reject in my room," you say, chin lifted to look him dead in the eye.

He feels heat crawling up his neck and decides to fight fire with fire, even if the fire is entirely imagined. "Do you often have rejects in your bedroom?" he questions with a smarmy smile.

You laugh. Far from the polite and prim giggling you'd used when you first met, though that was cute, too, this laugh is something else. He wishes he had a tape deck with him to record it, play it back.

"Only if they're very pretty," you say. You place the last of the flowers into the second bouquet. "And these ones are beautiful. Thank you, Eddie. You didn't have to get me flowers."

"I wanted to."

Your head falls gently against the top of his shoulder. He stands very still.

The faucet drips. The TV plays. If he listens, Eddie can hear the sound of kids outside on their bikes, shouting and jeering.

Like this, he can see the curve of your neck, the hill of your chin. He can see the pillows of your lips and the slopes of your cheek. The darling shape of your nose. He knows a kiss would fit there well, fit there perfectly, if he would only raise his hand to your shoulder. Turn you ever so slightly.

Even the flat of your forehead begs for affection. He can almost feel it from looking at you – the warmth of your skin under his lips. He can't decide whether he'd kiss you from temple to temple, or smack dab on your crown. Between your brows, at the tail of them. The corner of your eye might work.

Anything would work.

Eddie lifts his hand. Careful not to startle you, he cups the side of your waist like he had before a hundred moons ago when you'd cut his hair in this same kitchen. He spreads his fingers wide and inches over your soft abdomen, feeling for the shape of you.

You turn your cheek into his shoulder. He lets his lips touch the back of your head.

Plinking echoes from the living room sudden enough to startle you in tandem. Kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you and Eddie both turn to the living room and come away from one another. You're more confused than Eddie at the sound; a split-second and you're out of reach.

He closes his hand and follows you. Now past the obscurification of the cabinets, he can see that Junie's finally noticed his guitar and has pulled it down flat on the floor.

She plays with the strings enthusiastically. Eddie can't bring himself to care at her roughness when she looks the way she does, curious and entertained, giggling her contagious baby laugh.

"I forgot you brought that," you say, looking to him, he suspects, for a cue. A silent, Is she allowed?

Of course she is. “I told you I'd give you a private show."

"What happened to the amp?"

"My hands were full." Eddie sits on the floor to Junie's left. "Whatcha doing, trouble?"

She hits the neck.

He takes her hand in a gentle grip and encourages the side of her finger across the strings.

She laughs thick and sweet as honey. "Brmm," she imitates, lips pinching between giggles as he helps her do it again.

"You're a total rockstar," he says.

You kneel opposite. "She's gonna lose her mind when you play something."

Eddie feels very smug at what's to come.

You let Junie play for a time, and then you open your arms and she walks around to your side, sitting on your thighs. She continues to reach for the guitar, seems sulky when Eddie picks it up, and quietens when he plays an experimental note.

"Are you gonna sing? I've heard you sing before, you know? You're not bad."

You wrinkle your nose.

First, he plays the Muppet Babies theme tune for June. She gets excited and starts to hum. You have to hold her in your lap to stop her from messing him up. He wouldn't mind if she did. He's hoping, maybe one day when she's old enough to understand, he could get her behind her own guitar. He's not kidding about starting a band.

He drops his eyes to his fingers, shaking his head on instinct to try and shake away the thought.

June sings and sings and eventually, quietly, you start to sing too. You’re purposefully not trying but any flatness is easily made up for by the familiarity of your voice alone. The way you talk, so charming and careful, the sweetness of your newfound shyness and the rough hint of ever-present tiredness you carry, it all seeps into your singing. Eddie adores it.

Junie almost gets some of the words right. It's very exciting for you, Eddie can see it in the tilt of your head. You enunciate precisely and he slows the tempo to give you time.

"It really sounds like she's almost there. She definitely said 'dreams come true,’” he says as the song ends.

"You think?"

"Definitely. Do you want to sing it again?" he asks, words falling into a high-pitched sugar, eyes on Junie.

"More?" you add, a slight correction. Junie doesn't know what 'again' means yet, but she understands 'more'.

"More," she says seriously.

You go through it one more time. If he plays slow to drag out your reluctant singing, that's his business.

He unveils his next song with a dash of edgy stage presence. "For my next song, I'll be playing what can only be described as the absolute pinnacle of music."

He sounds legitimate.

Your eyebrows pinch together at his sombre attitude. "Sure."

"I'm gonna play it as true to form as I can, but… I don't have a banjo. So…"

He plays the first few seconds of Kermit The Frog's The Rainbow Connection.

When he sings, he does it after an internal pep talk consisting of a scathing, Be brave, idiot.

"Why are there so many, songs about rainbows. And what's on the other side?" he sings, trying and failing to sound like Kermit. He abandoned that pursuit immediately in favour of his regular voice. Thankfully it's a slow song. Simple. It doesn't take much to play, either. The real challenge are the lyrics, which he doesn't really know. "Rainbows are visions, but only… illusions?"

You bob your head appraisingly, hands crossed over Junies front, cheek pressed to the top of her head.

"And rainbows have nothing to hide."

You’re making it impossible to concentrate, looking as earnest, homespun, and ridiculously pretty as you do. Pretty in more than just your looks. The way that you watch him, the way you rub a pattern over Junie's ribs, it’s all so indicative of your heart.

He fucks up the rest. Bad timing, amateurish fingering over the struts, lyrics that escape him. You'd never know he could play Master of Puppets a month after it's debut from the way he performs now.

You cheer, gathering Junie's hands into yours to help her clap.

He blushes like a fool.

—

Dinner tonight – take out.

You're prouder than you should be when Eddie asks, "Can I help you cook tonight?" and you get to say, "No, you can't. I'm not cooking."

You'd never shake your head at a frozen pizza but there's an irreplaceable satisfaction that comes from getting hot food delivered. Maybe it's the convenience, maybe it's that you don't have to cook it yourself. It might even be the grease. Whatever it is, it tastes better than any freezer food ever could.

You've trapped Junie in her high chair. Diaper changed, pajamas on, bib in place. You rolled her sleeves all the way up and gave her two slices of cheese pizza cut into small pieces that have been blown on for a more than generous amount of time and tell her to go ham. She doesn't bother with her plastic fork and you don't blame her, eating your own pizza in a similar fashion.

Rather than sit opposite you or next to Junie, Eddie has opted for the chair on your left. Junie on your right, your daughter eats with an animated little grin that apples her cheeks, giving her that chubby baby-like smile.

"You see her smile?" you ask, taking a big bite of perfect crust. You have to stop yourself from sighing happily, fingers covered in crumbs.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pizza sauce or his face like a little kid.

You sit back in your chair so he can really see her. "She's always been a smiley baby, and when she was much smaller all her smiles were so chubby cheeked. She was chubby cheeked. Now when she smiles like that she makes me remember her when she was a baby."

"I'm not surprised she was a smiley baby if she had you… D'you miss having a baby?"

"Watch yourself," you say, and then giggle as all the blood drains from his face. "Kidding. I don't know if I miss having a baby baby. I mean, she's so little, she's practically still a baby. But I do kinda wish I could go back and hold her as a newborn."

Eddie wipes his cheek and stands up to get some paper towels. He wipes his face and hands and grabs the juice from the fridge to fill his glass (that's basically still full) and then yours (the real reason he'd stood, you reckon).

"Was she heavy?" he asks.

You worry for a moment he's humouring you. It's clear how much you love Junie, you know it is, and that shows in how much you want to talk about her. You'd never expected that part, though of course it makes sense – sometimes she smiles and you wanna call the newspapers – and you don't think Eddie's insincere. He seems like he genuinely wants to know and that's enough for you to want to round the table and throw your arms over his shoulders.

"I think…" You pick up your glass and hesitate with the rim to your lip. "I think if you'd held her back then, you wouldn't think she was heavy."

He practically smolders, bringing an arm up to tense his bicep. "Thank you."

You laugh at him. "Shut up! I just think, you've been good with her ever since you met her. When I held her for the first time it's a good thing I was laying down. I probably would've dropped her."

Eddie takes Junie's sippy cup to fill. You'd say it was a waste if he hadn't bought it himself, she's too busy eating her weight in cheese to care about something as rudimentary as juice.

"You would not have dropped her."

"I would've."

"You wouldn't have! And if you did, it would've been an accident. Next point, they don't have skulls, right? No harm, no foul."

"Who told you babies don't have skulls?"

"...I'm not at liberty to say."

You eat the rest of your crust and shake your head at his misguided education. "They have skulls, Eddie. The scalp is super soft and fragile for ages, but they definitely have skulls. You know what they don't have?"

Eddie squeezes Junie's shoulder as he walks behind her. "What?" he asks in alarm, passing you to sit down again. His knees touch the side of your thigh.

"Kneecaps."

His hand stops on the way to the pizza box, body frozen.

"What?" he asks, his alarm doubled.

"Swear down. No knee caps."

"Don't they need them? For crawling? I feel like knee caps are more important than skulls."

"If you didn't have a skull you wouldn't be able to breathe," you say, though you're guessing.

"What use is breathing if you can't move?"

You turn to him to take him in properly. You beam, because this is an outlandish conversation and you're enjoying every second of it and he looks just as happy as you feel.

"Do babies need to move? June could never move again and I'd still look after her,” you counter.

"Sweetheart, you're cheating."

"I can't exactly breathe for her-"

"What are you talking about? Of course you could. I don't know how but you'd find a way, Y/N, I know what you're like."

Your teeth click together, a funny retort squashed down by his unexpected admittance of faith. He always does this; Eddie loves to tell you the kindest things anyone has ever told you like they don't cost him a thing.

"I would," you agree, blinded by love rather than supported by any logic.

"Mommy," Junie says, like she knows she's the topic of your hypothetical devotion and she wants in. "More pizza"

"Please?" you tack on, though her small sentence had impressed you to the point of elation. You turn to her already with your hand in the pizza box.

"Pizza," she says. You love the way she says it, like the 'zuh' sound at the end is a complete surprise.

The pizza's cold enough by now to give it to her intact. She's amazed at the big slice you put on her plate, picking it up with a coordination you know is taking a lot of effort for her.

"Good job, baby," you praise, using her distraction to pull a little string of cheese off of her messy cheek.

She takes a huge bite. You watch her worried she's gonna choke, and feel Eddie's knees press deeper into your thigh as he moves forward to join in.

"Is it weird that she's impressing me right now?" he asks.

You giggle and roll your shoulders back until you can feel the brush of his hair against your shirt. "No, she's awesome."

For dessert, you insist on plating up. Or bowling up. You scoop a more generous than she should really have portion for Junie, something similar for Eddie, and a normal portion for yourself.

"On the couch?" Eddie asks.

You can see him cleaning up Junie out of the corner of your eye. You wish he wouldn't but you're grateful that he does. His attentiveness makes your hands feel heavy in that you remember you have them, and you remember what it's like to want to hold someone else's.

"Yeah," you say, though eating on the couch makes you nervous. You don't want to ruin it. You're lucky you even have one.

Eddie scoops Junie up easy and pats her back.

“You put away a lot of cheese, kid. A lot. Was that yummy or what?"

She burps. His laughter is roaring and boyish as he applauds her.

"You're patting her back, she's gonna keep burping.”

"That's what you're supposed to do for babies, isn't it?"

He stands under the harsh kitchen light with his face turned away and down toward Junie, hair a mess of flyaways, t-shirt covered in shiny toddler fingerprints over one shoulder and jeans slipping down low on his hips. Your explanation comes breathlessly. "When you give a baby a bottle they suck in too much air and it gives them trapped wind. You burp that kind of baby. Not greedy almost three year olds."

"She is not almost three."

"I think I'd know, Munson."

"She's like, two and a half at most."

"I'm rounding up for emphasis," you say, and glare at his eyebrows rising.

He pats her back some more anyways. She burps again and he laughs even more. "Juniper The Burpiest," he says to himself as he walks away, voice fading as he settles down across the way on the couch.

Junie has crashed and burned, warm thick cheese and dough putting her quickly into a close to listless state in his lap. He faces her out toward the TV and she leans heavily against his chest with his hands around her torso, propping her up. You shepherd in the desserts.

"Gimme Junie's," Eddie says.

"She's gonna fall asleep," you say, but pass it over anyhow.

Eddie places the bowl of rocky road in her lap with a hand between to stop from making her legs cold and starts to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She accepts. It's adorable to watch. His face over her shoulder, Junie's face slowly deflating, eyes bleary and blinking as her lips close lazily around the spoon. She barely flinches at the cold.

You eat your own ice cream in the seat next to them and wonder if this is forever.

Eddie wipes her chin with the side of his hand and watches her head fall. He wears a loving smile. It makes you want to cry, to know someone else loves her.

You let all your weight fall against his shoulder and eat your ice cream casually. This is the least casual thing you've ever done. Spoon in your mouth, you press your cheek to the top of his arm and glue your gaze to the TV.

You swear you can feel his eyes on you, but when you chance a look he's watching the TV, head inclined to yours ever so slightly, a hand brushing Junie's hair from her dozing face. You're weak. You give yourself over to what you want and turn your nose to his arm. He smells lIke he always does, warm in the truest definition of the word.

You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel Eddie take the bowl from your hands and set it next to Junie's. You want to open your eyes and say sorry but they’re heavier than you'd thought, and you can only manage a murmur of sound.

His hand sliders under your elbow and curls around your arm. His head drops on top of yours so softly you almost don't feel it.

You doze, digging your face further into his arm, feel the curve of it under your cheek and the cut off of his sleeve rising.

A frayed thread tickles your cheek and you complain without thinking, sighing your annoyance.

"What?" Eddie asks.

You raise a hand to rub at your face and eyes. "Tickled me."

"Did I? M'sorry."

"T-shirt. Did you cut them yourself?"

"You know it. Was going through a phase."

"Going through."

"Say it to my face," he says. Soft, teasing.

You lift your head and find him smiling at you.

He has a beauty mark under his eye, occluded near completely by his eyelashes. You can't believe you've never noticed it before.

"You have a freckle," you whisper.

"Where?" He nods. "Under my eye?"

"Yeah."

You sit up and stare at him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I've never seen it before," you continue, still whispering. "It blends in with your eyelashes."

"I think you're the first person to see it who isn't my mom. No one ever looks at me this long,” he says quietly.

If his eyes weren't closed you'd never have had the courage to do what you do next. You raise your hand with his cheek, thumb pressed to the skin beside his nose and fingers slipped under his ear. You turn his face toward the light. Eddie lets you without complaint, his breath warm where it fans over your thumb. You push your fingers further until they've threaded into his soft hair, your thumb brushing up under his eye. You part his mess of dainty lashes with your thumbnail until the beauty mark is clear in view.

"That's so sweet," you whisper, awed.

Eddie readjusts Junie in his lap with an overabundance of caution and doesn't speak. He's lax under your touch.

"It's really pretty. You had it since you were a baby?"

"I think so."

You laugh under your breath.

"What?" he asks.

"It suits you." Something pretty hiding in plain view.

"I heard," he says hedgingly, "that freckles are a sign of how you died in a past life."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Bet it was something really gross, like a parasitic worm-"

"Ew."

"Or someone stabbed me. Or shot me. With an arrow."

"You're only twenty. Your past life would have still been in this century."

Eddie opens his eyes just to glare at you. "Don't deprive me of a badass past life. How would you have had me die?"

You push his hair from his face. "You know what I heard about them?"

"What?"

Fun to whisper with him like this. Like you’re younger than you are, trading secrets in the dim light.

"I heard they're kisses from a past life."

You raise your second hand to his cheek and cradle his face.

Eddie leans into it. “You wanna give me one for the next?” he asks, a short fall from salacious.

Your breath doesn’t catch. Your hands don’t shake. “Is that what you want?”

He falters. Bravado slips. Your heart skips a beat, worried maybe he doesn’t like you the way you’re thinking after all.

“Y/N,” he says.

You can’t hear his rejection. You won’t.

You close your eyes and kiss his cheek. Your nose slides over his skin, the heat of his blood under the surface warming your palms, and you steal a second there, two, breathing in his smell. If this is all you get, you can be okay with it. Eventually.

You pull away.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

please forgive any mistakes and how long it took, i have been a bit unwell! hopefully it won’t be too long before part four :3

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

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lovebugism · 9 months

Note

What about Eddie with shy!reader who still gets shy & flustered when he compliments/praises her even after being together for months now 🥺

hi love! this is such a sweet lil scenario! thanks sm for your request!! — the one where eddie is super good at making you feel pretty (but only because you make it so easy)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

“Does this look okay?” you ask for the hundredth time. Maybe millionth.

Eddie doesn’t shrug you off, though. He never does — not even when you’ve repeated the same question to him a thousand times.

The boy eyes your outfit like he’s really analyzing it, just like you wanted him to. In its fourth iteration, it looks only slightly different than the one before it, but he’ll take any opportunity to look at you that comes his way.

Most of the time, you can’t stand it when he stares at you for too long. Now he can do it all he wants because you’re asking him to. He feels a little like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“The skirt’s really pretty,” Eddie affirms with a nod. He’d argue that you’ve looked pretty in everything you’ve shown him, but he knows that’s not the answer you’re looking for. “I think I like it better than the jeans, actually.”

Even though you could wear almost anything and drive him insane, nothing beats seeing you in skirts. Something about your legs has always worked him wild — maybe because you keep them covered so often.

It isn’t every day he gets to see you in these shorter bottoms. Those are only reserved for real special occasions. And, for some strange reason, you’ve decided that’s what Steve’s party is.

You look over your shoulder at the boy sprawled out on the edge of your bed. His wild hair and all black get-up looks much more jarring than usual against your baby pink comforter.

He’s dreadfully out of place in your girlish bedroom. You never want him to leave.

“You think so?” you wonder aloud, toying nervously with the hem of your white skater skirt. It’s not super short, stopping just below mid-thigh, but you’re nervous that it might be anyway.

Eddie scoffs like the answer’s obvious. “Totally. You look killer, babe. I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep everyone from staring at you.”

Your nose scrunches at the crude compliment. Sometimes you wonder if Eddie thinks you’re prettier than you really are — like one of those funky carnival mirrors, but with the opposite effect.

He’s under some sort of spell, you figure. He must be.

You don’t deserve to be loved on as much as he loves on you.

“I’m being serious, Eds,” you argue halfheartedly as you turn back to the mirror. You tug at the bottom of your snug crop top when a sliver of your stomach starts to show.

The bed squeaks under his weight when he rises from his lounged position. He laughs and it sounds like sunshine. “I am being serious. You look amazing.”

“You always think I look amazing,” you murmur, flashing him a weak glare from beneath your lashes through the mirror. You’re not as annoyed as you seem. Embarrassed and a little undeserving, sure — but not annoyed.

“How’s that my fault?” Eddie scoffs with a chuckle. His chunky sneakers thud, thud, thud against your carpeted floor as he walks over to you. “If you didn’t look so pretty all the time, I wouldn’t have to compliment you, so… Checkmate.”

“Stop it…” you protest, mousy and only half-joking.

Eddie’s almost certain that none of his words ever get through to you. Every time he tells you something nice, you think he’s joking. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never been serious about anything in his life — other than you, of course — or if you don’t think you’re worthy of praise.

Maybe it’s a healthy mixture of both.

It breaks his heart all the same.

Your back meets his chest when he stands behind you. His deep, musky cologne engulfs you like a fuzzy blanket. His ringed fingers are warm as they splay along your hips.

Even when he’s barely touching you, he makes you feel so held.

“I mean it,” Eddie assures. His voice is soft, quiet, and serious — a stern sort of coo. His button-eyed gaze pierces your own as he stares at you in the mirror. He squeezes softly at your sides. “You look really pretty, babe. I think you should go with this one.”

Grateful that the attention is less on you and more on your outfit, you get less sheepish. “You don’t think it’s too much for a party?”

“No,” he answers with a curt shake of his wild head. “’S perfect. Honestly.”

You huff and lean back against him — not relaxed, exactly, just wanting to feel more of him. Eddie’s chin rests on your shoulder as your arms cross over your stomach. You look almost like you’re hugging yourself.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” you wonder, so quietly it sounds like a bunch of mumbles.

Eddie’s practically developed super-hearing after being with you for so long.

He scoffs in response. “They’re gonna love you,” he promises, brows raised beneath his frizzy bangs. A pink smile tugs at his mouth. “Like, seriously. They’re gonna be obsessed with you. Henderson, especially. Him and Robin are gonna talk your ear off the whole night.”

You’re smiling before you realize it.

You love that he can imagine you so perfectly meshing with all the people he cares about. Your heart swells at the thought. You love fitting into his world.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods with a scrunched nose. “And then I’m gonna have to share you with them and… You know what? Maybe this is a terrible idea.”

You exhale sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. You purse your lips to the side when you feel like you’re smiling too big. It takes over your whole mouth anyway.

Eddie watches your gaze duck towards the floor where his dirty sneakers stand alongside your shiny Mary Janes. He smiles at you like he’s just heard his favorite song on the radio — like he’s watching happiness incarnate and holding her in his hands.

“There it is,” he singsongs quietly. “I’ve been waiting to see you smile all night.”

Your face heats like a stove eye. You think you might actually burn him if he touched your cheeks just now.

“Stop,” you whine as if he’s hurt you in some way. You writhe in his arms to escape his grip, but he only holds you tighter.

“Sorry, babe,” Eddie apologizes, mostly insincere. He tucks his face into your shoulder and mumbles his words there. “You can’t escape me.”

He sprinkles tiny kisses on your neck. You raise your shoulders, not because you want him to stop, but because the softness of his touch tickles you there. You’d rather feel his lips against your own, anyway.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease as your head turns to peer up at him. The words leave your mouth so softly you might as well be telling him ‘I love you.’ In some ways, you are.

“I mean it, though,” he confesses. He seals his promise with a barely-there peck to the tip of your nose. His lips just barely brush your skin before he’s pulling away again. “You look pretty. Beautiful, even.”

You trap your smile between your teeth as you twist in his hold. Your arms stay pressed between your bodies while his arms embrace you wholly. “Beautiful, huh?” you echo with a sarcastic lilt.

“Uh-huh. Beautiful with a capital B.”

Despite how desperately you want to look away from his intent gaze — so full of love that they’re twinkling with it — you force yourself to keep his stare. “Well, I think you’re Beautiful with a capital B, too, Eds…”

Eddie beams at you, taking your compliment in stride. You wish you could do that, too.

“Thank you, baby,” he hums before smacking a kiss to your waiting mouth. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint and strawberry chapstick.

It’s over far quicker than you’d like it to be. He doesn’t seem as grieved by it as you do.

“Alright, babe. Let’s go,” he announces with a boyish grin when he parts from you. You smile as he heads out of your bedroom, picking up the purse on your desk as he goes. He knew you’d forget it otherwise.

His voice comes muffled from the hallway, “Your chariot awaits!”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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kingtomura · 27 days

Text

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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gracieheartspedro · 8 months

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How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

description: your boyfriend tommy miller is a cheating bastard. luckily, your brother-in-law joel is nice enough to help you get your mind off of it.

word count: 5.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, this is porn, joel is a consent king though!, talk of horrible sex life, cheating, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, pet names

author's note: hey lovers (; I have been teasing this one awhile. i may continue this if you guys like it a lot. this was a request from an anon, i hope they like it!! i'm almost at 400 followers and I was gonna release this when I hit that, but I am too excited to share this. leave me your thoughts! my requests are still open! <3

You and Tommy went way back. You had crushed on him since high school, his charisma was hypnotic and you were hooked the moment he asked for your phone number. You became borderline obsessed. He was the ideal boyfriend. A huge mama’s boy, respectful, and hilarious.

You hadn’t ever questioned Tommy’s intentions with you. You two even talked marriage.

It wasn’t until his 26th birthday that you noted a shift in his behavior and when everything officially fell apart. You had just spent all afternoon at his brother, Joel’s, house. You and Joel arranged a surprise birthday barbeque and you were so excited to spend his special day with him and his whole family.

The whole day, you lied and said you were going for a girls day out with your sister, who was newly single. Instead, you and Joel slaved over the stove making Tommy’s favorites. You also decorated the shit out of Joel’s whole house, with the help of his tween daughter, Sarah.

Joel told him to come over to help with fixing up his truck, but in actuality you all jumped out of your hiding spots and yelled “happy birthday!”

He hardly reacted. He was dazed seeing your beautiful smile peak up behind Joel’s recliner.

His attitude was distant the whole night. He wouldn’t kiss you, and pulled away every time you went in to wrap your arms around his waist. He drank way more than you expected, tallying up about 10 beers.

Joel noticed it, too.

Joel even asked if he should start taking it easy and cool it on the beer. That only pissed Tommy off, which lead you to break up an argument in front of their own mother. Joel was annoyed, noting how shitty Tommy was being towards you. He was ready to fight his own brother on his birthday.

After the festivities and helping Joel with the dishes, you bid the whole family farewell. Tommy was too drunk to drive home, so you knew you would take him home in your Toyota Corolla, telling Joel you’d be back tomorrow to get his truck.

“Drive safe you two,” Joel said in the driveway after assisting Tommy to the car. Even after Tommy yelled and fussed at him, he still gladly accepted Joel’s help. He knew he couldn’t walk any more than 50 feet. You smiled watching them, happy they could make amends so quickly, and started up your engine.

The whole ride home, Tommy kept checking his flip phone. The screen would light up into his glazed over eyes and he’d huff in frustration.

“Everything okay, baby?” You finally decide to ask.

You glance over in his direction and you could tell he was annoyed by the question. You bite the inside of your cheek, anticipating him to blow up at you next.

Tommy was not a nice drunk. He would blow up at the drop of a hat. There’d been countless times where he’d pick a fight with you after you picked him up from a bar or a friend’s house. You learned not to talk on any rides home when he was drinking. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“You want my honest answer?”

Of course, you did. But when he says it like that?

“What is it, Tommy?”

He clears his throat, “I’m fuckin’ your sister.”

You felt your world crashing around you in that instant. You slam on your breaks on a main road, unable to actively drive due to the shocking news. You pull off into an abandoned parking lot, your hands shaking as you throw the car in park.

“What?”

You didn’t even want to look over at him, your eyes welling with tears.

“Yeah,” Is all he says, his voice changing, “I’m sick of lyin’. It’s only been a couple times. But she wants to meet back up.”

His drunk honesty was like vomit coming out of his mouth. Constant and sickening. He was so heartless with his words. This wasn’t your Tommy. What made everything so much worse was that it was your fucking little sister. You two didn’t have the best relationship, but you still cared deeply for her. This was the ultimate betrayal. You couldn’t believe that she, of all people, would try to destroy your picture perfect life.

Not so picture perfect anymore.

The soft hum of the radio takes up the air. You felt like you could suffocate with all of the tension.

“How long?”

He chuckles lowly, “Longer than I’d probably like to admit. Why do you think her ex dumped her?”

You finally turn to him. He looked remorseless, not even batting an eye at your distraught expression.

“Get the fuck out of my car, Tommy,” You say sternly, “I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

“Oh come on baby,” He groans, “At least take me home.”

“Get,” The tears begin to fall, “Out. Now.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, “Fine, don’t want to watch you cry, anyway. Makes me feel like shit.”

He opens the car door and you watch as he stumbles out. He practically falls on the concrete, his footing wobbly from the alcohol. If you were as callous as him, you’d back your car right over him, but instead you sped off as soon as the door slammed shut.

Your hands are still vibrating, unsure of what to do next, you pick up your phone and dial Joel.

He answers after three rings.

“‘Sup, sweetheart?”

His Southern drawl is hushed, like he was trying to be quiet for someone. It was late, maybe he was putting Sarah to bed.

“Your brother.”

It’s all you could say before breaking out into a deep sob. He becomes panicked, immediately springing into older brother mode, begging you to tell him where you were.

You finally catch your breath, “He’s a cheating bastard. He fucked my sister and I left him in the old Hecht’s parking lot.”

Joel lets out a long sigh, “Where are you?”

“I’m driving,” You mutter, choking back more sobs you feel coming up, “I can’t go home.”

You knew going home would be painful. All the photos lining your walls of you and Tommy. The pictures with your own sister. All of his belongings scattered all over the house. You knew you’d spiral, untangling the mess and missed signs.

“Come back to my house,” He suggests, “I’ll go get Tommy and take him home. The back door will be unlocked, just come right in and settle down. Make some tea or somethin’.”

You nod even though he can’t see you.

Joel was the older brother you never had. He was mature and honest. You had come to him a couple times to analyze Tommy and his behavior. It didn’t happen often, but he was great at advice. You trusted him. He was family to you.

“Thanks Joel,” You wipe your tears, “See you in a bit.”

Luckily Sarah was fast asleep upstairs, snuggled up soundly, while you tried to contain your sobs. You couldn’t believe how drastically this evening turned.

Tommy cheated on you with your sister.

The man you were hoping to marry and settle down with? The one who was adored by your parents? The one you told all your darkest secrets to?

You had no clue how he would ever come back from this. And he did it with your sister?

You still could not grasp that it was her. The girl who always came to you for boy advice? Hell, she came to you last week asking about a guy she had be-

It was fucking Tommy. She wanted advice on how to woo your fucking boyfriend.

You wanted to strangle her too, but who knows what lies he may have been leading. You wanted the whole story, but you didn’t want to open a can of worms so late in the evening. You weren’t going to be sleeping, plagued by your own thoughts and emotions.

You’re curled up on Joel’s couch, using his huge knitted blanket as a cape. You turned on the TV only to give your cries some background noise.

Just when you stop the tears, Joel walks in with this look on his face. Disappointment. Rage.

“How ya holdin’ up, sweet girl?”

Joel had tons of pet names for you, but that was a new one. He has always called you anything but your actual name.

“Not good,” You say, choking back more tears. You were practically all cried out, your cheeks were stained bright red. Joel shuffles over to you, dropping his keys down on the coffee table. He plops down on the couch next to me.

“He’s a fuckin’ idiot,” He mutters, patting your unclothed thigh. Maybe it was the words he said that sent goosebumps up your body, not the fact he took a long second to remove his hand from your leg.

“I just can’t… Why would he do this?”

He huffs, shrugging his broad shoulders, “I asked him and he said it’s cuz you ain’t puttin’ out like you used to. Said that your sister came onto him and he couldn’t say no.”

It felt like another stab to the heart. You and Tommy had sex like three times a week. Every time he came inside you and praised you. You on the other hand, never came and had grown sick of having to finish yourself off every time it happened. So yeah, maybe you weren’t the eager youngin’ you were before, but you still fucked him whenever he wanted.

“That’s horseshit! I fuck him all the time. He is just… he’s a fucking cheating bastard. I just can’t believe it was her. Like what man fucks around with his girl’s own sister? He knows better.”

You’re trying to rationalize his behavior in your head. But Joel is not as kind.

“He obviously doesn’t, sweet girl. He…” He drifts off, catching himself for saying how he truly felt about his brother. Once he looks into your puffy red eyes, his tune changes, “He’s a stupid motherfucker for letting a girl like you go. Don’t know much about your sister, but she has some explainin’ to do, too.”

Your heart flutters a bit. Joel’s accent was so much more pronounced when he was angry, it was kind of hot. Why are you thinking that right now?

“I just can’t believe he would do something so… heartless. He didn’t even act sorry, Joel.”

“The alcohol made him bold, that’s for sure. Doesn’t ‘cuse the behavior, but ya know,” He sits back into his couch, “‘m sorry, sweetheart.”

You turn to face him, “Makes me think of the time he accused me of cheating.”

“He accused you of cheatin’? When?”

It was years ago, right after your 21st birthday. Joel and Tommy took you and a couple of your friends out to a club in downtown Austin. You took so many shots, you ended up dancing a bit too close with Joel. It led to a fight you had never brought up to Joel himself, but nonetheless, Tommy thought you had a thing for his older brother.

Sure, Joel was nice. He was a bit more serious than Tommy, always trying to be the rational one. He was an excellent and present father, dedicating his entire life to raising Sarah. He had similar features to Tommy. Tall, dark hair, beautiful brown eyes. When you talked to him, those eyes of his were so laser focused on what you said, sometimes you found yourself stumbling over your words.

Maybe it was a little crush.

“It was years ago,” You confess, looking down at your bitten back cuticles, “He thought I had a thing for you.”

His eyes zero in on your lips, like he’s trying to take the words out of your mouth, one by one.

“A thing? What type of thing?”

You shake your head, pushing your face into your hands. This wasn’t something you wanted to talk about, especially not now. But it was distracting you from thinking about what you could’ve done. Instead, you’re reminding yourself of all the shitty things Tommy has done over the years. That “perfect boyfriend” you had in the beginning was falling apart a long time ago. You just hadn’t seen the signs right in front of you. Now here they are, splattered all over the floor.

“He thought you and I had a bit too much fun on my 21st, I don't know! He always acted so weird when I talked about you. You’re like my brother, I would never cross that line.”

The silence in the room was deafening. You finally raise your head, looking at Joel’s contemplative face.

“Never?”

You stare at him, looking for a smile to crack across his face. Like it was a joke or something.

But it wasn’t.

The air in the room shifted.

“Joel,” You mumble, before his fingers reach up and trace your bottom lip gently, “We can’t.”

“Why ‘cause I’m like your brother, or ‘cause you’re still banking on kissin’ and makin’ up with Tommy?”

It was a fair question. Making up with Tommy was never even a question, though. After being burned so harshly, you didn’t see any redemption. He was done for. Once that confession slipped past his lips, he was as good as gone.

This would be the greatest revenge. Fucking his brother?

What could you lose?

Joel could be your rebound. Something to ease the harsh sting you still felt in your heart. You start to feel guilty pile in the pit of your tummy. But then you hear Tommy’s words ringing in your head.

“I’m fuckin’ your sister.”

Yeah, you could use some revenge.

“You can’t tell him,” You murmur, making sure it’s in a whisper. Even if you wanted this to be revenge, you didn’t want Tommy to know, “Ever.”

“It’ll be between you and me, baby girl.”

You nod, finally accepting his offer. He grabs your legs and pulls you into his lap. You never thought you’d see the day where you would be mounted on top of Joel Miller. His eyes feasted on you in a way that sent tingles straight down to your core.

“I can’t lie, baby girl,” He purrs, his hands tracing you from your thighs all the way up to your shoulders, “I have thought this scenario out countless times.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” His hand finds its way to your neck, “Seein’ you at family barbeques, watchin’ you at bars with Tommy. Always wanted to pull you into a bathroom and get a feel of these,” He runs his hands down your chest, catching the edge of your yellow tank top. Tommy’s favorite color on you. He pulls it down, revealing your white bra underneath. It was your favorite push up, a Christmas present from Tommy.

He was littering your body, but instead of Tommy’s hands removing every trace of himself away from your body, it was his brother.

Joel doesn’t take note of your dazed expression, he’s too focused on your cleavage spilling over your bra. His fingers trace back to the clasp, his fingers expertly unhooking it. It sent chills down your back, while your boobs fall further out of the bra. He helps you shimmy it off your front, his eyes lighting up when your boobs rest right in his eyeline.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” He groans, his thumb and pointer finger tugging on your left nipple. You hiss, letting yourself get out of your own head for a moment. Your boobs were extremely sensitive, which is why every man you’d ever been with used that to their advantage. Instead of treating your pussy to a good time, they just toyed with your nipples while drilling into you, which usually had you cumming after a couple minutes. Deep down, you wished Tommy had actually gave your pussy the time of day. Eat you out, finger you until you saw stars. But he never had “time for that”.

His words.

Joel wraps his lips around your nipple, letting his tongue circle around your areola. He uses his open hand to massage your other tit. Once he releases your nipple, he leaves love bites at the swell of your boobs. He groans at your reaction, which was grinding your hips achingly slow across his lap.

“Mmm,” You hum, your hands finding his brown locks, “More.”

“‘m not gonna fuck you here,” He scowls, “Gonna take you to my bed.”

Without warning, he stands up, gripping onto your thighs to take you with him. You yelp in shock, throwing your arms around his neck.

“I got you,” He states, walking down the hall to his bedroom. You had been in there before, only to grab his wallet one day when you guys were in a rush to get to Sarah’s soccer game.

It was only slightly messy and smelled like him. Clean laundry and strawberry shampoo.

You were thrown atop his unmaid sheets, bouncing a bit at the impact. You decide to use the time of Joel crawling onto to the bed, to completely discard your tank top. Joel’s body takes over yours, his one hand propping him up, the other feeling your sides and scooping up your breast.

“Think I’m gonna take my time with you,” He grunts, his hand finding your short’s belt loops, “Make you forget everythin’ and focus on me.”

You nod, agreeing to his terms.

He sits back on his knees, tugging down your shorts and thong. He hisses as soon as he notes the wetness on your lacey panties. Once he tosses the items beside the bed, he nudges your knees apart.

“Damn, baby girl,” He just looks at you completely spread for him, shaking his head in disbelief, “Tommy’s a fuckin’ idiot. Could look at this pussy every minute of every day.”

You moan before you can retaliate, your mind responding to his fingers tracing your slit up and down. You watch him crawl up you, his lips so close to yours. You two hadn’t even kissed yet, instantly going to tearing each other’s clothes off. It felt more intimate, more real.

He finally leans in, pursing his lips to meet yours.

Joel was gentler than expected. Tommy was always hurried, his kisses only to warm you up a bit. You never really kissed during sex either, because he always had you doggy, which wasn’t ideal for kisses.

Joel’s kisses took your breath away. He was slow and methodical, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You finally decide to pull him down onto your naked body, his hips settling between yours. The action made him a bit more eager, as he grinded his crotch into your wet center.

“Gonna have me cumming in my jeans, sweet thing,” He laughs, pulling away from your swollen lips. He crawls back down the bed, his shoulders resting between your thighs this time.

“What are you doing?” You ask, hesitantly.

He smiles again, “‘m gonna eat this beautiful pussy of yours. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You had no real objections, it just something you had never fully enjoyed with anyone else before. You were willing to see what Joel Miller could bring to the table. You nod your head in agreement, letting him rest his hand on your lower tummy, holding you in place for his mouth. He ducks down, pressing small kisses over your clit. His actions already had you writhing under his touch.

He continues on, gripping your stomach a bit harder as he explores your pussy with his tongue. He switches between sucking and licking, eventually settling with running his tongue in circles inside of you. You were a groaning mess, your hand eventually finding your mouth so you could control the volume. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself with how loud you could be. He stops as soon as you do it.

“You ain’t gotta do that,” He says, his mouth wet with your slick, “I wanna hear those pretty little moans of yours. Don’t worry about anyone hearin’ ya.”

You take your hand off your mouth and he continues on with his assault on your folds. It’s sending you into overdrive, watching him go down on you. He was so hot, splayed out between your thighs, devouring you whole.

His exploration ends with him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking you up like a straw. You couldn’t believe how good the vibration felt.

You were feeling that heat in your stomach, so as soon as Joel slipped his hand up and began adding fingers inside you, you knew you were done for. He starts with two, fucking you slowly and systematically. He curls his fingers up like a hook, his lips still wrapped around your bud.

This was it. This is what you were missing.

Your unrestrained pleas don’t fall on deaf ears. Your orgasm hits you like a semi-truck. You reach for anything in your vicinity, which happened to be Joel’s hair and his white sheets. He didn’t let up on you as you came around his fingers, fucking you through it.

“Holy f-fuck,” You stutter, “Joel what the fuck?”

“We are just gettin’ started, sweetheart,” He states, standing up beside the bed to take his clothes off. His cock was standing at attention in his boxers before he tore them off.

Tommy was above average, but Joel was well endowed.

You gape at the view, unable to really form a coherent sentences.

“You’re droolin’,” He jokes, finding his way back on top of you. You giggle, letting the joke roll of your shoulder, instead of letting it embarrass you. He finds your lips again, kissing you roughly this time. You could tell he was aching for you, his hips finding their way between yours again.

“Oh,” You say, feeling his tip nudge your folds, “I’m on birth control, by the way.”

“I assumed so,” He states plainly, kissing your neck and chest, “Won’t cum in you unless you want me to.”

You grin, “You’re all about consent, ain’t ya?”

He laughs, “You’re in control here, baby girl. ‘M just here to get your mind off all the shit.”

You have never been so enamored by a man in your life. He was saying all the right things, but you knew in your heart he wasn’t just saying anything. Joel was a genuine guy. He never lied to you or belittled you.

The longer you’re under him the more you start to realize that this is what you’ve wanted all along.

He brings you back to reality with an feverish kiss, drawing you back to the moment. His hands trail down your side, tickling you a bit.

“Hey,” You murmur, pulling away from his delicious mouth, “I want to… I uh-“

You don’t know how to say it. To be honest, you and Tommy were in a routine with sex so you didn’t know how to ask to suck someone off. You usually just did it first to get it done and over with. But you felt like you needed to do it for Joel, not out of obligation, but because you wanted to see him squirm under your touch. You have thought about it more than once.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Let me suck your dick.”

He smiles, letting out a slight chuckle at your demand. He never thought he’d hear that coming from your mouth. He waits a second, acting like he’s seriously contemplating the offer.

Of course he was going to accept.

You sit up, giving him more space to lay down next to you. You crawl over his legs, settling between his calves. His cock was red, the veins so prominent. It was just waiting for you. He tucks his one arm behind his head, propping it up to watch you put on a show.

“Let me know if I’m doing okay,” You ask sheepishly. You wanted to punch yourself for saying something so stupid. You were never confident in your abilities and you didn’t want to disappoint Joel.

He nods, watching you grab onto his shaft with your hands, “You’ll do great, baby girl.”

You spit into your hands once you realize you need more lubrication. You crouch more, jerking him off slowly. He is already so reactive, throwing his head back against his headboard.

You begin to tease him, peppering kisses onto his shaft and tip as it leaked. You smile when you hear him hiss at you toying with him. You finally wrap your lips around his dick, sucking in your cheeks as you pull your head back. He was so big you couldn’t physically get your mouth completely down his length. He was girthy, too, which didn’t help either when it came to almost unhinging your jaw to take all of him.

“Such a good girl,” He praises, taking your hair into his grip, “You ain’t gotta take it all.”

The reassurance was comforting. You didn’t feel any pressure with Joel, which only made him more desirable in your eyes.

You watch his face twist in delight every time you take him into your mouth, wrapping his cock in your saliva.

“Keep doin’ that and ‘m gonna cum in that mouth,” His drawl is so buttery and deep, your center literally clenches.

You pull off of him, gaining some confidence in your bedroom talk.

“Need that done somewhere else.”

He shakes his head, sitting up more to manhandle you up to his lap. As you slide across his body, you feel his wet cock touch your inner thighs.

Your mouth falls open as soon as his hands grab your hips and settle you right over his length. You are on your knees on either side of his thighs, looking down at him and his absolutely spent expression. His curls were standing in all different directions and his eyes were dark with anticipation.

“Want me to do the honors?”

He grabs his cock, positioning it right below your opening. Your lips twitch upward, shaking your head positively.

He lines you up, pushing his hips upward. He is stretching you immediately, the angle making you crumble under his touch already. Your legs practically give out when he’s partially sheathed in you, which causes you just to sit and take the rest of him in you.

“Oh my fucking god,” You moan out, shutting your eyes to soak in every twitch, “I have never been this fucking full.”

Your eyes fly open, realizing what you just insinuated.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I knew he wasn’t givin’ you exactly what you needed,” He starts to guide your hips to circle his, “I give you what you need.”

You never expected him to be so confident, but it was so hot. You rested your hands on his pecks and started easing yourself up and down onto his length. His lips flick upward, watching you get yourself off on his dick. He loved watching you like this, just enjoying yourself.

After a minute, he realizes he can’t let you be the only one doing the work. You were so in your own world, riding him and feeling every inch of him. Your blissed out mind gets over taken when he grabs you and rolls on onto your back. He is on his knees as he grabs your legs with both of his hands, spreading you out. He grinds into you, his cock hitting you at a different angle now.

You moan out, reaching out to grab his shoulders. He takes the hint and dips down to capture your lips again, caging your body between his. He picks up the pace when you start to press your tongue forward into his mouth. You can’t help but whimper at how good he feels.

“You fuck me so good,” You mewl. He was panting, his hot breath fanning your wildly tangled hair. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing on making you feel good. Every pump inside you brought you closer to that familiar warm feeling. He notices your heat clenching around him, which makes him want to change up his technique. He pushes off the pillows, grabbing your hips and slamming into you at a rate you didn’t know Joel was capable of.

“God, I can’t believe how fuckin’ good you feel, baby,” He pants, his thumb finding your swollen bud. As soon as he puts pressure there, you’re screaming out. “Mhm, that feel good? This cock better than his?”

“Yes, Joel, oh my god!”

He doesn’t let up. He wants to see you fall apart so bad, knowing those beautiful whimpers will send him into ecstasy.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Know you’re aching to,” He clenches his teeth, “Let go.”

You have never had your vision go white when you orgasm. It’s like you’re about to see the gates to Heaven. He holds your body, making sure to feel every nerve in your body fire off into euphoria. You don’t even know what you’re saying, you just know it’s an iteration of his name and a bunch of cuss words as you reach your peak.

You were absolutely obsessed. You knew it as soon as the come down brought back your vision and you saw Joel. He was throwing his head back while painting your insides with his cum. He looks so delicious, his entire toned upper body glistening with sweat.

He had to be the only man in the world, in that moment.

Once he pulls out, you truly realize how sensitive your core is. You shiver, feeling his cum trickling down your backside. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You just fucked your boyfriend’s brother. And it was the best sex you’d ever had in your life.

You thought you’d feel that all too familiar regret, but instead you just look over at Joel as he flops down next to you. He’s staring at you, a slight smirk playing on his lips. You were trying to find the right words to say to him. He just did the Lord’s work.

Do you say thank you?

“You okay,” He asks while he runs his hand up your arm, causing goosebumps to litter your skin.

You grin, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He was worried you’d go home and see Tommy passed out on the couch where he left him and regret everything. He knew you would probably stay here anyway, but he anticipated you taking the guest room next to Sarah’s.

But you weren’t going to take the guest room. No, you wanted to spend the rest of the night in his arms. Maybe even go for round two.

“As long as I get to stay right here,” You purr, taking his hand from your arm. You bring it up to your lips and kiss his fingers, “Right beside you.”

END

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ofloveandstardust · 2 months

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A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel fluff #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel

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girlboypersonthingy · 2 months

Note

valentines day with lucifer pleaseee

YAASSS IM SUCH A LUCIFER SIMP *bangs on table* I love him so much, it’s a problem. Like look at him… 🥹 thanks for the request and ENJOY!

(I don’t own this picture)

Lucifer x reader- Valentine’s Day 🤍

Whether you two have been together for 3 weeks or 3 centuries, he will ask you to be his valentine every. single. year.

Baby boy is such a hopeless romantic I stg

Goes all out too! Would never just get you flowers and chocolates. From the king of hell?! No way. Only the absolute best for his love.

In this case, this is your very first Valentine’s Day together!!! D’AAAWWWWW

You come home/back to the hotel the day before valentines and there’s red and pink balloons every where, rose petals all over the ground, the lights are dim and soft. Very much a romantic movie scene type thing.

“(Y/N)~” Lucifer calls out to you sweetly, softly as he watches you look around at all the new decor.

When he finally has your attention, he holds his gloved hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.

You can’t help but smile as you run to hug him. He laughs softly against you before he pops the question, his arms gently squeezing you against him.

“(Y/N)? Will you be my valentine, sweetheart?” And all you can do is laugh and hold him even closer.

“Oh, Luci~ Of course I will!”

OBVIOUSLY this dork makes you a cool ass duck as a gift. It’s one that really relates to you, has something to do with your looks or personality or an inside joke between the two of you. It’s special just for you 🥹

Def wants to take you on a nice date somewhere. Maybe a fancy restaurant, maybe to a bar, maybe a coffee shop for some caffeine and sweets.

Def asks you what you want to do and leaves the choice to you. He’s fine with whatever as long as he can hold your hand and give you kisses every 2 seconds so often.

DEFINITELY picks you up in a fancy ass car with a chauffeur and champagne and everything!

Whatever you decide to do, he’s sooooo distracted the whole time. There’s so much on his mind rn and it’s all different thoughts about you, most of them innocent 😈

I mean how is he supposed to keep his thoughts 100% clean and innocent when you dressed so nicely for your valentines date and you keep laughing extra loud at his jokes and blushing bright red at every compliment he shoots your way.

Of course he dresses to the nines as well. He looks great in white, don’t get me wrong. But him in a deep red suit with pink accents for valentines?!,!!??!,? PLZ 😍

He also loves the way people stare when you two go out together. Sure, it’s not totally conventional for the king of hell, Lucifer himself, to be so deeply in love with someone of your status but that’s what really bonds you two. It’s not some arrangement or a deal made for your soul or anything besides true love and attraction for each other.

He loves and trusts you so much, you’re so different from everyone else who fights for his attention.

And you’re just thanking your lucky stars, wondering how the hell you pulled him. He’s so perfect omfgggg

He is sure to ask you if everything is to your liking, how you’re feeling, what you want to do next. He’s very observant and considerate.

It’s hard to even eat or drink or whatever you’re trying to focus on bc he keeps staring at you and holding your hand and winking at you Everytime you guys make eye contact.

Don’t get me wrong! He’s lovey dovey and super sweet all the time but on this holiday of romance and love, he’s going 1000 times harder!

He would totally take you back to his house to finish off your romantic evening.

Probably puts on some music and takes off his coat to get more comfy.

Offers you a drink and goes to make it himself, adding some cute little garnish to it just to be fancy for you.

Sits on the couch in the living room with you and keeps his hands on you in some way. Touching your thigh, holding your hand, rubbing your arm or your back.

Proceeds to talk your ear off about everything and anything as his hands roam your body subconsciously.

Luci definitely talks a lot, rambles on and on to you all the time. Hope you’re a good listener ;) he doesnt have many other loved ones to talk to you so you get to hear it all

He talks so much he probably often tells you the same story over and over again. You tell him “Yes, Luci. You told me this already.” with a sweet smile at least once a day.

Tries to kiss you but accidentally bumps his head into yours instead.

Now you’re both laughing so loud, blushing so bright red and can’t maintain eye contact for more than a second or two.

He probably cracks a joke to ease the tension in the room too. And even worse, it’s some lame dad joke or a pun lmaoooo

Leans in again, much slower this time. His eyes flutter shut and he purses his lips as he approaches.

His kiss is scorching hot but so so soft.

Maybe you guys have kissed before, maybe not. But this kiss hits different. Maybe it’s the Valentine’s Day sweetness in the air, maybe it’s because he’s so goofy and silly and comfortable with you all the time, maybe it’s the drinks you’ve had tonight, maybe all three?

But this kiss…is the most passionate you’ve ever shared with him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer headcanons #Lucifer Morningstar x reader

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23lvrs · 2 months

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nct febuary boys twt links

nct x reader 18+

doyoung was a bit worried you would forget his birthday but he soon found out the surprise you planned for him because you’re so bad at hiding stuff he thought it was so cute he wanted to make you feel nice before the surprise as a thank you

jisung always gives you princess treatment so for his birthday you decided you would be doing all the work while he lays down enjoying you riding

johnny planned on making you scream his name all night for his special day he knew exactly how to do it

jaehyun is in love with your tits so of course one of your gifts to him for this special day had to have them involved

jungwoo was so happy on his day because he was in you all day his favorite place to be

ten knew you were truly going to make his day so good when he woke up to you going cray for his fingers

a/n: anon ur so SMART for this idea like girl this is the inspo i needed thank u<3 also happy birthday to all my february babies >.<

masterlist for more of my work twitter for extra & early content

likes, cmts & shares appreciated :)

venmo me here or cash app me here if you’d like to support me or my work

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #doyoung smut #jisung smut #johnny smut #jaehyun smut #jungwoo smut #ten smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #nct x female reader #nct x you

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fleurrreads · 3 months

Note

hi hi hi! could you write something for charles leclerc x single!mom!reader? maybe her son ( or daughter or both ) both him for the first time and they're all protective over their mom, and she has to leave them alone for sometime and when she finds them they're bonding? this probably does not make sense but oh well have something to eat and some water if you haven't in the last hour! and can i be 🎧 anon, if it isn't taken already? my pronouns are she/her and i'm 18!

an: i had a lot of fun writing this one, and i think it has a special place in my heart forever ♡ i’ll add you to the list! welcome lovely 💫

You’ve been seeing Charles for about four months now. In that time you haven’t introduced him to your son — Cody, who is seven. You were worried about him meeting your boyfriends and them leaving, which would mean they also leave him behind. So none of your boyfriends have ever met Cody.

Charles knows about Cody though, and vice versa. You’re currently dressing up to go out on a date with Charles as Cody sits on your bed, little feet dangling from the side. “You look so pretty mommy. Are you going on a date today?” The little boy rubs his eyes, visibly exhausted from the day. He has a lot of energy during the day and then he winds down and passes out by nine. He’s a lot like you in that sense.

You sit down on your bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Thank you baby. Yes I’m going on a date with Charles today. He’ll be here soon to pick me up.” You see the gears turning in his little head, and he meets your eyes. “Do you trust him?” He asks, fiddling with the hem of your dress. A nervous tick he got from you no doubt.

“Yes angel, I trust him more than anyone. Do you want to meet him and see for yourself?” The only way Cody will be less worried about you is if he met Charles and saw for himself that he was a good guy. He nods, gathering himself up and running to the living room where Scooby Doo is playing on the tv, the babysitter that you got for tonight was still on the way so you wouldn’t be able to leave before she arrived.

You hear the distinctive sound of Charles’ car coming to a stop in-front of your house when you see Cody’s head shoot up, looking through the curtain at the car that stopped in front. “Woah” You hear him softly whisper to nobody in particular. You smile , making your way towards the front door to let Charles inside.

Charles looks absolutely incredible, not too fancy and not too casual. He kisses you on the cheek, aware of the little boy now sitting on the couch looking warily at him. “Hello my love, are you nearly ready to go?” He looks at Cody, smiling at him. “Hello Cody. It’s nice to officially meet you.” he shakes the little boy’s hand.

Cody smiles softly, “It’s nice to meet you, uncle Charles.” Your heart warms at the smile on Charles’ face. You walk to the bedroom. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I just need to finish getting ready.” You sit down at your vanity, trying to finish your makeup as fast as you can to not leave Cody with Charles too long. You know Cody isn’t always comfortable at first with people, and you don’t want him to feel like that with Charles.

In the living room Charles hunches down to Cody’s level. “What’s wrong Cody? Did I do something wrong?” He wants to make a good impression on him, because he sees you and him being together for a long time. Cody looks at him with big eyes. “Do you really like my mommy?”

Charles’ heart aches as he looks at Cody. He’s trying to protect your feelings before you can get hurt. He’s probably seen you come back from other dates either absolutely exhausted or crying.Charles realises that Cody just doesn’t want you to go through that again.

Tears are now prominent on the little boy’s waterline as Charles gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I love your mom. She’s an incredible woman and I’d like to spend a long time making her happy. She means a lot to me, you know. And I’d like to make you happy too. I was thinking that we could go on a drive tomorrow if you’d like. We can go get ice cream and stop by any shop you want.” Charles notices the hint of excitement in Cody’s eyes. He also sees the relief in the little boy’s face, hearing Charles speak so lovingly about his mom.

Cody grins at him, “I’d love to! Your car is really cool. Does it go really fast?” Question after question falls from the little boy’s mouth, his excitement not contained anymore. Charles chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to Cody, answering every question he’s got.

You finally emerge out of the bedroom, hair done nicely, makeup finished as you make your way to the living room where you find no Charles and no Cody. How odd. As you begin searching you hear giggles coming from the kitchen and your heart swells at the image you see as you peek around the corner.

Cody’s sitting on the counter, a pancake in his mouth, laughing at Charles who’s attempting to flip the pan expertly as to flip the pancake around. He failed miserably as the pancake misses the pan and splats on the floor. Cody laughs loudly. “You’re so silly Charlie.”

A nickname. Cody gave Charles a nickname. You feel your heart ache as you smile at them. Charles has a faint flush to his cheeks when he spots you in the hallway, a smile on your face. “What’s going on in here? Are you burning my house down, Cha?” Cody turns his head to you, still happily snacking on a pancake that didn’t fall to the floor. “We’re making pancakes! Do you want one mommy?” Cody offers you a plate with a smiley-faced pancake and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, thank you baby.” You sit down at the counter, enjoying the moment with them.

Charles made you call the babysitter to cancel. “Why would we go anywhere else when this is where I could only dream to be.” He took your hand as you’re now sitting on the couch. Cody sitting on his other side, you see Charles holding his hand as well. Your heart swells at the image, and you realise that this was what you’d dreamed of as a little girl. A perfect family.

“We can go on a date another day this week. This moment is more important.” Charles whispers, giving you a small kiss and continuing to watch the cartoons on tv.

You realise that this is how you’d be able to spend forever. With them. With Charles.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x single!mom!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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hannieehaee · 6 months

Text

18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo (not super pervy but i tried my best 🫡), smut, f reader, penetrative sex, established relationship (situatuonship is mentioned but idk lets assume they're exclusive just bc i can), he's kinda a dick, etc.

wc: 905

masterlist

streamer!wonwoo perv!wonwoo whose audience believes him to be a golden boy. simply a polite yet charming guy whos into video games, who just so happens to be insanely handsome. his thick rimmed glasses and wavy hair almost covering his eyes, accompanied by those wide shoulders, was able to catch the attention of all of those looking for a pretty face to look at while consuming content from their favorite video games (although many keep their eyes glued to the tiny view of wonwoo on the corner of the screen rather than the game itself).

the people watching him through the screen dont even see the half of it, though, not knowing how much of a perv he is when in real life. not so much a respectful and charming guy, but a degenerate who keeps up the act for appearances. after all, that is how he first got to you a few years back, when you, one of the few who had been a loyal viewer since before his channel blew up, decided that you just HAD to have the pretty nerd rambling about league of legends on stream.

after a few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts at catching his attention through leaving various suggestive comments, wonwoo finally decided to take a look at your account, noting an instagram linked on your bio. after seeing that the desperate commentator he had taken a liking to seeing always punctual in his streams was a pretty girl in his area, his mind went straight to the gutter, finding his hands moving on their own to send you a message detailing his interest.

a few months later and you found yourself in a months-long situationship with the streamer, having him hit you up almost every other day when he needed 'something warm warm to stick his dick in', as he so nicely put it as he had you sitting on top of him, cockwarming him while he gamed (off-stream, of course).

having a such a well paying stay at home job had many perks, including the ability to take any day off he wanted to fuck you into his bed, somehow managing to never scare you away with his very obvious obsession with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with little to no regard for the exhaustion you'd feel after a few hours with him. somehow the roles had reversed, with him now being the one to continuously pursue you under the vice of getting under your pants every second he could.

"n-nonu fuck. slow down, i-" you whined as he senselessly bounced you up and down on his dick, rhythm completely lost a few rounds ago.

he practically growled at your complaint, "you asked for this when you showed up wearing that tiny excuse for a skirt while i was on stream."

"you asked me over-"

"for moral support, baby. not for you to parade yourself around me knowing i wouldnt be able to hold back from taking this pussy," he breathed out, angling you slightly differently, now causing you to whine even louder at your clit being stimulated by the friction.

"does your audience know how m- agh fuck. how much of a perv you are? leaving mid stream to get your dick wet?"

your brattiness causes him to disconnect your bodies, flipping yours over to put you on your hands and elbows and ramming himself into you with no warning.

"be thankful i'm fucking you of all people baby. be thankful this pussy has such a grip on me to get you on my bed every night," he sped up as he spoke filth into your ears.

wonwoo had a special way of making you feel like an object, something which you only enjoyed when it came to him. despite being such a fucking perv, you enjoyed the dynamic you had built, allowing him to play with your body however he saw fit as long as he made you cum. and jesus christ, did he.

"fuck," you felt the end coming near and began to push yourself back against him, grinding into him as much as you could despite his clammy hands having such a tight hold on your hips.

"im gonna make you cream all around me and then im gonna fill you up. okay, baby? then im gonna go back on stream while you keep my bed w- ah fuck. warm for me. if you're a good girl for me, i'll fuck you to sleep afterwards," he rasped out, losing his rhythm even further as he neared his own high.

a few more harsh thrusts later and you were creaming around him, tightening up so much that he, too, reached his peak, filling you up and letting go of your hips, causing you to fall flat against the mattress.

"fuck. baby, never show up like that here again. i almost died," he breathed out as he tried to do a decent job at cleaning you up a bit and tucking you under the covers.

despite his perverted treatment of your body, wonwoo was always sweet to you when his mind wasnt filled with sex (which admittedly wasnt often).

"you act as if i forced you to fuck me," you retaliate despite knowing you did wear that skirt with a specific purpose in mind.

"just shut up and go to sleep, baby. you'll need your energy back soon."

n/a: this is ass im rlly bad at writing men who r not obsessed with their s/o im sorry </33

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader

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mncxbe · 3 months

Text

𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: bsd, csm, headcanons fluff n smut♡

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: since Vday will be here soon I wanted to do a little something♡ hope you like it babes

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑ ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑

𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢

sneaky bastard. he pretends to forget about Valentine's day just to see your cute pout– "aww bella didn't know you cared so much about this silly little day. fine, fine, you got me. I did get you a gift"

totally gets you a very thoughtful gift and writes you a letter. he's really not good at expressing his feelings through words, so letters have to do

he wakes up early so he can pick fresh flowers for you from the park. I really think Dazai isn't the type to buy you tacky bouquets. and of course he makes you breakfast in bed– "rise and shine, beautiful. I made you your favourite." he'd purr, placing a plate of hot blueberry pancakes in front of you "dig in, we have plans today"

definitely skips work so he can spend time with you, but he eventually has to go to the Ada office after Kunikida threatens to fire him. don't worry tho, he'll make up for the lost time when he comes back home in the evening

that night he's more gentle than usual, making sure that you enjoy yourself. after all the day is all about you and he's going to do his best to please you– "Ah fuck 'donna you're doing so well. you like it? s-sure hope you do angel 'm gonna make you cum f'me alright? atta girl..."

𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚

he's such a gentleman omg

because of his job, he can't be there with you when you wake up, but you can be sure he's going to leave you a romantic note on the nightstand

he sends you flowers and expensive praline boxes at work just to make sure that your female colleagues envy you–"everyone needs to know how well i treat my pretty girl, right baby?"

in the evening he finally gets the chance to give you the rest of his gifts: lingerie, expensive perfumes and of course, his affections and undivided attention♡

a candle lit, bubble bath with a glass of wine is mandatory. you lay in his arms, your back flush against his chest while he plays with your hair, whispering the sweetest things in your ear "i love you, pretty girl. i'm glad that you're mine never forget that"

𝐀𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

sweet boy, he's so confused and overwhelmed

he doesn't really understand the whole point of Valentine's day but he wantes to make the day special for you

he plans it weeks ahead, asking Chuuya for advice. i see him talking to Gin about what gifts he could give you; she's his sister after all, she must know what a girl wants

Akutagawa buys you books for Valentine's day. a book-bouquet to be more specific and makes you dinner at home

please show him that you care and appreciate his efforts. he's super anxious about it– "You mean it was nice? you enjoyed yourself with me, right? oh thank god"

after dinner, he wouldn't mind getting down to some more intimate activities♡ if you want that ofc. once he's back in your arms with his face buried in the crook of your neck as he fucks you slowly, he finally manages to relax, all worries seeping out of him "My angel... I-I love you so much ah fuck- please never leave me" yea, he gets very emotional

𝐅𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢

he straight up forgets about Valentine's day, it's just not a priority for him and no matter how many times you try to hint at it he doesn't get it

he's confused when he sees you pouting and doesn't really understand what's wrong? but once he gets to work Teruko tells him that it's Valentine's day he's so mad at himself.

ofc he tries to make up for it in the evening when he gets home from work

he brings you a bouquet of roses (one of the pre-made ones y'all know what i'm talking about💀) but it's the thought that counts and apologises for forgetting– "i'm sorry sweetheart, didn't mean to upset you, ya know? i had a lot on my plate lately and it just slipped my mind. c'mon baby don't be mad"

he doesn't drop it until you accept his apology. if you're up for it he takes you out to dinner at the most expensive place in town♡

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐞

man... where do i even start

he doesn't get the point of it either, just sees the day as an opportunity to spend time with his beloved♡

despite his cold demeanour, Kishibe's a real thoughtful person. he doesn't buy you any overly expensive gifts but he picks flowers for you probably sneaks some from the cemetery too

if you wanna do something special he's totally down for it– "Hm? You wanna go have dinner at that new place in town? Sure, dear, I'll book us a table don't worry about it."

he's not very affectionate either but once you two are back home, in the comfort of your apartment, his tongue loosens a bit–"Ya know, princess, you're one of the best things that happened to me. thank you, really. why're you laughing, i'm serious. you know i don't joke about matters of the heart"

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

you probably have to explain the concept of Valentine's day to him

Angel's too lazy to plan anything for the two of you so you have to settle for ordering takeout and watching a movie

lets you cuddle him if you insist enough and make sure that every inch of your skin is covered so he doesn't accidentally drain your lifespan

hear me out now. stargazing with him >>

he's the happiest man on earth if you gift him a pack of ice cream cones or some flowers. he's definitely the type to press them just because they're a gift from you and he treasures every little thing you do for him, even if he doesn't always show it

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freyito · 3 months

Text

ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇꜱ ᴅᴀʏ & ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ [ᴍᴋ1]

✧ a/n: part one of my big ol valentines day posts. this one is for the mk1 boys only... unfortunately I had to remove of the boys because I genuinely cannot see them celebrating v-day... i apologize T_T!!! anyways HAPPY VALENTINES DAY :PPP <333!!!

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 1862

⎯Liu Kang

Part of Liu Kang wants to make Valentine's Day an over-the-top experience. But one of the things he’s learned over time (not just through his godhood) is that there is beauty in the simple things. Unfortunately he’s still busy, but trust, he’s got a nice little night all planned out.

A nice dinner at Madame Bo’s is arranged, accompanied by a nice, slightly extravagant bouquet, consisting of flowers from outworld, and some eucalyptus! And Liu Kang’s biggest gift to you is a book. Full of poetry. He doesn’t waste a single word within his writings, relating every single word back to you. And at the end, he ditches the poetry, a simple “I love you” written within the back of the book.

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han is sappy as HELL for Valentine’s Day. Sure, his imposing demeanor is off-putting, but he wants nothing more than to spoil his lover, shower them with gifts. He’ll act like Valentine’s Day is a silly idea, that “he could do all of those things whenever”.

But, when Valentine’s Day rolls around, he surprises you with breakfast in bed. It’s… quite decadent. But hey, who can say no to a home cooked meal? Throughout the day he peppers you with all sorts of gifts, and refuses to say that it’s for Valentine’s Day when you ask. Flowers, chocolates, and other miscellaneous items. Bi-Han isn’t afraid to show off his wealth, especially when he can buy you all the gifts you could possibly want. Despite this, at the end of the day, he chooses to settle with you on the bed, and hold you close. He whispers all the things he loves about you and how happy you’ve made him. In the end, he could care less for grand gestures, settling for words instead.

⎯ Kuai Liang

Nothing is wrong with a little simplicity on Kuai Liang’s end. Valentine’s Day isn’t the biggest thing to him, however he does like to make it special. He does his best to spend time with you whenever, but especially so on Valentine’s Day. Building the Shirai Ryu has him busy, running all around with barely any free-time.

But, Kuai has somehow escaped his work load for the day. He greets with you a simple bouquet, with pink tulips, baby’s breath, and pink roses. Plus some yellow tulips thrown in (because it’s close enough to his favorite colors). Paired with a nice little card. He doesn’t need to make his love some sort of big show– hell, he doesn’t need a day for it. He lets you know every day how much you mean to him, and he shows it, as well. Who needs just a day to reinforce that?

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny’s corny. He goes above and beyond for you on Valentine’s Day. He gets all the usual stuff, a horribly luxurious bouquet, like 7 boxes of chocolate (or a different candy if you don’t like it), and like seventeen cards worth of how much he loves you. Good god, if he could, he’d probably change his license plate to YOUR NAME for V-day if he could. Granted, every holiday with him is beyond your expectation.

And of course, the main show is in the evening. After a rather extravagant dinner, he brings you home to be greeted with a trail of rose petals leading towards the bedroom. Cage has got the biggest, goofiest smile on his face when you follow it. He’s got the lights dimmed perfectly, the petals on the bed are shaped like a heart, and in the middle of it, a little tray with two glasses and a bottle of sparkling cider. He wanted to make a grandiose gesture…. and don’t be surprised if he gets down on one knee, either.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is a sucker for V-day, actually. He won’t miss any opportunity to spoil you and shower you with his love, in fact, he does his best to get Valentine’s day off. Regardless of how much he loves the holiday, he sticks to simplicity. He likes to make it a beautiful event, it starts at 12 am for him and ends at 11:59 pm. He wants to make the day just as wonderful for you as he plans.

It starts with a voice message in the morning. A nice little good morning, followed by him telling you to dress your best and that he’ll pick you up around 11am. Why isn’t he there to say that in person? He’s already out, looking for the best bouquet he can find. He refuses to do it any time before, because he wants them to be as fresh as possible. And when he finally picks you up, you’re in for a beautiful night out, with a quaint dinner, and some sappy and romantic dancing by the end of the night. Kenshi gives you the royalty treatment (although, he treats you as such every day), he leaves no room for question of his love.

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao is a bit of a mess when it comes to Valentine’s Day. He’s always got such big plans, something magnificent, bigger than the world itself. It’s not that he can’t, it’s that he doesn’t have enough time. But, just when he freaks out about disappointing you, he reminds himself just how much he loves you. And perhaps there’s no need for a big display.

So, he shows up at your door with a simple bouquet of roses, and a smile on his face. He’s saved all the sappy words he can spill to you for a card, he’s pestered Madam Bo to keep a table open just for you two tonight. And when he’s met with your smile, he realizes it was all worth it. And… for once, he’s totally okay with paying! Every time you look at him, every time you laugh, every little thing you do, it makes him happy.

⎯ Raiden

Raiden’s V-Day “celebration” is pretty quaint. It isn’t flashy, it isn’t anything big. But it’s you and him, and that’s exactly how he likes it. Valentine’s Day isn’t the biggest thing for him, he thinks he shows his love for you everyday, and that’s enough. But regardless, he’ll celebrate with you, especially if you want him to.

He presents a small bouquet of sunflowers to you, before taking you out for a nice little picnic. It’s surprising how he was able to find such a secluded spot, something that feels like it’s just you two… which it is. That’s all he needs, though. To sit there, under the clouds, with you in his arms. Raiden plays with your hair, whispering every little thing he loves about you (like he does all the time), sprinkling in ‘i love you’s and much more in between sweet nothings.

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Good god, does Tomas splurge on Valentine’s Day. He buys a bunch of stuffed animals– teddy bears specifically– like a month in advance. He tries to be subtle about it, but he’s got a horrible poker face when it comes to you. He’s all smiles and blushes whenever V-Day is even brought up, because he finds it so hard not to spill what he has in store for you. It’s a secret, dammit, and you’re normally the person he tells everything to!

And when the day comes, he’s practically skipping to your door. He’s got a big ol’ teddy bear in his arms, one of the ones that’s easily the length of your bed. This one will join the massive hoard of stuffed animals Tomas has gotten you. Other than the massive teddy bear, he takes you out for a nice little dinner, something cozy and warm. And when the night is over, he’s dragging his feet, cause he doesn’t want V-Day to end.

⎯ Syzoth

The idea of Valentine’s Day is lost to Syzoth. There’s not really an equivalent for Zatterans (and he’s not necessarily interested in Outworld's equivalent), but all you need to do is explain it to him and he’s got a couple of ideas in mind. He doesn’t have the strongest grip on the concept, to him it’s more of like ‘an even fancier date all day’– in his words.

He’s managed to make an impressive bouquet, with all sorts of flowers that you haven’t even seen in Outworld before. He’s quite proud of himself, but the bouquet isn’t the main part. It’s stargazing. He’ll spend time with you throughout the day, however, he can’t wait for the evening. He’s not so sure on entering Sun Do, so most of the day is essentially stalking through the woods. Not that it’s bad, it’s quite peaceful, actually. Knowing it truly is just you and him, it’s just enough.

⎯ General Shao

Like the other Outworlders, Valentine’s Day isn’t something Shao’s heard of. But when you explain it to him, it clicks. He’s not necessarily the most romantic, or free to indulge in the holiday. But he won’t pass up a good opportunity to spoil and pamper his lover. He kinda just gives you a handful of money and tells you to get something you like…

But he doesn’t just want to brush you off. That’s not what he’s doing. Safe to say, he has a hard time expressing affection considering his lifestyle and his title. And, unfortunately, being a general doesn’t exactly mean he gets that many days off. He makes it up to you in the evening, when he can finally squeeze in free time. It’s not extravagant, but it’s something. Nothing’s wrong with a little dancing, right? Especially under the stars?

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is all for it. In fact, he beats you to the punch. He’s a day early, but it’s kind of endearing to see him interested in Earthrealm traditions. Or perhaps there are ulterior motives… It’s hard to tell. Regardless, he’s super enthusiastic, and excited to share this day with you.

He’s gotten every little thing he’s heard about, a bouquet, a card, some candies. It’s odd seeing him essentially throw gifts at you, but he does really enjoy spending money. He overdoes every little gesture for you, dramatically opening the door, professing his love to you like every 3 minutes, the whole thing.

⎯ Reiko

The mention of V-Day comes up in passing, it’s not something you really talked to Reiko about. Initially, he doesn’t care. It’s another Earthrealm holiday that doesn’t matter that much to him. But when he hears you talk about all the gift giving and the fancy dates people take their significant others, he’s a little bit intrigued. Mainly because you seem so enthusiastic about it. And he wants to show off just how good of a partner he is.

He doesn’t make it some big show, he keeps it pretty simple. A couple flowers and a nice little night out in the markets. Sure, he could do more, but it’s his first Valentine’s Day, he’s doing great. He buys you anything you look at, no matter how small it is. Reiko would buy you dinner, too, but you two have pretty much eaten every little snack that was being sold at the market. At the end of the day, he doesn’t have the best grip on V-Day, but each year he does his best to make it better.

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noroi1000 · 10 months

Note

Gojo and reader are expecting a baby and started to playfully fight on what the baby's name should be! Fluff please!

Baby Name

Gojo x pregnant reader

Summary: Gojo comes up with names for your baby.

Words: 1k

"Toru, what are you doing there?" You asked as you felt your husband's head resting on your thighs and his forehead pressed against the bottom of your protruding belly.

You were lying on your back on the bed. You were letting your spine rest after a day of walking around with that little one in you.

Just like any baby in their mother's womb, your baby is calm if you do something. Then your body movements soothe the child inside you.

But when you want to rest, you feel it twist.

That's why you love the thought of having a husband for whom cuddling is very much needed in life because he likes touch.

More than once you have felt his fingers lightly squeeze your pregnant belly at night, rubbing your skin. Telling your child that everything is fine.

Then your child is calm, because it works like telekinesis, even if it's not there. Because the baby gives you rest for a while.

Instead of spinning around and making you constantly wander to the toilet.

You have decided to wait with the gender of your baby until birth.

As Satoru laughed when asked what his baby would be like, he replied that he didn't give spoilers.

However, it was getting closer and closer to the arrival of the 9th month.

You were already in the seventh.

You wish you already had a name for your child so that when he or she is born you will know how to speak.

You don't want to linger on the name for so long.

Probably Satoru too.

Because when he was lying on your thighs with his forehead on the bottom of your stomach, he was thinking about it.

"Satoru?"

"I think..." he muttered, looking at your belly as if he wanted to get an x-ray in his eyes and see the baby. Or he was looking for inspiration.

"You think what? Wouldn't you rather go to sleep?" You asked, feeling his head press closer against yours.

"How do we name the baby?" He said, placing his hand on your belly.

"Do you have any idea?"

You placed your hand on his. It was nice to feel his warm, big hands on your body.

Nice feeling. The warmth of his skin felt so nice.

"Mmmmm... Satoru junior..."

You laughed quietly.

"What if it's a girl?"

"Satori."

You laughed harder.

"Or (y/n) junior." He murmured, stroking your skin. "(y/n)ro."

You chuckled softly as you heard him trying to come up with a name for the baby.

It was cute and fun.

But you needed something else for your baby.

Something normal, but at the same time not the same as others. Not so common name.

Something rarer, but not such that everyone will wonder what that name is.

You just wanted your child, just like her/his daddy, to be special and one of a kind.

"Do you have any idea?" he asked, burying his nose into your skin. Making you laugh because of the tickling feeling.

"Why don't we pick something from the name lists?"

"How about Mochi?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Mochi?" you repeated.

"I love mochi! I love my baby even more! Boy Mochiro and girl Mochiko!"

You giggled as you heard his enthusiasm.

Mochiro and Mochiko? That sounds like normal names. But the fact that these names were based on one of the child's father's favorite sweets disqualifies these names.

If people knew that these names were created from the name "mochi", most would probably consider it abnormal.

But your husband just really likes sweets!

You were curious to see what else he would come up with.

That's why you've been waiting for more of his ideas.

"kikufuku?" He asked, resting the back of his head against your thighs as he stared at the ceiling.

"Baby's name?"

You weren't sure if he just got a kikufuku craving right now or if he was talking about baby names.

"You know... A name that starts with Kiku I Fuku. Together it's Kikufuku! Or Dango! No... Dango no. It sounds bad. Gojo Dango. Maybe Naruto? You know... Like those!"

"Naruto is an anime character." You laughed.

"I'll be a big fan of this anime if I name my child that... I don't want to... Well, how about... Pocky?"

"That sounds like a nickname."

"You're right..."

"It's a good thing you didn't propose to Wagashi."

"Can we eat?" He looked at you with a twinkle in his eye.

"It's night, Toru."

"Uggh... You gave me a taste for Wagashi..."

"Hold on until morning."

"I'll eat my little mochi!"

Suddenly, he playfully bit your thigh and belly, showing you what his mochi was.

"Don't eat me or our baby!"

"Name Dora or Yaki. Dorayaki!"

"Or something normal?" you asked nervously.

"Tako."

"Let me guess... Takoyaki?"

"Make me foody~... Baby..." he murmured, leaning up to meet your eyes.

"It's night. Satoru, I want to rest."

"Let's talk more about baby names!"

"Shall I name our baby by the name of the food?" You laughed and pulled up to push back on the bed.

He moved his head slightly to make room for your stomach.

Only now did you notice that he was lying on the bed with his legs sticking out of the mattress and his head was using your thighs as a pillow.

He smiled slightly and looked at you as you placed your hand on his forehead, stroking his soft hair with your fingers.

He stared at you with those beautiful eyes.

"Maybe Ao and Aka?"

"You want to call the children your Jujutsu techniques?"

"Better Ao and Aka than Murassaki. Hehe."

You slapped him lightly on the forehead for his laugh.

He closed his eyes with a toothy grin and reached his hand for yours, touching your skin as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Don't do this to our children."

"Children? So you want more than one?"

He gave you that trademark smile that would be very irritating if you didn't love him.

Oh yes... If you want to be pregnant more times in your life... He'll do it for you. And he'll love to look at you and keep coming up with a name for your next baby.

#jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #Gojo x pregnant reader #gojo x you #pregnancy

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wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Mother Knows Best

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk. Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club. Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶

"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.

Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.

"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.

"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.

"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"

"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.

"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."

"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.

“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.

"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"

“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”

“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.

“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”

He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.

******

You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.

Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.

Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.

Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.

There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.

You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.

He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.

“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”

You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."

"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."

"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.

Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.

He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.

"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."

It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.

The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"

“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”

"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."

“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”

"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.

“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”

"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."

He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”

Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."

“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”

"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."

“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”

“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”

“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.

“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”

“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”

“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”

“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”

“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”

“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”

“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”

“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”

He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”

“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.

“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.

“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.

"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."

He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.

"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"

“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.

“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”

“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”

“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.

“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”

“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”

“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.

“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”

“It’s like not liking classic movies.” He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”

“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”

“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”

“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”

“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”

“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”

“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”

“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.

“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”

“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”

“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”

“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”

“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”

“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”

“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”

“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”

“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.

"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."

Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”

"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.

“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.

"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."

“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”

“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.

“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”

The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”

“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”

"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"

“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.

Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"

There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”

He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”

“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.

“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”

“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”

******

“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”

“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.

“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”

“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.

“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”

Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.

“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.

“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”

“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.

“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”

“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”

“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.

******

“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”

“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”

“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”

“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.

“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”

“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”

“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”

“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”

Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”

“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”

“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.

“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”

“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”

Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.

It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."

He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”

"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."

“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”

"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."

“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”

"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."

“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.

It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?

When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.

You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.

“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”

"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."

“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.

"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.

“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”

He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.

“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.

"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."

He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”

The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.

Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”

"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."

“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.

"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"

“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”

"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.

Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.

"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.

“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”

"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"

“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.

"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."

At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.

It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."

“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”

"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."

“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.

“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.

He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.

“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”

“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”

“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”

He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”

“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.

“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.

"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.

"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.

"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."

"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.

"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."

"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."

"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."

"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.

"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."

"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."

"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.

"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.

"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."

"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”

"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."

“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.

"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.

“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”

"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."

“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.

"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."

“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.

"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.

It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"

He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”

"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."

“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.

He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."

“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.

He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.

Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.

“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”

“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.

“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”

“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.

“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”

“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”

“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”

“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”

“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.

“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”

“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.

When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.

“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.

“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”

“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.

“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.

“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.

“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”

“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.

“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.

It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.

“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.

“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.

“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”

He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.

“Not at all.” In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”

“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.

Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.

It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.

For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.

"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.

“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.

“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.

“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.

“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.

“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”

Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.

It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.

He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.

“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.

Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.

“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”

There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”

“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”

Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”

“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.

“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.

It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.

It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.

"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.

“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.

"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."

“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”

The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.

His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.

Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.

Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.

Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.

The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”

“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.

He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.

The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.

"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.

“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.

“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”

Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.

“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.

"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.

He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.

It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.

Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.

The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.

Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.

"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.

"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"

It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.

He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.

The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.

Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.

"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.

"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."

"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.

“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.

He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.

“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.

He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.

Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.

Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.

"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.

"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"

"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.

"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.

That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?

"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.

"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.

Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.

Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.

Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.

"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."

“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”

"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."

You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”

He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.

Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.

His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.

“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."

“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”

"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."

That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.

Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.

The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.

His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.

Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.

Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.

“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”

Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.

It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.

Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.

“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”

The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”

The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.

"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.

Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”

"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"

The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.

He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.

“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.

He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."

“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”

It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."

You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”

"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."

“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”

"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"

“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”

He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."

"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.

"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"

"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.

"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"

"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."

"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."

"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.

He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.

______

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