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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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redr0sewrites · 3 months ago

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💫A/n: just some general pv x reader hcs. sorry ive been in such a writing slump ://

💫Cw: fluff + smut, praise, use of pet names, minors dni w the nsfw portion

💫 dividers

sfw:

Pure Vanilla is one of the best partners you could ever ask for in my mind

he's very attentive and an incredible listener, while also being so smart and gentle

if you're dating him, you definitely feel cherished. no matter how busy he is, and he is often busy, Pure Vanilla always makes time for you and puts in effort

he dotes on you a LOT!! he is always offering to help you, even at his own expense, and never wants to see you upset. he's a great person to ask for advice, and is endlessly supportive because of these qualities as well

he's very forgiving, and big on commitment and communication. you don't argue much, and even when you do, he's never the type to make you feel as though he doesn't respect you- that doesn't mean you don't argue though, as communication is very veryyyy important to him

i also think that Pure Vanilla, if he's in a relationship with you or even if you're just one of his close friends has a very heavy bias towards you. like if you're arguing with someone else, he would never ever publicly disagree with you and would support you 100%. if he genuinely disagrees with you he'd tell you kindly in private, but he's not the type to cause unnecessary drama for others to see, and wants to make sure that you know he's always on your side.

as positive and kind as he is, i do think that Pure Vanilla cookie has a bit of a self negativity streak in the sense that he can be a huge people pleaser. as his partner, you're one of the few people (cookies?) who gets to witness his more insecure and negative side. he tends to blame himself a lot for simple mistakes or problems that were entirely out of his control, and this can definitely apply to a relationship as well

unsurprisingly, he's very touch starved, and while not unwilling to admit it, he struggles to come to terms with it per se. i think Pure Vanilla would subconsciously be aware that he craves affection, but just doesn't know how to verbalize it as he doesn't want to force his feelings onto you

in tandem with this, i think he lovesss when you play with his hair! he loves that unbridled, gentle sort of affection, and melts whenever your hands go to run through his hair or massage his scalp. this is also a very specific personal headcanon, but i think Pure Vanilla would give the best gentle massages. he's an amazing healer, so you already know that transfers into your relationship, and having the opportunity to relieve the tension from your body is sooo satisfying to him. obviously not in a sexual way, he just wants you to be comfortable and loves helping you in any way he can

enjoys peaceful dates where he just gets to spend time with you!! Pure Vanilla cookie doesn't need anything thrilling to keep him occupied, and is absolutely fine just staying home with you for the evening and reading side by side, cuddling, or just enjoying each other's presence. if you are interested in thrilling dates, like amusement parks or scary movies, he's happy to indulge you, but he absolutely prefers the quiet, simple moments with you that are just so much more affectionate to him

nsfw:

Pure Vanilla cookie is absolutely a switch in my mind. it truly depends on your preferences, as he's down to be sub or dom or whatever works for you. i think he slightly prefers to bottom in terms of position simply because its less pressure for him (especially due to his eyesight conditions and his worries about not pleasuring you,,,, ☹️) but also won't reject topping. again, it really depends on his and your moods

i do think there are times where if you push his buttons enough he does have the capacity to be a pretty hard dom, but most of the time he's quite gentle! he's heavy on praise and reassurance, both giving and receiving, as he wants to make sure that everything he's doing is pleasing to you.

Pure Vanilla's favorite position in my mind would be the lotus flower position, where he basically just gets to be as close to you as possible. he has a penchant for just melting into your embrace and burying his head into your neck with a wordless whine, especially when he's overstimulated, and this position more than allows for that. however, i do also think he'd enjoy a spooning position where you're both laying on your side and he or you can just hold the other back-to-chest and have sex like that, but this position is more reserved for sleepy mornings and quicker sessions before bed.

no matter your genitals, Pure Vanilla would Love. to go down on you. he's absolutely a munch, and loves pleasuring you in this way and watching you absolutely fall apart. theres nothing more satisfying to him than wringing orgasms after orgasm out of you until your whimpering and whining, and all the while he's squirming and humping the bed while waiting for his own release. something about the eroticism of oral to him just makes him go crazy

when it comes to kinks, at first he's pretty .... vanilla.... (haha.... get it. im sorry) but i think over time he'd reveal his more serious kinks and perversions. he's also down to experiment with anything you're into, as you're his first priority in bed. however, i do think Pure Vanilla would be against anything that could seriously hurt you. he would worry too much, and doesn't like seeing you in extreme pain. in contrast to this though, i do think he would enjoy seeing you become an absolute wreck from overstimulation or edging (especially if this is Truthless Recluse we're talking about,,,, but those are headcanons for another time i fear)

when it comes to general kinks, he has a lot, and you're gonna have to bare with me through some of these explanations. starting off pretty obvious, i'd say praise and just like pampering in general during sex is a pretty big one for him. he loves seeing you flustered, but also enjoys being praised or overwhelmed with pleasure in return. next up, i don't know if this really counts as a kink but like,,, hand holding is super important to him, he loves being close to you. hair pulling, specifically receiving, is HUGE for him. i'm just picturing Pure Vanilla being all soft and gentle during sex, but then the second you pull his hair he's a quivering mess !!

next up, parallel play and just. mutual masturbation in general. he often fantasizes about you walking in on him masturbating and vice verse, and it's just very attractive to him to learn what makes you tick. also kinda similar to this but i think he'd secretly be into being humiliated a bit. i don't think Pure Vanilla would ever admit it, but if you started teasing him about how loud he's moaning or how pathetic he is he'd cum on the spot. he's always trying his best to please others, and so you taking that a step further and getting him all embarrassed really turns him on.

while these are all pretty tame, i do think that Pure Vanilla has some more secretive and embarrassing sexual desires that he absolutely feels ashamed of- and also turn him on more than anything else. i might make some seperate headcanons for what i think his more perverse interests are, but overall i don't think he'd share his fantasies with his partner until you both are very close and very intimate. however, if you're freakier than him and give him the opportunity to share his desires ..... well. that's also quite attractive to him, yk?

overall, i think he's a very sweet lover when it comes to sex, and can accommodate anything you ask, whether it be as tame or as freaky as you prefer !!

thanks for reading !! i haven't written in a hot minute and i feel like it shows <\3 my life has been kinda weird and stressful rn but im trying my best to get back into writing !!! ALSO PLEASEEE SEND IN CRK OR PRESSURE (roblox) ASKS 😞🙏

#crk x reader #crk x you #crk x y/n #crk smut #crk headcanons #cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla smut #pure vanilla cookie x reader #pure vanilla crk #pure vanilla x you #pure vanilla imagine #crk imagine #crk fluff #crk fanfic

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lorelune · 1 month ago

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rabbit hearted

|| michael kaiser x reader || E/18+ || a wolf and a rabbit || wc: 6.6k || ao3 ||

After a game, during a much-needed night at the bar, Bastard München muses on what animal each player embodies. The answer that the team decides on for you is rather unfortunate. And even more unfortunate is that Kaiser takes such a liking to your assignment.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: wow. wrote this in an afternoon in a complete, lust-filled haze. michael kaiser the things you do to me. this is truly just smut. insane smut with a relatively mean kaiser who is soft, somewhere in there. god help you and reader. enjoy loves 🩷

CWs: player reader, nonbinary reader with afab anatomy, reader referred to with they/them pronouns, clit/dick are used interchangeably for reader, dubcon (kinda), minor Oliver/reader, reader smokes and drinks, predator/prey (lightly), degradation (no derogatory terms used), squirting, PIV sex, kaiser is mean

It starts during a normal night of drinking.

You're out with the team— you usually abstain, but tonight feels different. After a hard-earned win, Bastard München is squirrely and more lively than normal. You can feel the electric energy in the air as the lot of you settle into your favored bar.

Kaiser is, as usual, at the epicenter with you against his side.

Kaiser doesn't drink often— the smell of ale and liquor bothers him usually. But when he does, he's a bit of a lightweight.

Tonight, Kaiser nurses his third stein with flushed cheeks. He'd taken a shot of smooth vodka with you earlier, too.

You don't fare much better than him, listing into his side after your first few drinks. He's warm, and the German winter that swirls outside is so, so cold. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing mindless circles over your jacket.

It's Gagamaru, the usually quiet goalie, who presents the question that fundamentally alters your evening.

"If you were an animal," he slurs, "Which one would you be?"

The table chatters immediately; Kaiser is silent above you.

"Ness would be a dog," Isagi, another lightweight, who has spent the last ten minutes with his head lowered to the table, says. "That one’s easy."

"Don’t say it like that," Ness whines from your other side, squirming. Isagi isn't wrong and everyone at the table knows that. Someone claps Ness on his back.

"Kurona... a shark," you yawn. "like one of those nurse ones, that's nice and likes to be petted."

The table busts out in laughter, but no one disagrees. Kurona simply takes a sip of his drink, nodding amicably twice.

It’s decided that Isagi is a panther, Hiori is a leopard seal, and Gesner is a dingo. Grim is a falcon.

"What would you be, Kaiser?" It's Yukimiya who asks. He’s a heavyweight, surprisingly, who has drunk more than the rest of the table but looks perfectly put together, still. Fucking rude.

Kaiser, who has remained notably silent the entire conversation, hums. Contemplative in a way that makes your stomach swoop. A quiet Kaiser is a dangerous Kaiser.

"A wolf, probably." he leans back in the booth. "Or a big cat."

"like a lion?" Isagi slurs. He needs water badly, you think. You wish you were within yourself enough to fetch some for him. “You’re way more of a wolf.”

"Sure, yeah." Kaiser smiles, all gleaming teeth. He does look like a predator like this, you think. Especially with how you’ve, somehow, become nestled against his shoulder, beneath him, keenly aware of his canines and their sharp points. It’s been almost a week since your last fuck, and therefore the marks he'd left during your last bedding have all but faded, but the knowledge of the damage they can inflict is still there.

You still remember the feeling of them. The way Kaiser sometimes draws blood and looks pleased about it.

"What about me?" you ask, shifting closer. Kaiser’s arm loops lower, going around your waist. His body is filled with curled tension.

Kaiser looks down at you, still smiling. It makes your stomach drop all over again. His fingers dig into your ribs and a small sound bubbles up your throat, against your will. It’s a frail, warbling sound. The bar is loud enough that only Kaiser and you can hear it, but it still makes your cheeks hot all the same.

When you attempt to duck and hide your face in the fabric of his shirt, Kaiser winds his hand into the hair at the base of your skull and tugs. It keeps your face up; he won't allow you to hide.

"I think," Kaiser licks his teeth, tilting his head. The long, azure tails of his hair fall off his shoulder. "You’re just a little rabbit."

What the fuck.

"... A bunny?" you ask, incredulous. You're not a fucking rabbit.

"Mhm," Kaiser pulls your hair again. "Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely not," you snap, embarrassed. Everyone at the table gets something of a predatory animal and you get shafted with a fucking bunny?! "Take it back."

"Nope." Kaiser pops the 'p' and pats your head with a little too much force. Your brain rattles around in your skull. "You're just a little bunny rabbit at the end of the day."

"No, I am not—!"

"I have to agree," Hiori says. The traitor, with his own sharp glint in his gaze, sighs dreamily. "Aren't ya' a lucky one, Kaiser."

"Don’t say it like that." you stutter over your words. "I'm not—!"

"Nah, you are," it's Gesner, this time, nodding and crossing his arms over his chest. "You run around like one too."

"Um," Ness says from beside you. "You a-are a bit like a rabbit, don't you think?"

"You’re cute like one too." Kaiser pinches your cheeks and shakes your head with his grip.

"No," you refuse again, drawing back from your wolfish tormentor. "Nuh-uh, nope, never. I'm leaving. Bye."

"See!" Gesner laughs. "Running off, just like a cornered rabbit!"

"I hate all of you." You snap, crawling over Ness and Kurona without a care in the world. You need to get out of this fucking booth—

Kaiser grabs your ankle and yanks.

It puts you off balance, and you fall into Ness’s lap. Like, fully. Face pressed between his legs.

You both squeak.

"Fuck off—!" You kick Kaiser in the gut, who doubles over, and you scramble from the booth.

You sway as you right yourself, stumbling through the crowded bar.

You're not a fucking bunny.

...

You end up outside, having bummed a cigarette from a beautiful woman who lit it for you. It balms your ego instantly, and the nicotine buzzing in your skull makes your humiliating animal assignment seem less important.

You consider going home. Your apartment is within walking distance, but it is cold. You could take a taxi and put yourself on ‘do not disturb’ so you don't have to deal with any of the inevitable teasing texts from your teammates.

And, it would allow you to ignore Kaiser.

You know him well. Well enough that the idea of you being a cute bunny rabbit is going to have you and your cunt infirmed for some amount of time if he is left to his own devices. Locking your door— no, barricading your door, because that fucker has a key to your apartment somehow, is your best option to save the health and safety of your dick.

You exhale a cloud of smoke that gets carried away by the biting wind. You shiver.

"Look at this," A voice comes from down the road. You grimace. You’d know that rolling, low drawl anywhere.

Uber’s Oliver Aiku— for fuck's sake— you cannot catch a break. You should've figured that he and the rest of his team would appear, given Bastard München beat them earlier in the day. They walk in a gaggle toward the bar with Oliver at the helm.

"Hey," You take another drag, remaining casual because you value your sanity. "All of Bastard is in there. I'd turn back if you want to keep the peace and avoid a bar fight."

"Aw," Oliver clicks his tongue as he nears; the team is already filtering inside. their funeral. "Don’t think we can handle it?"

"Not at all." You shake your head with a sigh.

Oliver hums and stays outside, sidling up next to you and taking his own pack of cigarettes out. He lights up beside you and exhales his first puff with a sigh.

"Where's your keeper?" Oliver asks.

"Inside.” You huff. "And— he's not my fucking keeper."

"Yet, you knew exactly who I meant."

"Because I have common sense— and I know how... we are perceived."

"And is that perception... not entirely correct?"

"We’re just fucking." You take another drag. This cigarette is burning way too long, dammit. You should've hailed a taxi. "That's all."

"You exclusive?"

"You're a dog." You spit, hoping there's enough venom behind your words to keep him at bay. "And... we haven't spoken about it."

"How interesting." Oliver slides a little closer.

You move a step away. "Keep your distance. He bites."

"Excuse me for trespassing." Oliver holds his cigarette between his lips and holds his hands up in what feels like a false surrender. "And for pursuing a fling."

"There are other prospects."

"Certainly." Oliver cocks his head to the bar behind him that has absolutely gotten louder since Ubers entered. "But you've banned me from your favored pub."

"Out of concern for your safety."

"So, you care about me then?"

"Twisting my words..." You laugh and throw your cigarette on the ground. You stamp it out with the bottom of your shoe. "Go in, I don't care. Find another body."

"Ouch." Oliver laughs, running a hand through his hair. His gaze is warm and piercing all at once.

You begin to walk away, in the direction of your apartment, when the door to the bar swings open rather dramatically.

Fuck— you took too long. You walk a little faster, you have to—

"There you are," It's Kaiser because, of course, it is. He grabs your shoulder and yanks you back. He wraps himself around you from behind, his blue-tipped bangs tickling your cheek. You refuse to look at him and see the glare that he's undoubtedly shooting at Oliver. Kaiser presses his lips to your cheek. "I thought I lost you."

"Piss off. I'm going home."

"Without me?"

"Yes." You try to pull away from him, but Kaiser is so much stronger than he looks (and he doesn’t look weak to begin with). He keeps you in place with an arm looped around your waist.

Oliver watches you both with blown pupils.

"'Just fucking', huh?" Oliver laughs then, low and forbidding.

Kaiser goes stiff behind you. You're fucked.

"Is that what they said?" Kaiser says next to your ear. You pull away harder, more frantically, but he doesn't yield.

"Yup, and it's the truth!" You say, far too chipper. "Now, let me go, so I can go home, drink some water, and go to bed."

"Nope." Kaiser cuts you off. "Not alone, little rabbit."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure," Kaiser smiles against your cheek, wolfish and unrelenting.

He drags you away, Oliver chuckling at the door of the bar. You despise them both.

...

Kaiser has you pressed against the door to your apartment (which he unlocked with that stupid key of his— you really should take that away from him—) the moment you enter. You're pressed, front flush to the wood with your cheek pressed to the side. Kaiser is leering at you like a wolf, like a big cat that needs you as a meal.

You gulp.

"You should know better," He practically croons. He's pressed against your back, already hard against your ass. "But, I suppose that I shouldn't expect all that much intellect out of a little bunny, should I?"

"Piss off." your voice barely squeezes out.

Kaiser's hands slip to your front, undoing the button of your pants and the zipper of your fly. You squirm.

"No," You tell him, "No, no, don't, wait—"

"I was very patient at the bar," Kaiser noses into your cheek. "I wanted to fuck you in the bathroom there, you know. I could've made sure the whole team knows whose you are."

"I think they already— do—!" Your voice arcs as he bites down on your neck, on an old, yellowing bruise he left the last time he had you like this.

"Do they?" Kaiser sucks at the skin, blooming a mark there, surely. "That Uber's defender seemed pretty keen on you."

"He's a whore."

"And you're mine." Kaiser tugs you by your hair, forcing your neck into a painful curve.

His gaze is cutting. All sharp edges and blue thorns. You've offended him, somehow, by doing nothing. Now you'll reap what you've sewn.

(Part of you, the part that, perhaps, is more rabbit-like than the rest of you, knew that this is where you'd end up. It wanted this. Wanted to feel squeezed and pressed and small like a little prey animal at the hands of a man who can't be described as anything less than a canid predator.)

Kaiser’s hand dips into the front of your panties, the stupid cotton kind you try to avoid wearing when you know you're going to be fucked.

"Oh look," Kaiser says, sing-song, "You're soaked."

"Fuck— you—!" You kick back at him.

"A little bunny is so predictable," Kaiser sighs, wistful, rolling the pearl of your clit. "You just need to be fucked, don't you?"

"No—"

"Don’t lie," Kaiser shoves your pants down to your thighs. "You’re not very good at it, anyway."

"I hate you—"

"Keep lying and I'll make this worse for you." Kaiser reminds.

It's always like this. The push and pull, the tugging, and the resistance. You both get off on it. You feel dizzy with arousal, with shame, with pent-up rage and indigence.

A sound bubbles up from your throat as he spins you. Still against the door, with your back to it now. Your panties are hardly covering your cunt down, the thatch of hair around it peeking out.

And your wolf drops to his knees with a hungry smile. He pulls off your pants and presses his lips to the wet spot on your panties.

"These are cute," he hums. They are, there's a little bow in the middle, periwinkle, with light lace around the thighs. "All for me?"

"N—No—"

"Lying, lying, lying, little rabbit."

He licks a stripe over your cunt, over the soaked cotton. Your hips jolt, and he presses them into the door.

It's rude how he does this. How he undoes you so easily, how he picks you apart like a wolf tearing the flesh from the ribs of its meal.

He pulls your panties down and feasts.

It's too much, immediately. Kaiser does nothing in halves and sucking your dick applies to that. He sucks your clit into his mouth, kneading your hips as you gasp and writhe.

He moans when you kick him and doubles down.

He laps at you, breaking you down so easily. A finger presses against your entrance and you whine, hips jolting down toward the pressure. Your legs feel weak, with arousal and the leftover exertion of the day’s game.

"Wait— wait—" Your voice breaks. "I’m going to fall—"

Kaiser hefts one of your legs onto his shoulder but does not slow. Doesn't break his tempo while his head bobs up and down. You fist a hand in his hair and pull. He moans against you and the vibration goes straight to your dick.

You cum incredibly quickly. Embarrassingly so, and your one unsupported leg shakes so hard that it does, indeed, collapse. Kaiser barely catches you, still licking at your cunt through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He lowers you to the floor as your chest heaves.

You struggle to catch your breath as Kaiser grins at you. Your slick coats around his mouth, down his chin.

"What? He tilts his head. "Nothing to say now?"

"You’re the w-worse."

"At least you're not lying, now." And he kisses you, fiercely.

It’s the kind of contact that is meant to break and snap bone. The wet-fingered hand that had been massaging your insides grabs your jaw with enough force to bruise. All you can do is take it. All you can do is swallow down his moans while he takes yours. All you can do is shake and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

A warbling sound breaks from your throat.

He pulls away with a gleam in his eye. The night has hardly started and you already feel— wrung out, small. Aching.

Kaiser, for all of his dramatics and teeth, kisses your forehead with a surprising amount of tenderness. You ignore the stinging behind your eyes.

...

Kaiser is kind enough to bring you to bed, thankfully.

During some of your trysts, he'll simply take you over the arm of your couch or the small dining table tucked away by your kitchen.

Today, however, he drops you on top of your bed. You bounce as he does. You sniffle, dragging yourself up to the headboard.

"Running, just like a rabbit." Kaiser pulls off his shirt. "You’re not making a good case for yourself, bunny."

"Don’t c-call me that."

"Shouldn’t I?" he moves so quickly, suddenly braced over you, with a hand in between your legs. "It turns you on so much when I do."

You hate that he's right. You hate that— being in his jaws makes you so weak. You turn your head to the side, away from him. Kaiser acquiesces, kissing down your throat that you've bared to him. He nips and sucks as he does. Raised bite marks following in his wake, surely. You can't stifle your sounds as he does. Your legs kick and your heels press into the bed, but it doesn't slow or stop him.

"You’re so wet," Kaiser rolls your clit with his thumb. "I bet you'd take my cock so well, without any prep even."

Alarm bells go off in your head, the hard line of Kaiser's cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, burns against your thigh.

"No, no, please—" Kaiser is not small. He has a frustratingly large and thick cock (pretty, too), and taking without being stretched first aches for days.

He hushes you with a kiss on your cheek. "I'll be nice today, hm? Even if you don’t deserve it."

"You're n-never nice."

"Another truth," he sighs, wistful. "You’re getting better."

You hate him so fucking much.

It’s unfair, how easily he slips a finger into you. Then, so quickly, another, pressing and curling in just the right spot. For 'just fucking', Kaiser knows your body far too well. He is so keen to the spots that undo you. You barely hold back tears as he massages the most tender spot inside you.

He kisses you as he does. It’s consuming, the way his tongue delves into your mouth. He licks your tongue, at the back of your teeth, and sucks your tongue into your mouth. When he withdraws, a line of spit connects you both. It breaks and slaps against your chin.

"You look so pretty when you're messy.” He pats your cheek with too much force, curling his fingers just right.

"If—" You can barely find your voice. "If you make me c-come again— you can't—"

"Oh, I can—"

"Don't—" you won't be able to take it, you're certain. No matter how empty and barren your insides feel, even with his fingers in you, you can't take anymore. You feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

"Please, please, please—"

"What are you begging for?" Kaiser kisses your cheek again like a lover would. "More or less? I can't tell."

You think less, but you don't know.

He slips a third finger inside you. You cry out, wrapping a leg around him, over his back. It’s an answer enough.

“All that talk,” he pushes your shirt up. “And still so needy.”

Before you can reply, Kaiser has his lips around one of the stiff peaks of your nipples. A sound shatters out of you as he sucks. Bites, even, gnawing on you like a piece of meat. It’s sensitive, it’s too fucking much, and yet you can kick him away anymore. You fist a hand in your own hair.

He spreads his fingers inside you, switching to the other side of your chest.

Kaiser leaves marks as he does. Your chest, marked. Your throat, marred. Everyone in the locker room will see, and that’s his intention, probably. You’ll be embarrassed— you are embarrassed— but you can’t make yourself stop him.

(Oh, you want his mark on you. You want to be more than fucking, you want to be in his maw, his teeth in you— fuck, fuck, fuck—)

He pulls away, taking your shirt with him.

Kaiser looms above you, grinning, teeth gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. You swallow, audibly, and he laughs in the same way a wolf does. Low and forbidding, a promise of a massacre tucked in his throat.

He peels off his boxers and his cock springs free.

If you were more within yourself, less lost in pleasure-pain, you would make some quip about how he is wet too. Pre staining the front of the boxers, wetting the red head of his cock. He’s like that— messy. Eager in his own way, dripping before you’ve even really touched him at all.

You jolt up, unsteady, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping. He hisses and grabs your wrist, but doesn’t stop your motion. Instead, his mouth falls open, pretty lips parting as you stroke him. He’s already fully hard, painfully so it looks like, but he doesn’t make you stop. If you were teasing, he probably would, but you’re not.

You’re just pleasure drunk, bent within your desire.

“Fuck—” he grits out, guiding your holding a little tight on his cock. His pre drips, splattering against your navel. You jolt with the feel of it, whining.

“How—” you swallow again. “How d-do you want me?”

You watch his brain stall.

Kaiser is an interesting creature. Part of him craves the chase, the capture, the stealing of something for himself. Your pleasure and forced submission are two of those things, you’ve found. Those desires of his are transparent.

There’s another part that wants something stickier. That wants something... you wouldn’t say kinder, but more intimate maybe. Closeness, in all its parts.

It depends on his mood, how he starts fucking you. But it usually ends the same.

Kaiser doesn’t answer you verbally, he instead grabs you by the hips and flips you, so you’re tummy down against the duvet. He roughly grabs your hips, raising them so your back is in a cruel arch.

“I want to mount you,” he says, voice rough and lilting. “Like any wolf would want a rabbit, yeah?”

You kick at him blindly, “I’m not—”

“But you are—” Kaiser reminds you, a hand bracing on the back of your neck, pressing you down into the sheets. “And you were doing so well, knowing that. And even still—”

His breath is scalding against your nape.

“I’m a wolf, remember?” Kaiser's teeth nip against the skin and muscle of your trap. “Whether you’re a little bunny or not, I’d want you like this.”

You don’t get to speak; your words are stolen by the press of his wet cock against your cunt.

A sound tears from you as he breaches. It’s a tight fit, even though you’re dripping and he had three fingers in you moments ago. The stretch is a burning thing, hot, so hot. It hurts, but the good kind of hurt you relish. Every centimeter Kaiser pushes into you feels like agony and relief in tandem with one another.

By the time he’s fully seated, pelvis flush to your ass, your breath is catching. Too fast, too shallow, too withered.

“Deep breaths,” he whispers into your ear with a kiss over the sensitive shell of it. His weight is still beared on your neck. “Slow ones.”

“F-Fuck you—”

“I could move now, you know,” Kaiser adjusts his hips, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, entirely too deep. “I’d make you pass out if I did that, wouldn’t I? I said I’m being nice, so breathe.”

You whine and close your eyes, counting your breaths, matching Kaiser’s, his own ragged by better-paced than your own. The brittle quality of your own settles a little, though a hiccuping sound emerges too.

“Are you crying?” Kaiser asks, half-incredulous and half-struck. “So early for tears.”

“Is’ the liquor—” You slur out.

“Liar,” Kaiser withdraws, so only the tip of his cock remains inside you. “Liar, liar, liar—”

With each word, he thrusts in and out of you. Deep and fast, bruising your insides without care for how you scramble for purchase below him. A twinge burrows itself in your neck with the pressure.

You wish you had words in you, but Kaiser fucks them out of you without pause. Without yield. All you can do is grab the duvet and take it.

His pace isn’t rapid, it’s measured. It’s meant to undo. Each wet slap against your cunt is tactical on his part. Each groan he lays into your ear serves the purpose of flaying you. You’re a meal for him; you’re being eaten.

He starts babbling as his pace speeds up.

“J-Just a fucking bunny,” he spits. “Just a stupid fucking bunny who doesn’t know what’s good for them, yeah? Should’ve watched your mouth.”

Any reply you could have leaks out of you in the drool that pools out of your mouth, wetting the fabric beneath your cheek.

“Good thing you have me,” Kaiser moans into your throat, sinking his teeth into you. “I know what you need, even if nothing in that pretty head of yours does. You k-know that, yeah? You know you’re mine?”

Ah, there it is.

Kaiser wants something that is his. Something he has to take.

He’s taken your body in so many ways, parts of your heart too, which is far scarier to acknowledge. For how much yearning is built up in that man’s body, he is horrible at expressing it in any sane fashion.

Only like this, with you taking everything he gives, can he let those desires loose. Only then can Kaiser really yearn with the full breadth of his chest, with the full weight of his body against yours.

“Yours.” Is all you can get out.

(Oliver, that fucker, was right. ‘Just fucking’, your ass.)

Kaiser moans, high and sweet in a way that you’re certain only you have had the privilege of hearing. He pulls out for only a moment to flip you around. Your legs instinctually come up around his hips, ankles locking at his lower back. His cock lays over your navel, over the softness of your tummy. It’s— obscene to look at. How deep inside you he can reach.

He clasps his hands with yours, intertwining his fingers with your own as he pushes inside you again.

The angle is different— each thrust has the head of Kaiser’s cock nudging your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that your stomach is bare, slick with the remnants of your slick and Kaiser’s pre. You feel exposed, like a belly-up prey animal that can’t hide from the wet jaws of a much larger, much more dangerous animal.

It doesn’t help that Kaiser is leering from above you, smiling, sweat beading on his brow, and slicking the blonde and blue hair around his face down against his cheeks. He looks just as debauched as you, maybe.

You squeeze his hand in your own, and he moans. Dirty and filthy, fucking into you harder, deeper. He tilts his hips to raise your own, the angle making blood rush into your skull.

Tears, the overwhelmed kind, drip from your eyes.

It makes him slow, just barely, and flatten his body to yours. He licks them away like he so enjoys doing when he forces you down small enough to get you teary and lost.

“Shhh,” he shushes into your cheeks, lapping like a hot-mouthed canine. “You’re taking me so well— why are you crying? Is the little rabbit scared?”

“No, no—”

“Sure, sure,” Kaiser laughs, cruel and loving all at once. “So scared of a big, bad wolf, right?”

“No—”

Are you scared?

Maybe.

You’re scared of how Kaiser makes you feel in these moments.

On the field, he’s all hard metal and marble. Something entirely broken and reforged, stone-hard and indomitable. Endless in his prowess, terrifying in his ferocity. On more than one occasion, you’ve been explicitly thankful to be on his team, rather than facing him. The way he breaks others down simply through his own play is terrifying to watch. You aid him, as any good midfielder would do, but it’s not you who is tearing apart your opponents.

That’s all Kaiser.

But that’s less fear— more awe, some respect, and some... eye-rolling. God, the man has a flair for the dramatic when he gets into it.

The fear comes from these moments. It comes from when you were so easily wrapped around him at the bar.

The depth of Michael Kaiser’s feelings is endless. Black and lightless, like the deep sea, there’s no bottom to it. It’s the kind of lucid knowledge that Kaiser will consume you with his yearning, his voracity, his urge to take and eat his fill, and then some. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Kaiser has lived most of his life hungry, and now that he has access to ample food, he will never allow himself to go hungry again.

It’s unfortunate that you are his— morsel. Prey. Meal. So often.

It scares you, the look on his face now as his pace increases. As all of his attention truly zeroes in on you. The smile on his face, the knowingness of how he looks at you. The way he eats your pleasure and intends to gorge himself on his own.

(At how— he so clearly wants more. No one unaffected would need to hold your hands to come like he does. Kaiser doesn’t know how to want and yearn in any way that is normal. Only when you’re both stripped down, you, humiliated, and Kaiser fully riding the high of humiliating you, can you both be honest.)

“Please—” You say, desperate.

Kaiser doesn’t tease or ask what you mean, now. He just fucks you harder.

It hurts— your insides. You’ll be bruised and you want to be bruised. You bend up into him as he does, as he chases his own want and desire through the outlet of your body. Your cunt squeezes around him and he curses under your breath.

His pace falters, just barely, and you know he’s close.

“Kiss—?” You ask, broken all over, and Kaiser does just that.

His sounds get lighter and airier as he gets closer to his own peak. You feel the way his muscles are bound tight. The bed frame hits the wall with each thrust. The wet slap of flesh-on-flesh lights staccato breaths in your chest.

You babble out pleas, for more, for more—

He chases his high, eyes locked onto yours, hands squeezing your own on either side of your head. His rhythm breaks as he groans, pressing deeper, so fucking deep, and he fills you up.

The gush of warmth in you has you gasping, kicking at his back. It feels like so fucking much as he fucks his spent into you, not stopping his thrusts until he’s empty and softening. His chest glistens as he pulls away, cock slipping out of you with a rush of cum. It drips out of you. It must be obscene because Kaiser practically has hearts in his eyes as he pushes his release back inside of you with two shaking fingers.

His gaze shifts from your cunt to you. Then, he scowls.

The moment is gone, it seems.

Something odd and hollow enters your chest. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. It gets worse as Kaiser climbs off the bed, finding his boxer briefs and pulling them back on.

(He’s— he’s usually clingy after sex. He needs to be cuddled and held, but will never ask for it. Though, sometimes he does this, runs off when things get too raw and truly real.)

He exits the room wordlessly and you sigh.

You feel— sober enough. You want to cum and your insides are still vibrating and aching. Your hand slips between your wet thighs.

A little aborted sound slips out of you as you scissor two fingers around your cock. It’s swollen, your whole cunt is puffy and aching from the treatment Kaiser inflicted upon it. You feel like all of the blood in your body is centered around your core; it won’t be hard to finish.

You throw your head back against the bed, feeling too empty even with Kaiser’s spent inside of you.

“What are you doing?”

You hadn’t realized Kaiser had reentered the room.

He looks— handsome, unfortunately. Ruffled and sweaty from sex, and it’s a good look on him. There are a few bite marks on his neck, ones you didn’t even realize you left. His hair is frizzed up from the generated humidity.

“Getting off,” your voice breaks when you speak. “Leave, if that’s what you want.”

There’s a stillness in the room. Tension that appears so quickly and thickly, that you can almost see it.

Kaiser glares at you like he intends to kill you. It’s the same look he gives Ness when the other whiffs a pass during practice. It’s the same one he gives Isagi when he outdoes Kaiser. It’s an identical look to the one he gives you when you leave the locker room without him.

Kaiser’s clamoring back on the bed before you have time to think. Your hand is ripped away from your cunt and replaced by his own.

“Did you really think— I’d leave you on your own like this?”

“Yes—?”

“I must’ve fucked you stupid, then.” Kaiser spits, literally spits, onto your cunt. You flinch. “Or maybe, you just don’t think at all. That sounds plenty logical too.”

“You’re—” the worse, you want to say, but unfortunately, you really can’t speak as he lifts your thighs around him once more and slips his deft fingers into you again, rubbing your clit with his other hand.

“I just wanted to be nice, and get you some water, considering you were so bent on having a sip before we left the bar. But excuse me, I have such a needy rabbit on my hands, needing to get off and be fucked stupid before they can be satisfied.”

You squeal as his pace increases. You’re still— so sensitive. He folds your legs up and an odd pressure grows in your abdomen.

“Mihya—” A slip of the tongue, an understandable one, all things considered. “Wait—”

“I’ve been too nice to you, haven’t I?” Kaiser bends you in half. “You’ve forgotten the role you play, haven’t you?”

No, you haven’t, you really just thought that things got too sticky and gooey for Kaiser to continue to be in your bed, and you were trying to not fucking— leash a wolf, for your own safety. But, maybe Kaiser’s cock and the shot you did before you left the club really did make you a bit stupid.

The pressure in your abdomen increases, all pressure and heat.

“Mihya, wait, wait—!” You sob, scrambling to grab his wrist, but he doesn’t stop or slow. His pace grows more frantic, intense.

When you come, it’s wet.

A gush of fluid drips down his wrist, soaking your thighs, and wetting the comforter in a puddle below you. Kaiser keeps going, fucking you through it, despite all of your kicking and pushing.

He doesn’t stop until you come again, the same way. Wet and messy and wrung empty.

Only then, once you’re shaking, choking on your tears and harsh breaths, does he extract his fingers from inside you. They’re— they’re dripping. Soaked, just like the sheets, just like your cheeks.

You have your forearm laid over your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’ve— you’ve never done that before.

“Well,” Kaiser says, a smile so clearly in his voice. “That’s new. How lucky am I?’

“I—” Your voice is chopped. “I d-didn’t know I could do that.”

“... You haven’t before?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms away to look at him.

Kaiser— oh fuck, oh fuck— you made a mistake. You shouldn’t have told him that. The smile he wears is worse than wolfish. It’s worse than predatory. It’s something deeper and more primal that has your hindbrain begging you to roll off the bed and hide in a closet until further notice.

But you don’t, you can’t.

Kaiser kisses you.

He licks at your lips, your mouth, swallowing down each desperate, overstimulated sound that leaves you. His cock— his fucking dick— is half hard again against your thigh.

“No,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. “I can’t— I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” He declares with a sharp kiss to your now locked-shut lips.

You know that there isn’t much you can do to refute him.

(And you’re not sure you want to.)

...

You do, eventually, get water. It’s the early morning by then, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. Kaiser puts a bottle to your lips after you, literally, cannot raise yourself up.

He hasn’t ever fucked you like this— never so many times in a night, never so full and so relentlessly. It’s hard to think— hard to fully understand that he is done— appetite fully satiated. Maybe.

Regardless, Kaiser is done with his gorging, and what’s left is the half-corpse of your body.

“Slow,” he tells you. You’re cradled in his arms as the bottle is put to your lips. You drink too fast, choke, and he scolds you. He’s being uncharacteristically doting.

“S-Sorry,” you mumble. Your lips feel numb.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. You can’t see his face, not really, but you can see the hint of an expression that isn’t as viperous as you would think it to be. It looks... not kinder, but not cruel.

He’s just as worn down and puddle-ish as you are.

Kaiser drinks his own bottle, after wiping you down. You really should shower, you’re filthy, but Kaiser says you can take one in the morning. There’s no practice tomorrow, you can sleep and get clean later.

It’s not until he’s slipping beneath your (fresh, thank god) sheets that you realize Kaiser means that you’ll do so together.

He tucks himself under your chin, head against your chest, with your sticky legs tangled with his own. Like a dog, a wolf maybe, he mouths at a few of the marks he’s left. He only relents with a laugh when you whine enough.

It’s odd, then. The stillness of the room. The only sounds are the whoosh of the aircon, the hum of an air purifier in the other room, and your matched, steady breathing. Kaiser rubs a hand up and down your spine.

“You’re still shaking, bunny,” he hums.

“Am I?” You genuinely can’t tell.

“So hard.” Kaiser lifts up your hand by the wrist, showing off the tremor that he caused. The bastard.

“O-Oh.”

Kaiser nudges your jaw with his nose. A smile is pressed into your skin. Toothy and wide, pleased with himself.

Maybe, hours ago, you would’ve fought him on it. There’s still a well of embarrassment in you, but there’s nothing to do with it when you’re this... fucked. All you can make yourself do is hum, contented enough, and press a few kisses to the crowd of his head. Your vision blurs with exhaustion, with sleep. It doesn’t take long for you to fall under.

(You crash before you notice the tension drain out of Kaiser. You don’t see how he presses closer to you, wraps you up in his arms tighter, tighter than he ever has before. You don’t feel him lavish your marked neck with kisses, luxuriate in his claim and all the closeness he’s broken you down into.)

(And, truthfully, even if you had witnessed this version of Kaiser? You wouldn't have minded. Maybe, even, as rabbit-hearted as you are, you would’ve returned his affections in kind.)

For now, as the gold of morning streams in through your blinds in pretty rays, you sleepily enjoy being caught prey in the arms of a wolf.

thank you for reading!! ❣️

#lore writes #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #kaiser x you #anyways #oh my god #i feel feverish

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mercurial-chuckles · 7 months ago

Note

Steve Rogers x reader??

HIS FIORE - PART 4 (Final)

Summary: Steve smexy Rogers moves into the neighborhood, and one evening, he catches you sneaking into the building opposite his through the fire escape. He watches curiously, slightly amused and, quite frankly, amazed by you. Guess what he does next? He writes a note, signs it with his middle name, Grant, and slips it under your door. How will you discover that Grant is none other than Captain America? Series Warnings: Language | Eventual smut | Mature content (minors DNI) | Steve's naughty thoughts | Steve in-love Rogers | Steve possessive jealous Rogers | Drunk Steve (adorable, hot mess) | Neighbors | Secret identity | Steve watching the reader from a distance (slightly stalker-ish…ish) | No Peggy in my canon divergent universe | A smidge of angst | Overloaded fluff | Happy happy ending

A/N: Finally finished writing this! Originally, I wrote two parts as connected prompts for Steve Rogers Bingo Round 3, but I've decided to revamp the entire piece. Also, I'm going to try sticking to a schedule--wish me luck! 😉 Banner credits: Me | Photo credits: The internet | Divider credits: @buck-star (Sydney, thanks a trillion ❤️) This part is also an entry to SMUT-BER FEST! Thank you, Ro, for sending in the ASK. You have no idea how much I appreciate you! Thank you! I'm sorry for the super delay. @ronearoundblindly I hope you enjoy reading it.

Also, Smutty September Fest has transgressed into SMUT-BER FEST! Am I complaining? Not at all. So, all my darling hoes, if your muse is musing and you want to submit your story/stories, please feel free to do so. Late submissions are more than welcome! Be wild; have fun!

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Check out my other works: Masterlist This part is Unedited! I will edit it as soon as I can!

His Fiore Series Masterlist

Indulge Away!

The evening was peaceful until it wasn't.

Jake and Hannah, your friends from college, were in town for a wedding. They surprised you in the afternoon, dropping by your office, and you all but squealed. It had been ages since you saw them. The last time you visited them in Seattle was after they had their second son, Erik, three years ago.

You had taken the afternoon off. The three of you went to grab lunch, and you invited them over to your place, where you talked for hours, reminiscing about the good old days. When you first met Jake and Hannah, it was in sophomore year of Material Science class. You three teamed up for a project. They had been dating each other since the first year of college. You three became quick friends and often kept in touch. They invited you to their wedding, which was right after graduation. They've been happily married for nearly a decade and have two wonderful boys.

As the evening settled in, you asked to cook dinner, but they disagreed, wishing to go out. You had suggested the Italian restaurant down on Benton Ave. You often order takeouts from there, and the food was quite delicious. Hannah asked you to join them, but you politely declined knowing they could spend some alone time in the city without the kids.

Jake called in to reserve a table for them earlier when you said they were usually busy on Fridays, and they were getting ready to leave when you heard the loud, insistent knock at the door.

You frowned, casting a glance at the time. It was too early for Steve to return. He said he had training going on.

The knock came again, more aggressive this time. You rushed over to the door, pulling it open slowly.

Steve stood there in his tight blue undershirt and khakis. His usual immaculate appearance was slightly messy. His short hair was tousled, and his face was flushed like he had just run a marathon. Knowing him, he might have.

You gulped.

Panic sparked in you as you quickly glanced over your shoulder, spotting Jake adjust the small duffel bag while Hannah was in the restroom. Without hesitation, you stepped forward and tried to edge the door shut, shielding Steve from view.

It was just to protect him, his identity. If Jake or Hannah caught even a glimpse of Captain America standing at your door, it would mean a lot of explanation and complications for him.

Steve frowned at you, leaning closer with one hand on the wall beside you; he framed you in the small space. He smelled so good. You instinctively inched back, trying to shield yourself from the overwhelming effect his presence had on your senses.

You looked up at him. "Steve," you started. "Not the right time, I have…"

But he cut you off abruptly, scoffing. "Yeah, I know." His voice was louder than usual, slightly slurred. He jabbed his long, pointed finger behind you. "There was... a guy," he gritted, "On your... your balcony."

That was when you saw the hazy look in his eyes.

"Are you okay? You look…drunk," you subtly sniffed him, he wasn't reeking of alcohol. And you also knew he couldn't get drunk. Confused, you stared at him to say something.

Oh, fuck. Did Captain America do drugs? Were there… super-soldier serum-resistant drugs?

"Everything okay there?" Jake's voice called out, and before you could respond, Steve was pushing the door open to your living room.

You stood motionless, appalled.

What the hell was Steve doing?

"Jake, have you seen this bookshelf? We…" Hannah's voice trailed off as she suddenly stopped in her tracks and took in the scene.

Panic surged in your chest.

Damage control. Damage control.

If Jake and Hannah were as oblivious as Terry, you could tell them Steve was your gym instructor who lived next door. Yeah, that might work. You squared your shoulders, preparing to sell the lie with all the confidence you could muster.

Thud.

"Holy shit!" Hannah low-key squeaked, her phone slipping from her hands and hitting the carpeted floor.

You winced. Well, so much for that beautiful plan. Now you couldn't sell the idea that Steve was your non-existent gym instructor. It seemed not everyone was as oblivious as you or Terry. Good for them. Not so good for you, though.

But again, it was Steve's fault. Who were you kidding? Those muscles and that that face without those glasses, or a hat would be a dead giveaway any day.

You stood by the door, racking your brain to deal with the situation better, more effectively, while Steve stood pressed by your side now, sending heat through your entire body.

"No fucking way. You are…" Jake started, amazed, and you thought of Steve's potential reaction. You expected he would give them a shy, friendly smile, scratching his neck, entirely too modest, and saying, 'Hi, Steven Grant Rogers.' Or something along those lines.

But your mind couldn't comprehend Steve taking two long strides toward Jake, towering over the 5'11" man, pinning him down with a stare, and rasping, "Captain America. I live next door."

You gaped. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Oh, he just kept digging the hole deeper. You slapped a palm over your eyes, and shook your head, confused and shocked.

"Holy shit," Hannah repeated, amazed.

"Umm…right…yeah," you chuckled awkwardly, taking a step closer, leaning onto the small cabinet by the main door for some support.

"Steve," you started, clearing your throat, deciding to introduce your two flabbergasted friends now that he gave a dramatic, albeit arrogant, introduction. "This is Jake and his wife, Hannah, they are my college friends," you managed to say with much more semblance of control than you expected.

"Ah…wow…umm…hey there, Steve…Captain, it's an honor," Jake sputtered. Hannah stood there shell-shocked.

Steve tilted his head and looked at you, the frown transforming into confusion. Then, his eyes widened in slow motion. "Oh." He opened his mouth to say something, one hand on his hip, while he pointed a finger at you and then at Jake and moved to Hannah.

"Right…" he let out a garbled chuckle that sounded more like a snort. Steve cleared his throat, scratching above his eyebrow, and then licked his lips. You could see the pink coating his cheek.

"'S great to meet you," he muttered, nodding at Jake and Hannah.

You looked at Steve, confused. You haven't seen this side of Steve, not in the few months of knowing him as Grant, your note-sharing next-door neighbor, nor after he revealed himself.

What followed was absolute pin-drop silence and a lot of staring.

"I...uh, yeah," you started, breaking the silence, flustered, trying to keep your composure.

Jake, bless him, quickly gathered his composure and Hannah's hand and picked up the duffel bag and the fallen phone, "Yeah, we should get going. We have the…" he frowned, staring outside, most likely racking his brain for a word.

"Yeah, the reservation," you helped, your own stomach flipping uneasily. Jake nodded, grateful for the input.

And when they were at the door, you followed them outside, leaving Steve standing in your living room. When they looked at you, shocked out of wits. "I'll explain later," you pleaded, feeling a headache forming. "Please just keep it confidential," you requested.

After quick hugs, you bid bye and walked back to your living room to deal with the Captain fine-ass America, no, scratch that. It was Captain fine-ass-most-likely-high America alright.

Steve stood, hands both on his hips, rigidly jutting out all the muscles and veins, and your brain tremored in frustration for more than one reason.

You strode towards him, confused.

"Are you drunk? Did you do drugs? I thought you couldn't get high," you blabbered at him.

"I am," he chuckled, solemnly nodding and grinning at you charmingly. "Asgardian Mead, Thor gifted."

Thor? Oh, the burly godman Thor?

"Thor? As in God of Thunder?" you asked, keeping your thirsty description to yourself.

"Yeah, got real high real fast, 's good stuff," Steve shrugged, and you could see him sway on his legs momentarily, "I think I should sit down," he told you, and before you knew it, he was on the floor, his back to the couch.

"Oh, fuck! Are you ok?" you gasped, kneeling before him. He shifted his large form and tried to straighten up, one leg spreading beside you while he folded his other leg, and he leaned forward, grasping your right hand in his large one and caressing the inside of your palm with his thumb. You choked on your breath at the pleasure shooting down your spine.

He nodded thoughtfully. When he looked up at you from under those perfect, down-right criminal, long eyelashes, not breaking his gaze, you felt your insides churn.

No. No. Distance. You need distance.

"I'll get you some water," you told him, breaking the silence. He blinked, letting your hand go reluctantly.

You took a moment to yourself as you scrambled away to fill the empty bottle. You could feel his sharp gaze scorching your form.

The past few days had been great. Spending time with Steve felt wholesome, and you really had come close, and this time, it wasn't merely through notes. You both spent insurmountable time together, cooking, eating and talking, lots and lots of talking.

Though you'd been trying to get a grip on your feelings for him, things were much simpler to handle when your mind was not buffering or your heart racing out of your chest. While your heart did its thing, spending more time with him had your mind in better control. You were finally able to grasp that Captain America, the living legend, was a simple man who was too sassy and stubborn for his own good. And he was willingly spending time with you. And that he was a sinfully gorgeous, walking green flag of a man.

Now that very man was sitting on your living room floor, likely out of his rocker, and high on burly man's mead.

When a few drops of water spilled on you, overflowing from the water, you shut off the valve and walked back to him, handing him the bottle. He eyed the bottle briefly before taking it and gulping down a few sips.

"What's going on?" you asked.

He looked up at you with a shy almost guilty-looking grin and pulled you closer, his grip firm on your forearm, and you landed ungracefully half on him and half on the floor, and despite his state, he steadied you.

Dear mother of sweet Duckburg! Those thighs felt rigid.

"Steve," you squealed, pushing yourself off him and moving away hastily, but his grip on you was unwavering. So, you settled for sitting closer and not straddling on his lap.

Even though he was sitting on the floor, slouched against the couch, and you knelt before him, Steve's broad frame still towered over you. The mere size difference was sending your mind unholy signals.

Nope. Don't go there. Don't you fucking go there!

"What the hell's going on?" You asked again, voicing your desperation and frustration.

"I saw him on your balcony. And I didn't... I didn't like it." Steve snickered, throwing a glance towards your balcony.

"Wh…what?"

"I thought you were going on a date with him," he finally said, more like hissed.

"You got drunk on some Thunder god's mead because you thought I was going on a date?" you asked, incredulous.

Steve winced, shutting his eyes and nodded.

Your breath hitched. An overwhelming warmth bloomed in your chest, making you gulp, leaning more of your weight on one arm that was not held in a super soldier grip.

"Steve..." You didn't know what to say, your mind reeling. You pulled your hand free, and thankfully, he let you.

"I heard him talking about dinner reservations. I thought…" He trailed off, staring at the floor. "When I heard... I heard him," he muttered again, "And I thought, 'Why isn't it me?'"

You froze. "What?"

"I wanted it to be me," Steve bit out angrily, his sharp jaw clenching as his gaze turned distant. A hint of sadness lingered in his half-lidded blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

Why was your rational brain not working? Oh, for god's sake, this was not Quantum Gravity. Steve was hinting at being jealous. He liked you, right?

You felt butterflies swarming your entire body. Warm, hungry butterflies, heating you up.

You scoffed at the absurdity of the situation. "Why?" You asked though you were grasping the why. "You're not making any sense," you said, trying to dismiss it as drunken rambling, but your heart wasn't listening.

No. Don't say it, Steve. No.

"I like you, like a whole lot," he murmured, pushing himself off the back of the couch and leaning closer to you. The heat of his breath on your cheek, his intoxicating smell captured your senses and pushed them into overdrive.

"No, 'S not true…" he whispered, his lips ghosting your cheek. He shook his head, chuckling, making you shudder at the sensation, and you stared at him in confusion.

What's not true? Was he making fun of you? Was this a prank? Your entire face heated up. Steve leaned even closer, his lips grazing your ear, and you bit your lip, your breaths coming out shallow. He cradled your jaw with his large palm and whispered the words you'd thought you'd never hear in any possible reality. "I love you." And he kissed your cheek, gently. The way he set your heart ablaze with that simple touch of his lips on your skin was unbelievable.

"Steve," you whispered, appalled and slightly worried, but he cut you off with a slight shake of his head.

How can you trust any of what he was saying? He was drunk.

You moved out of his grasp, beyond breathless, searching his eyes, your heart racing as you stared at him in disbelief.

"Your happy place…the one you told me about when I had that really bad nightmare. I want to be there with you, just you and me, I want to hold you close while we watch the rain together in our cozy home," he continued softly. Your insides twisted, and you sat there, wide-eyed, clinging to every word he spoke.

"I'll even learn to make the perfect coffee for you," he added with a small, dreamy smile. The vulnerability in his voice tugged painfully at your heart, and your eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"No, stop," you cried, unable to take any of this. What if tomorrow comes, and it will all shatter?

"But… it's the truth, doll. I love you, and I never felt anything like this in my long, painful existence," he said with conviction, wrapping your heart with more of his words.

You shook your head, unable to control your emotions, your tears flowing furiously.

"I'm sorry…I didn't want to make you cry," he soothed, wiping away your angry, helpless tears. His eyes blurred, sighing heavily, exhausted.

"Give me a chance, sweetheart, and I will prove to you how perfect we are."

You were only human, and when a man you had feelings for confessed to you, you couldn't help but break down before him. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you into his lap effortlessly, securely, and held you as you cried into his shoulder.

You didn't dare hug him back; you couldn't because you were scared to hope. Your arms stayed beside you as he soothed you so gently.

No. NO. Don't you dare believe all this? He was not really in his senses right now. What he drank was not even like human alcohol. Maybe it made you see things you didn't want to or say things you didn't intend to.

"You're sleeping this off." You muttered, clambering out of his hold. You cleared your throat, and composed yourself, "We'll talk about this later."

Steve nodded, a frown marring his perfect face. He managed to stand up and got onto your couch with little guidance. He flopped face-first onto it, legs hanging outside, mumbling incoherent words into the cushion.

You stared at the giant man, reeling from the shock of his confession. You stood there for a long moment, bewildered. Gathering some strength, you went to your bedroom and brought the blanket for him. You flung it over him carefully, tucking the blanket.

Eyes shut, Steve reached for your hand and gently grasped your shivering palm into his fist. You awkwardly crouched over him and tried to pull away, but he stubbornly held on. You saw the faint smile on his smushed face on the pillow. Sighing, you settled on the floor before the couch, letting him hold you and consume your thoughts.

"'S nice." He mumbled, getting comfortable and drifted off to sleep, his breathing slow and steady.

You freed your palm from his grip after almost an hour. You picked up the water bottle on the floor and downed it whole. You could use some mead right about now. Maybe not Asgardian, perhaps the human version.

A wave of shock coursed through you as the whole thing came rushing to you. Emotions still running high, you collapsed onto the chair beside the couch.

You felt happiness bubbling in your chest, thrashing in waves as your mind processed. You thought he was just being a good friend, but could you hope; hope that what he said was all true? If you were being honest, you knew how you felt. He was everything you ever wanted. Could you love him wholly? Captain America…Grant…Steve?

You had been trying so damn hard to make sense of your feelings, hoping, praying, that they would become a simple celebrity crush after he revealed he was Captain America. Denying the feelings was easier to save yourself from heartbreak, but now he throws this whole thing at you.

Maybe it was your fault. When he pushed that note underneath your door the first time, you should have knocked on his door instead of grinning like a fool and weaving into starting the whole note-sharing.

You looked at his sleepy form, his lips slightly parted as he slept peacefully, completely erasing peace from your life. You wanted to smack his stupidly perfect face.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you adjusted the blanket over him, which slipped off when he moved around.

"I'll be here in the morning," you whispered softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

And for the first time that night, when you laid your head on the pillow, as chaotic as it was, you allowed yourself to hope.

Steve woke up with a pounding headache. He hadn't been this drunk in a lifetime. It took him a few minutes to open his eyes, and he groaned in pain, sitting up on the soft couch. Not just soft, it smelled like you, soothing his senses a bit. Why did it smell like you in his apartment? Why did he smell like you? He wondered, dazed, and then he looked at the blanket.

He frantically looked around, confused, and the memories of the previous night came thrashing, jumbled.

Steve winced in disdain as he remembered the guy, the mead. Then…

"Son of a bitch," he paled as things shuffled in his head from last night, he confessed to you, and a small memory vividly stood out in his mind: "We'll talk about this later." You said with a tear-stricken face.

Shit. What had he done? He'd ruined it. Didn't he? Of course, she doesn't feel the same, he thought bitterly. Why can't he seem to understand the definition of patience with you?

His gut twisted with guilt, embarrassment, and anger at himself, at his lack of control. You were asleep in your room. He hastily got up, held the blanket close to him one last time, and left before you could see him.

The frustration of it all formed a storm in his chest.

When you woke up, Steve was long gone, and all you found was a perfectly folded blanket and a note:

Thank you for letting me stay. I'll see you around. – Steve.

And your heart did break reading the note. Of course, he didn't mean what he said. It was just the mead talking. You felt stupid for hoping.

For the first time ever, you despised the weekend. You couldn't simply face him or his presence, even if it was separated by a wall.

So, you did the only thing you could think of, get out and stay out as long as possible. You roamed through the city, weaving in and out of touristy spots, hoping for the noise of the crowd to temporarily drown out the tumultuous thoughts.

You checked your phone now and then, half-expecting it to ping with a message from Steve. Maybe he had an important mission or something that needed his attention, which would delay the inevitable conversation.

But the phone remained silent. No text. No call.

You wandered through the streets, walking aimlessly, letting the hum of the city distract you from the ache inside. But eventually, the noise inside you won, and the crowd wasn't helping you anymore.

When you finally parked your car in front of the building at 12:30 am, to your utter shock, you found Steve trudging up the steps to the apartment entrance. His body was stiff, and you could see the bruises and the blood. Your gaze caught his, and your eyes widened in shock. He seemed to not expect to see you.

And he was hurt badly. Shit. He was really on a mission.

"Steve?" you called, hurrying out of your car, forgetting about the whole ordeal while all you could think about was him being hurt. You briskly crossed the small road, calling out his name, but he didn't stop walking.

"Steve, wait!"

But hurt Steve Rogers was faster than you as you saw the elevator display show 5 by the time you reached the elevator doors.

"Why the hell are these so fast?" You muttered, the irony of your statement not lost on you. Just a few days ago, you cursed the same elevator for being too slow. You pressed the button again and again and again, annoyed at the elevator and him.

Once you reached your floor, you didn't hesitate to march to his apartment, heart pounding. You didn't know if it was frustration, concern, or a mix that fueled your actions.

You were just living your simple life before he decided to wreck it. You were doing just fine, dealing with your affection for him before he confessed.

His face was a blend of exhaustion and irritation when he opened the door after your incessant knocking.

He stood in his white undershirt, bloodied and bruised, and your heart tugged with concern.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice clipped.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. "I…what? You're hurt, for one. Why the hell are you not at the hospital?"

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I'm fine." Then, in a quiet voice, he whispered, "Why do you care, neighbor?" His petulance was gnawing at your nerves, irking you and the question struck you harder than you expected, and your breath hitched.

"Steve," you said, your voice barely audible. "You are hurt." You stared at him, bewildered and angry.

He was hurt. How could he expect you not to?

Something shifted in his expression, exhaustion, maybe. Whatever it was, it broke the dam between you, and the words you'd been waiting to say spilled out.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped, throwing your hands up.

Fuck him and his attitude.

"You come to my apartment, drunk on some stupid mead, confess your feelings, leave me with a cryptic note, and then fucking vanish for the whole day! Do you not remember anything, neighbor?"

Steve's brows furrowed his expression hard. "Of course, I remember," he shot back. "I poured my damn heart out, made you cry, and it…it hurts."

The sheer audacity made your jaw drop. Your breath hitched. What? Your frown deepened, and the anger consumed you more.

Pointing a finger at him, "Hurts?�� Your voice rose, incredulous. "Captain Rogers, you were drunk off your ass! You scared both my friends half to death, confessed out of nowhere, and then you expect me to what? Tell you how much I love you? I waited, Steve! I waited for you to come to your senses so we could talk like fucking adults!" you gritted the words out, feeling satisfied to throw it all on his face.

He stared at you, his confusion palpable, but his tone stayed defensive. "Wait a second! You were the one who said, 'We'll talk later,' like it didn't mean a damn thing!"

"That's because you were fucking out of it, slurring your words!" you yelled back, your face heating, neck straining to have to look up.

The two of you stood there, breathless, glaring at each other until realization struck Steve like a bolt. His posture stiffened, his blue eyes widening as if seeing the entire situation in a new light.

"Hold on a damn second," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You don't hate me?"

"What?" you exclaimed, exasperation lacing your voice. "Where did you even get that from? And, why else would I be here, chasing you down after you practically ghosted me if I hated your dumbass?"

"And... you just said you…" His words faltered as his gaze locked onto yours.

The silence fell between you. You blinked, realization hitting you with equal force.

I poured my heart to you, and you dismissed me! Steve's words came like lightning.

"Oh, God," you murmured, your face flaming. "So, you do umm...whatever you said, you meant it?" You asked.

Steve froze, his eyes wide, but then his face softened into the most breathtaking grin you'd ever seen.

The tension broke like a snapped string, and Steve let out a low, almost disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. "I thought you didn't feel the same," he muttered, his voice thick.

You stared at him, the sheer misunderstanding making you want to scream. "And I thought you regretted it!"

He stepped closer, "The only thing I regret," he murmured, his eyes burning into yours, "Is touching that damn Asgardian mead. I swear I'm never going near that stuff again."

A soft laugh bubbled out of you without volition. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hissing, and your focus shifted to his bruises. "Steve…" you sighed, heart racing while you felt a huge weight lift off of you.

His lips curved into a soft, tender smile as he leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours, careful to avoid the gash on the left side of his face. His voice was low, filled with warmth. "For the record, I don't remember everything I said to you last night, but drunk or not... I love you."

Your breath hitched, but your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt. "Damnit, Steve!" you grumbled softly, affectionately, tears blurring your eyes.

His grin turned boyish as he pulled you into his living room before shutting the door just as the distant sound of Mrs. Reindell's door squeaked open.

Before he could take another step towards you, you pointed to the couch with a stern look. "We'll talk, but first, sit there. You're bleeding."

Steve raised a brow at your tone, his lips twitching in amusement, but he complied, sinking onto the couch. You noticed the tension on his shoulders and how his body sagged as if he was barely holding himself together.

"Where's your first aid kit?" you asked, scanning the room.

"I'll get it," he offered, starting to rise.

"Oh, no, you don't," you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down. "Sit your ass down and stay. Now tell me where it is."

He chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying your bossiness far too much. "Third shelf, left side, linen closet."

You gave him one more warning look before heading down the hall. His apartment was neat. Too neat. Everything had its place, down to the neatly folded towels in the linen closet. You grabbed the first aid kit and returned, noticing Steve watching you with an amused expression.

"What's so funny?" you asked, settling on the coffee table and setting the kit beside you. "Nothing," he said, leaning back against the couch, that maddening little smile still in place.

You chuckled, pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze. "Take your shirt off. I need to see the damage." Steve didn't say a word except for the slight tilt of his lips. You froze for half a second before narrowing your eyes.

He grinned but obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head with ease. As much as you'd steeled yourself, the sight of him shirtless hit you like a truck. Muscles corded his chest and arms, marred only by the bruises and scrapes from wherever he got those from. You bit your lip without thinking, but when his gaze flicked to your face, you quickly composed yourself, focusing on the task.

Steve was enjoying this far too much.

"What happened?" You started cleaning the wound on his chest, and then the gash on his face, your touch gentle.

He tilted his head to give you better access, his lips quirking into a soft smile. "Hazard of the job."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't care for yourself. Why are you not at the hospital? Does your insurance not cover tomfoolery?" you muttered, moving to inspect his arms.

"Smartass," Steve chuckled, shaking his head. You giggled.

"You're really not denying the lack of tomfoolery then?" You pointed, your fingers brushed over the bruises as you worked, but just as you went to recheck one of the wounds you'd cleaned, you realized it was already healing.

You blinked, looking up at him in surprise. Steve shrugged, his smile turning a little sheepish. "Serum."

You frowned, "That doesn't discount you for not taking care of yourself, Steve," you retorted, shaking your head.

"Is it hurting anywhere else?" you asked, your eyes scanning him for more injuries. It was both strange and fascinating to watch the cuts and bruises fade before your eyes, his enhanced healing working its magic. Steve shook his head, silently watching with that intense look.

You packed up the first aid kit and stood to return it to its place, and Steve followed close behind you, his presence warm and steady.

You paused, your hand resting on the linen closet door as you put away the kit.

When you turned, he stood so close, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes burned you, waiting. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension.

"I do love you if that didn't register in your super soldier brain," you said with a small smile.

Steve looked away, shaking his head. "You drive me crazy," he rasped, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His bare chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. He shut his eyes, and the way his jaw ticked told you he was restraining.

Your own heart picked up.

When his eyes finally met yours, their heat was enough to steal the air from your lungs. It wasn't just a look; it was seeking permission and a promise, and you realized you'd gladly surrender to him.

He closed the distance in a single stride, crowding you against the wall beside the closet door. The solid surface met your back as his left hand planted firmly above your head.

He leaned in, his movements deliberate and intense, the tip of his nose grazing the side of your cheek. The contact was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you trembling beneath him. Your face and ears heated up, and you were sure you were blushing.

His rich and warm scent enveloped you, anchoring you to the moment simultaneously unraveling your composure.

Steve moved his right hand, his thumb traced your chin, and your lips parted, eyes closing shut. His palm cradled your jaw whole with a tenderness that contrasted with the sheer intensity radiating from him.

"You're so gorgeous, doll," he murmured, the words laced with such honesty you could cry.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his darkened blues, turbulent and reverent. The weight of his gaze held you captive, your heart pounding in your chest.

Instinctively, you reached out, your hand hovering over the expanse of his chest, avoiding the gradually healing bruises. The heat of his skin radiated against your fingertips, the light dusting of chest hair teasing the expanse of your palm.

He caught your wrist in his larger hand, his grip firm yet gentle. The sheer size of his palm dwarfed your entire forearm, his thumb brushing slow circles over the delicate skin of your wrist, drawing a whimper from you. Then, carefully, he guided your hand to rest fully against his chest, pressing it over his heart.

"Feel that?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, placing a butterfly kiss on your forehead, before tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours. Underneath the warmth of his muscular chest, his heartbeat thundered beneath your palm, erratic and unguarded.

"You do that to me." He murmured, his lips hovered so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, his words stirring the air between you. Your mouth went dry, and you licked your lips, and his gaze moved to them.

His nose flared as he mimicked you, licking his own lips. Before you could lean in, he was moving. His lips touched yours gently first, and he let out a groan, fueling you with such intensity, burning you with a simple touch.

You really did that to him. That thought unraveled you, and you eagerly moved onto your tiptoes, hands finding purchase in his soft blonde locks. His hands moved to the side of your waist, and he pulled you closer and straightened up, lifting you off the ground, holding you by his one arm wrapped around your waist, and he ran the other hand down the back of your thigh, and you wound your legs around him. Your body pressed into his delectably.

He took your mouth into another kiss, a low rumble reverberating from his chest as he pinned you to the wall, one arm carding through your hair as he held you firm.

"You taste so good," he murmured, breaking the kiss momentarily before kissing you again passionately. Steve's tactile pants couldn't hide his arousal as he hardened against your stomach.

Your pussy fluttered, and you moaned into his mouth, breathless and completely needy, addicted to everything that was him.

The way he nipped your lips and pushed his tongue against you felt unreal. You never had a kiss that good. Never.

Steve pulled apart slightly, allowing you both to breathe. His breath came out in spurts, heating up your skin, and you searched his gaze expectantly, the hazy and happy grin on his face etched in your core memory.

"Steve," you whispered, rubbing your thumb against his lower lip, and he shivered.

"Not done with you," he rasped, his hand lifting you up to keep you at the level to his mouth and he kissed you with more vigor and fuck, you were completely drenched.

You both parted from the kiss again, breathless, and he leaned into your neck, nipping the skin at your throat and your head fell back, arching, giving him access while your legs tightened around him. Steve placed a few wet kisses along the expanse of your neck before adjusting you in his arms, his one hand winding around your back and rubbing the side of your boob while his other hand moved to hold your ass as he squeezed it tightly, surprising you, and you felt his hardness against your clothed pussy.

"Holy shit!" Your cry synced with his loud grunt when he rocked against you. His forehead rested against yours, "Eyes on me," he demanded, and you obeyed.

"Will you let me love you? Every inch of you?" He asked softly, reverently, and when you nodded, reciprocating with a roll of your hips, his jaw clenched, teeth gritting as he thrust against you with a bit more force, and you were reaching your high. Oh, god!

"Words, please," it was really funny how he could be sweet and sinful all at once. "Yes…but don't fucking stop, Steve, I'm so close," you confessed unashamed, unbothered, breath hitching as he rocked you onto him. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and the friction felt just perfect.

"That mouth," he chuckled darkly, lowering his head into the crook of your neck as he nipped your skin. You moaned.

Steve moved up, looking at you for a beat long when he thrusted with a bit more force and saw your lips part, letting out a breathless cry. He groaned, taking your lower lip between his lips and sucking on it gently, and his grip around your ass tightened as he rolled his hips. You felt the heat of his touch, and the pleasure consumed you all at once. You cried out loudly, body arching as you gripped his shoulders.

Steve didn't slow down, though, "God, your smell…" He grunted and sped up, thrusting incessantly. His hands grazed your hardened nipples over your bra and squeezed. Your pussy clenched at the new sensation he was evoking while still dry-humping against you. Not so dry because you were sure you were soaking through your leggings.

His hand moved to cup your ass again, squeezing tightly, and you shivered, succumbing to another orgasm, falling into his arms, whispering, crying his name.

"Fucking perfect…" he cursed, breath hitched as he nipped your jaw and moved to ear. "I love you," he whispered, placing a kiss on your earlobe, his sharp nose caressing down your neck, his mouth placing kisses down the path, and you trembled in his arms.

His hand moved to your tit, and he squeezed gently at first, and when you moaned lewdly, he palmed it with a bit more pressure, repeating the same on the other one.

You had no idea when he carried you to the bedroom and placed you gently on the neatly made bed, and you leaned on your elbows, moving back to make space for him on the Queen bed. He switched on the table lamp by the bed, and that was when you saw the dark blue mark on the lower part of his back that you had missed earlier.

"Steve," you called out in concern. Shit! What were you doing? He was hurt and still healing.

"Wait…" you started, unable to formulate a bloody sentence because you were fucking buzzed from the orgasmic high, and Steve stiffened, his muscles clenched visibly as he turned to you, looking worried.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked you in a soft, concerned voice.

"No…" you smacked yourself. "No…no…no…that was absolutely best," you chuckled. Steve relaxed his stance, moving closer.

Your gaze dropped to his body. "You're hurt, we should…maybe stop… some medicine…" you were cut off. Steve quickly climbed onto the bed, straddling your thighs and taking your lips into another deep, languid kiss, consuming your doubts and thoughts. You let yourself fall back on the mattress, letting your weight settle completely.

Steve broke the kiss to murmur against your lips, "Right now, I need you more than anything else. My bruises will heal soon, I promise," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again tenderly, and your idea to wait it out evaporated from your brain when his heated kisses sizzled your skin.

"Can I remove these?" he asked, nuzzling your throat, his fingers dipped on the side of your pants just at your hip bone. Steve's touch felt hot on your skin, and not enough; they were so close to your pussy.

"Please," you begged, and you helped him remove your pants along with your panties. And when he dragged them down, you removed your shirt.

When you moved to remove your bra, his hands stopped you, and he turned you onto your stomach before pressing his palm on your back, "So soft," he whispered, moving forward to place a tiny kiss on your shoulder and trying to undo the clasp, but he wasn't able to get it out.

When you looked over your shoulder, watching him struggle, you giggled. The dexterous Captain America was struggling with a bra strap. He rolled his eyes and plucked it again. It tore away to your utter shock, "Sorry," he said, removing the bra and simultaneously turning you onto your back.

"Are you, though?" you asked shyly as he pulled your bra completely,

leaving you completely naked for him. The coolness of the room suddenly hits you, sending goosebumps all over your body. Your nipples hardened even more.

Steve sat back on his knees, straddling your thighs, and he let out a groan lazily, watching every inch of your skin.

"No, I'm not, far from it," he winked, dazed in lustful haze.

Steve splayed his large palm on your upper left thigh and squeezed it, making you clench in need.

"So pretty, like a painting," he whispered, taking your hand and kissing the inside of your palm, and you whimpered as his fingers caressed your wet folds. His thumb circled the nub. "Steve," you cried.

"Yes?" He asked, looking up at you, so fucking innocently, searching.

"Stop teasing," you moaned, earning a whimper from him when your own hand reached down to caress him over his pants. Steve let out a growl, moaning loudly, his head thrown back as he cupped your pussy firmly, and your grip on him tightened involuntarily, and you moaned in delight, your legs wiggling. You moved to sit, effectively pushing him slightly.

"You're overdressed," you said urgently, needy hands moving to his pants.

"Am I?" he chuckled, voice raspy, he moved to hold your tit, squeezing your waist and you moaned.

Steve moved to take your lips in a searing kiss. Quickly moving into a plank position, he efficiently removed his pants without breaking the kiss, discarding his pants with a single hand.

That was pussy flutteringly impressive.

You pulled apart from the kiss and dragged down his boxers, and Steve kicked them away and the sight of him completely naked made you moan, and you trembled beneath him; his sheer strength made you gasp.

Fucking Adonis!

Steve looked at you, expectant and unsure.

"You're so beautiful," you told him in awe, eyes trailing the length of him. He grinned at you happily.

You wanted to touch him, taste him, take him in your mouth, feel him fall apart.

He was girthy, long and beautiful. "Can I?" you asked, and he nodded, slightly shy at the first touch, "Son of a bitch," he cursed falling over you. He quickly steadied himself. Your small hand wrapped near the tip as you pumped, smearing his precum and rubbing it along, and he groaned into your shoulder, sinking his teeth into your skin, not too hard but enough to leave your mind screaming in pleasure.

When you gestured your intentions of getting on your knees, Steve understood, but he shook his head and whispered against your mouth, "Later. I need to feel you, please," he gritted out, and you nodded but didn't stop rubbing him. Steve, however, moved your hand, bringing it back, still holding himself in that plank position.

Fuck, he was so strong. He moved around lithely.

You simply were incapable of saying a word when he rubbed his fingers so delightfully over your folds, evoking pleasure. He pulled your other hand, clutching at the sheet desperately entwined his large fingers with yours, and held it beside your head. He pushed a finger gently, and you cried, voice hitching as he slowly pushed it to his second knuckle. He pumped it inside you, and when you begged him to fill you up, Steve growled.

"So beautiful," he groaned, placing a kiss on your cleavage before kissing the swell of your left boob before he sucked on it.

You waited impatiently as he lined up at your entrance. Steve stilled, though, looking at you with concern. "What's wrong?" you asked. Steve leaned against your forehead, sighing heavily, jaw slightly clenching. "I do not have any protection," he said. It took you a hot moment. Right! Condom.

"Steve…umm… I'm clean, on birth control…if that…I haven't been with anyone in a while if that's…" you felt absolutely stupid blabbering. Quickly composing, you took a deep breath, not focusing on his bare cock against your pussy. You looked up at him, "We don't need to do this now…" but Steve frowned, cutting you off and claiming your lips in a quick kiss.

"No, that's not what I want. If you are okay, I don't mind. I'll pull it out, I promise. I…I haven't been with anyone. My medical is all clear, too," Steve added, his cheeks flushed a little more.

You smiled, nodding, looking up at him.

"Stop me if it's too much," his soft command registered through the haze of desire when he slotted himself at the entrance, pushing the tip inside. Your body went rigid at the feel.

"FUCKING HELL," he yelled, clutching the pillow in a death grip. "You okay?" he managed to say, breathless, the unruly lock of hair falling onto his forehead, making him even more perfect. You nodded, trying to breathe.

"Move…" you mouthed inaudibly, and he pushed a little more. You moved your hands to his pert ass, encouraging him to push in more because, dear god, you were incapable of getting a word out of your mouth.

Thankfully, he was reading every tiny expression on your face, and he rocked a couple of times before fully thrusting inside. He stilled, mouth parted, head thrown back, his eyes shut tightly for a second before he let out a loud groan. Your own eyes pinched close. The sudden intrusion and his mere size felt slightly uncomfortable and overwhelming.

"Too much?" he managed to ask you despite looking like he could rail you onto the mattress. He stilled, waiting.

You took a few steady breaths. "Move," you whispered, and he rocked experimentally a couple of times. And the unease of being so full faded as you clenched around him needily. The pleasant ache in your belly burgeoned, spiraling, building to thrash you into an all-consuming orgasm.

Your head thrashed onto the pillow as you arched, hands moving carefully to clutch his shoulders, avoiding the bruises.

"Sweetheart, can you look at me," he rasped, and your heart tugged at his plea. You mustered your courage and opened your eyes, which were ready to roll into the back of your head. His face contorted in pleasure as his thrusts turned languid, and he leaned down, moving close to your lips.

"Such a good girl," he said, making your breath hitch and your pussy clenched around him tightly. "Nngh fuck," he chuckled.

"Steve," you moaned, winding your hands around him as you pulled him closer. When he searched your eyes with concern, you bit your lip when he stilled.

"I can take it, Captain. You don't have to worry. I'll stop if it's too much. Okay?" you managed to say between heavy breaths. His jaw clenched, his hands moved to the back of your right thigh, tapping, and you wound your legs around him, the angle making you both moan loudly. You tried to twist your foot away from the bruise you remembered on his lower back.

Steve seemed to realize your plight. "Shit, doll, don't worry, just…hold on tight," he grunted, and you did. He moved your wrists above onto the pillow and held them there with his right hand while his left hand moved to fondle your tits.

You moaned when he rolled his hips into you, and he didn't hold back, rutting into you with such force that if he wasn't holding you down, you would have moved up and off the bed.

"Steve…fuck…fuck…," his every thrust hit the spot that had you seeing stars. When he moved his hand away from the tit to your lips, you captured his thumb in your mouth, rolling your tongue and sucking on it, moaning. Steve's breath hitched; his hand tightened on your wrists while he fucked you into the mattress.

The pleasure built inside your tummy, and your lips parted. He moved his finger out of your mouth, and you cried at the sensation.

"Yes, fuck, you're squeezing me so good," he gasped, and your orgasm overtook every fucking sense in your body. Steve's hips stuttered against your hips, and when you looked at him and smiled giddily, he grinned, sitting up on the bed straight and carrying you up with him. You sat in his lap with him still nestled inside you so delectably. The new angle had you clenching on him tightly.

His hands moved to clutch your neck, and he pivoted you closer as he claimed your mouth for another kiss. It was sloppy, rough, and you fucking loved it. You tried to move on his dick, and he moaned into your mouth.

"Perfect for me," he sighed greedily, pulling you in for another kiss and thrusting up into you, and you squealed as he hit your cervix deeper. He stilled, checking on you. "All good," you managed to squeak, and he nodded, thrusting up.

"Fuck fuck fuck… don't stop," you chanted as you felt yourself careen and your orgasm consumed you. His veiny cock dipped into you just right as he moaned lewdly into your ear, not stopping his movement. Steve waited till he saw you blink at him, and just as you came down from your high, he pushed you onto your back, folding your legs at the knees, and pushed them close to your chest and rocked into you. You watched in awe as he flushed red, a sheen of sweat covering his brow, and his beautiful gaze held yours.

"I'm…"

"Let go," you nodded, and his biceps flexed, and he growled your name loudly before he came.

Fuck, that's a lot of cum. Probably a super soldier thing, you thought, moaning in delight as you felt the delicious friction of his cock splaying his cum on your pussy.

He huffed, breathing heavily, his eyes closed, a small smile playing on his lips as he leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss, his breath heavy on your mouth. When he came down from his high, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Are you okay?" he asked, blue eyes searching yours, his voice softer, raspier.

You chuckled, the sound light and full of warmth. "Okay is an understatement," you said, grinning.

His lips curved into a smug smile as he kissed your forehead softly.

"And you?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I feel like…" He sighed happily, placing a lingering kiss on your neck. "I've died and gone to heaven," he murmured, then laughed softly, falling onto his back, and pulled you onto him, not bothered by the mess you were both making.

"I love you," he said against your lips, his voice low and reverent.

"I love you," you whispered, the words carrying all the affection you felt for him. He chuckled, his chest vibrating against yours, before capturing your lips in another kiss.

Much later, you both lay cuddled after he helped you clean up. Steve put you in his t-shirt while he was in his boxers. He was still hard as a rock, and you had tried to help him out, but he shook his head, saying he needed to hold you close first, and you needed some rest. As the room grew quieter, he spoke softly. "You know, I was so worried I would mess it up."

"Mess it up?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"With you… um, sex…" he said, his voice uncertain.

"Sex?" you repeated, resting your chin upon his bare chest. The lights were off, casting the room into a beautiful cozy ambience.

He looked at you, his arms instinctively pulling you closer. "I… I've never done that before…" he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

"Sex?" you repeated, sitting up slightly and propping yourself on his chest to look at him. Your brows shot up in surprise, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating your wide-eyed expression. "Wait, that was your first time?"

He gave you a sheepish shrug. "Uh… yeah," he said, avoiding your gaze.

"As in, after thawing?" you asked curiously. He snorted, clearing his throat and throwing you a deadpan look.

"Oh, god, like ever?" Your stunned squeak came out garbled. "Doll," he groaned, smushing his face in the crook of your neck.

You blinked, processing his words before a smile tugged at your lips.

"Hold on." You gestured dramatically but were not able to say anything.

You couldn't hold back the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

"Oh my God, it's an honor to serve under you, Captain!" you teased, your grin downright wicked now.

"Hey!" he cut you off, his hands flying to your waist as he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. The sudden movement made you squeal, laughter spilling out of you.

"Keep laughing, and I'll show you just how much of a quick learner I am and am bloody efficient," he said, his voice low and playful, the heat in his eyes making your laughter catch in your throat.

Your giggles subsided into breathless chuckles as you reached up to trace his jawline. "I'm not laughing at you," you said softly, though the smile on your lips remained. "I'm just… shocked. I mean, that was incredible. You were incredible."

He relaxed at your words, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. "I was worried…"

"Oh, I noticed," you teased lightly, earning a groan from him. "But honestly? That just makes it even sweeter. And kind of… hot," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah?" he asked, his lips brushing your collarbone now.

"Yeah," you replied, threading your fingers through his hair. "But, uh, just to clarify…" You smirked. "You're not planning on being a one-hit wonder, are you?"

The laughter that rumbled out of him was low and infectious as he leaned back to look at you, his blue eyes sparkling warmly. "My darling Fiore," he murmured, his voice dripping with mischief. "I can do this all day."

There there...HIS FIORE IS DONE! YAYYY!

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