#Brain Activities for Seniors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keeksandgigz · 1 year ago

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

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kamiversee · 1 year ago

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

2 | draws me so close

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, sexual tension, fluff, slight dirty talk, teeny tiny tinge of smut, flirting, suggestiveness, etc.

❧ Word Count | 6.7k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Love truly is something beautiful, isn’t it? Especially the process of falling in love. It’s different for each person, the falling process. Some people stumble before they fall, some trip, and some simply leap into that fall.

But you, well, you do a bit of it all, really. You believe your first step toward falling in love was a trip— your heartbeat beginning to race, ears perking up whenever a certain someone opens his mouth, and finding yourself enamored by every second spent with the man…

It was a gradual thing. So much so that instead of love, it may have been a beautiful blend of lust and love in the beginning. And lusting for Gojo Satoru is something only a select few can say they’ve had the pleasure of doing, you being the newest to experience such.

From the day you met him, the friendship kinda just took off. That same day, you went home smiling from ear to ear all because you managed to get his number. Sure, you lived with your number one hater but, you’d deal with Choso and his attitude much later. All that occupied your brain when you got home was the oh-so-beautiful Gojo Satoru whose smile and flirtatious manner were etched into your brain after merely one day.

He had such a pretty smile, with cute dimples present on each side of his face, the most enamoring set of blue eyes-, fuck you could gush about his looks all damn day. Which is exactly why when you got to your apartment, you were quick to text him. Never would you let his number go to waste in your phone but it was truly surprising to receive a text back minutes later.

You’re not sure what you were expecting but it was pleasant to get a text back so quickly. From there, the conversation was just as charismatic and seamless as it was in person. Gojo was kinda an oddball but you think you liked that about him. Instead of constant texts asking what you were doing, he’d just tell you the most random things or ask bizarre questions.

This is what led to text after text, day after day, week after week. And in the midst of such activities, some texts became calls and some calls became Facetimes and before you knew it, you and Gojo were chatting it up every day. He’d have you laughing wee hours into the night, smiling seconds after you wake up to yet another spontaneous text, and giddy to start your day by going to that lovely cafe he works in.

These things became routine and you found yourself kicking off your senior year of university happily. Said routine continued unchangingly for about a month or so— cute moments of flirting, occasional hangouts, and these odd moments of longing looks shared that make both of your hearts skip a beat-

Okay, so that last bit is rather confusing for you. Often would you or Gojo find yourselves saying nothing and yet everything through your gazes alone. Despite how often it occurred, nothing but desirable glances took place. At least, until you found yourself knowing Gojo for a solid month and something had simply… changed.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

On a rather windy Friday morning, you were on your way to that cute lil’ cafe, as usual, and hadn’t expected anything to be different today in comparison to the days prior.

Based on the little routine you’ve built up, typically, when you enter the cafe, you’re met with Gojo who surprises you with a different drink for the day (though, it’s always sweet for some reason). To your surprise, today was a bit different as you were met with one of his other coworkers when you walked in— Shoko Ieiri.

Long chestnut brown hair, similarly shaded yet tired eyes meeting yours, and a slight smile etched onto her face at the sight of you, you’d met her maybe once or twice before but you weren’t expecting to see her today.

“Heyy cutie,” She greets simply as you approach the counter. Ah, her voice is so sweet while she’s talking to you— you’re convinced it’s a requirement to be attractive in order to work at this cafe because so far everyone you’ve met is ridiculously hot.

You grace her with a smile, “Morning Shoko, you seem happier than normal…”

“I got out of workin’ late today by swapping shifts with Geto sooo, yeah, I guess you could say I’m happier than normal,” She explains, shrugging casually before tilting her head and narrowing her eyes at you, “Lemme guess, you’re here for Gojo?”

“I-, I mean… He texted me this morning telling me to come here earlier than normal so… yeah, actually,” You give her a sheepish little grin, glancing off to the side at how quickly she was able to see through you.

Nodding, Shoko gestures her head toward the back, “He’s in the storage room I think.”

Your brows pinch together, “…Am I allowed back there?”

“Girl, I don’t get paid enough to care,” She teases, chuckling a bit, “I’m sure you’ll be fine, go on.”

At that, you nod and then make your way around the counter. It was a bit weird for you to head further into the cafe like this, even though no one else aside from Shoko and Gojo was there. So as you passed Shoko and made your way to the back, you glanced at the woman once more with a look of worry.

To which she sent you a smile and gestured her hand for you to keep going. Then, you sighed and kept walking back, soon making a left that led to a small hallway with a few different rooms. One was a restroom, another a breakroom, and the last was the storage room.

You carefully approached the door to the storage room, which was cracked open, and pushed past it to enter. Your eyes were quickly met with Gojo’s back profile, his hands busy with something in front of himself and seeming as though he were looking through some kind of box.

He must’ve heard your footsteps because his voice is hitting your ears before you even get the chance to say anything, “Shoko I swear I was comin’ back out on just a second, I still can’t find my-,” He’s cut off by a pair of hands cupping his eyes from behind, to which Gojo freezes. “…You’re not Shoko, are you?”

You snort, “That’s such a cliche thing to say, oh my god…” Still keeping your hands over his eyes, you tilt your head and move to peak over his shoulder, “But since we’re bein’ cliche today, guess who?”

Gojo’s lips immediately curl into a smile, “Guess who, huh?”

“Mhmm,” You hum.

“Could you be that one cute girl who’s been comin’ in every day at around 8:13 am, perchance?” Gojo takes his ‘wild’ guess, his shoulders relaxing as the seconds of you being with him pass.

You giggle, “Did you really just say perchance?”

“I did,” Gojo utters suavely, “So, is my guess correct or should I be feeling uncomfortable that some random chick snuck back here and put her hands on me…?”

Giggle turning into a full-on laugh, you lift your hands off of his eyes and he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Your guess is correct, don’t worry,” You tell him as his gaze finally lands on you.

You think you can hear the faint thump in your heart as his face comes surprisingly close to yours due to the simple glance over his shoulder that you’d been peeking over.

Glancing right down at your lips for a split second, and then looking into your eyes, Gojo lets out a soft sigh, “Hi sweetheart.”

You gush, “Hi Satoru.”

He smelled maddeningly good, the space between you and him small and the eye contact almost intimate. Little did you know, Gojo was thinking the same thing as you— loving every second he got to inhale your sweet perfume.

“You look pretty today,” He suddenly compliments, voice lowering.

You quiet your voice to mimic his, “As do you.”

“Yeah?” Gojo starts lifting his hands out of the box he’d been digging in and then he turns his body to face you, tilting his head, “Y’think I’m pretty now?”

“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” You admit, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

The male pauses, eyes steady yet shameless to trail down your figure, “What’s so pretty about me, hm?” Gojo pries, leaning forward a little.

Playfully, you lift a hand to his chest to keep him from getting too close to you, “How about I answer that after you tell me why you wanted me to come here so early?” You divert as you raise a curious brow.

“Oh, no reason in particular, jus’ wanted to see you before I actually start working,” He explains while he glances down at your hand on his chest.

“Why?” You question further, eyes wide and as curious as ever.

Gojo gulps and suddenly avoids your gaze, something he’s only done a select number of times. From what you’ve picked up, it’s whenever you fluster him. “I can’t just want to see you?” He murmurs.

The hand on his chest shifts and you move to drag your finger against him, stepping forward ever so slightly, “Satoru… what’re you not telling me, hm?”

Your fingernail trails back up and stops where his heart is. You swear you feel it beating a million beats a minute and his breath hitches quietly. Gojo swallows thickly before moving his eyes to you again, “Uhm, well…” And he’s lost in your gaze all over again, especially as you tilt your head and bat your lashes at him. Brows tense, “There’s this-,” He clears his throat and shakes his head to snap out of his trance, “There’s this thing.”

“What thing?” You hum.

His voice gets lower, “This thing I wanted to… invite you to,” Gojo slowly gets out.

At that, both your eyes and your facial expression light up, “Really? What’s the ‘thing’ and when is it?”

He lets out a breath of air, seeming to have gotten something off of his chest with that, “You seem more excited about this than I thought you’d be…”

“I’m always excited when you invite me out somewhere,” You say with a slight laugh.

“Yeah but, it’s not… it’s not a casual hangout like we normally do,” Gojo sighs, moving to slip his hands into his pockets.

“Sooo…” You lean in, “What is it then?”

Gojo gulps yet again, “I-It’s this yearly thing my family does. Normally I take Suguru with me but last year my parents got on my ass about not bringing a date so…”

“Geto can’t be your date?”

“I-,” Gojo finally seems to lighten up, chuckling at your comment, “No, Suguru cannot be my date. I don’t want to take him as my date.”

You move to cross your arms, tilting your head as you stare at the man, “So then, you’re asking me out right now?”

“N-No,” He stammers, eyes widening at you for a split second before he watches the way your face twists into confusion.

“No?” You echo, raising a brow.

Gojo clears his throat and lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “Yes but no.”

“So what is this then, Satoru?” A slight smile starts to draw across your face as you notice how nervous he is about this— it’s almost cute, “Are you askin’ me out on a date or not-“

“I’m asking you to come as my date,” He tries his best to clarify but you’re still left confused.

You blink, “What’s the difference?”

Gojo takes a deep breath, “If I were to take you out it’d be a lot different than me inviting you to some stupid gala my prestigious ass family-“

“Did you just say gala??” Your head cocks back a little and your lashes bat excessively, shocked by what just came out of his mouth.

The man gulps and his gaze shies to the side, “…I did.”

You step forward a little and lean closer in an attempt to get him to look at you again, “Your family’s hosting a gala and you’re inviting me as your date??”

Gojo quickly shifts his eyes onto you again, taking note of your closeness and how brightly your eyes are gleaming, “Yeah?” He replies, furrowing his brows.

“I-,” You sigh and then smile, “Satoru why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

“B-Because you started making it seem like I’d be taking you on a date date and that’s not what this is-“

“Lemme guess then,” Cutting him off, you’re reminded of something you’ve done before. As such, you take a wild guess as to where this is going, “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend or something to get your parents off your ass for a night?”

Gojo blinks, “Uhm-, well, yes, actually. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

A sigh slips out of your mouth, “Again, why didn’t you just say that?”

He pouts and looks away, “I-I don’t know…”

“Satoru…” You utter, stepping closer yet again, there’s barely a foot of space between you and him now and you tip your torso toward him.

Gojo stares down at you, goosebumps unknowingly rising along his skin the longer he peers into those eyes of yours, “Hm?”

Almost innocently, “Do I make you nervous?” You ask, tone light and genuine. You truly weren’t trying to tease him but he may have seemed like you were anyway.

Especially with how he scoffs dramatically, “Pfft, you make me nervous?” Gojo laughs and looks away, “Y-You?” He unintentionally stutters.

You snort and go to mock him, “Y-Yeah, m-me.”

His casual expression returns and he rolls his eyes before settling them onto yours again, “You think you’re soo funny, huh?”

“A lil bit, yeah,” You reply cheekily.

Gojo mirrors your expression with a soft smile, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So I’ve been told,” You tease, “Anywho, when uh, when’s that gala of yours?”

The question makes him tense up where he stands and he tries to casually mumble out an answer, “Tonight…”

“T-Tonight?” You gasp, eyes going wide.

Gojo nods, “Mhm…”

You groan slightly before standing up straight, moving to pinch the bridge of your nose and shutting your eyes, “Why’d you wait til’ today to invite me?”

“I was nervous,” He admits honestly, grinning at how cute you look frustrated.

The second your eyes flutter open, he wipes the smile off of his face so you don’t catch him admiring you. Then, you raise a brow at him, “I thought you said I don’t make you nervous?”

Gojo lets off a little shrug, “I lied.”

You grin, “Right, and is there like a dress code I have to follow or…?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I can buy you something to wear if you want.” He offers.

That’s oddly kind of him, “Really?” You gape.

“Yeah ‘nd if we go right after I get off today I could even get a dress tailored for you if you want,” Gojo starts to think deeper about this, clearly having not planned this out before asking you.

“But the gala is tonight… How are you gonna-”

“I have my connections,” He chirps confidently.

“Mmmh,” Your eyes narrow at him for a mere second before you nod, “Alright then.”

His face brightens up, “So, you’ll go with me?”

“As your fake girlfriend to impress your family for a night?”

“Mhm.”

You nearly say yes but then, a thought begins to itch your brain and you can’t help but scratch, “Why didn’t you just ask Shoko or something-”

“I wanted to pretend to date someone I’m at least attracted to,” Gojo says as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

You giggle to yourself and your voice lowers, “Could’ve taken Geto if that was the case-”

“What? I am not-,” Gojo pauses as he notices you snickering. Then he sighs, “Listen, Suguru’s hot, sure, but I’m not interested in him in that kinda way.”

You chuckle, “Mhm, sure you aren’t-”

“I’m interested in you though.” Gojo abruptly blurts out.

Your breath and anything else you were going to say get caught right in the middle of your throat and you choke. Clearing your throat you turn your head to the side to avoid showing how much that caught you off guard. Your face feels as though it were burning and you didn’t even know what to say.

Gojo, finding such a reaction cute as hell, smiles and steps a bit closer to you, eliminating all distance between you and him, the tips of his feet touching yours. A gentle and almost hesitant hand is placed on your waist, making your entire body go rigid as his other hand goes to your chin, forcing you to face him and look him in the eye properly.

“You knew that already though,” He whispers.

It was almost as though the entire atmosphere between you and him had changed in a matter of seconds.

You gulp, “D-Did I?”

Gojo lifts a careful brow, “I talk to you every day and we flirt all the time, isn’t it obvious?”

“I mean, yeah but…” You stare back and forth between his left and right eye— fuck, that shade of blue is so mesmerizing. “You can’t just say it like that,” You murmur lightly.

He tilts his head tauntingly and it makes you nervous for some reason, “I can’t say I’m interested in you?”

Heart skipping a beat, your gaze flies to the side, “No…”

Gojo leans his head in the direction you’ve looked off to, “Why not, pretty girl?”

And it’s right then and there that all your nerves get caught up and you become a stuttering mess, “C-Cause… It’s-,” You stop yourself for a second and he’s still just watching you struggle. Then you try to meet his eyes again and speak but your voice ends up dying off again, “You’re… uhm…”

The corner of his lips twitched into a stupidly attractive smirk, “You nervous?” Gojo teases.

God, if the tone of his voice doesn’t make you want to melt away into nothingness at this very moment. All you can do is nod, “Mhm.”

“I’ve never seen you this nervous,” He comments, eyes trailing up and down your flustered expression. Gojo finds himself whispering a curse beneath his breath, “Fuck. S’kinda cute,” He teases.

You grit your teeth and swallow down your nervousness, trying your best to return to teasing him instead, “Don’t you have a job to get back to?” You utter to change the subject.

The two of you were maddingly close to one another, Gojo’s got a hand lightly on your waist, your chest is a hair away from touching his, and your faces… hell, you swear if you breathe too hard they’ll be touching.

“It can wait,” He murmurs.

You bat your eyelashes as your eyes remain elsewhere, “What for?”

Gojo whispers your name and you tense up, “Look at me,” He directs, making your heart throb. You’re slow to do so but when you do, the two of you pause and simply take in one another's closeness, “See this?” He nods his chin slightly at the little space between you and him.

You sigh, “What?”

“The tension between us,” Gojo explains, eyes lowering down to your lips, “I could never pull this kinda thing off with Shoko.”

A shy little smile spreads across your face, “Right…”

“Nor would I ever have such a strong desire to kiss her,” The man suddenly blurts out. You could tell he didn’t mean to say that out loud by the way his cheeks flushed ever so slightly and his gaze flicked up to your eyes as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

You maintain eye contact and your breathing finally seems to grow steady, “Are you saying you wanna kiss me?” Tempting, your tone was— leaving Gojo so ridiculously drawn to you.

His gaze is almost full of need, “Would you let me if I did?”

“Maybe,” You utter, tilting your head ever so slightly.

The two of you had been inching your faces closer and closer unknowingly, lips almost against one another with the way you’ve tipped your head to the side.

Gojo looks down at your mouth, “Well I do,” He breathes out, nearly forgetting to finish his statement, “Want to kiss you…” He then clears his throat, “I wanna kiss you, can I?”

Your eyes are just as low as his are, soft breaths hitting one another’s skin before you let out a hum, “Mhm.”

It’s right then that he pauses, almost as if he wasn’t sure you just answered him. In his head, surely this was a mere dream. There was no way the girl he’d met but a month ago was allowing him to kiss her. And yet, there you were, gazing just as longingly as he was, lips almost touching, hearts pounding in unison— an enigma you were, truly.

After his little moment, he finally leans in, shuts his eyes, and presses his lips against yours. The sound of you letting out a hum almost immediately makes Gojo want to swoon, another hand of his grabbing the vacant side of your waist and tugging you closer to him.

Your chest mashes into him and your arms are quick to move, sliding up and circling around his neck. Gojo’s lips twitch as he smiles against you and you feel his arms start to wrap around your waist, holding you nice and close. His lips were soft against yours, gentle, and slow as he took his time against you.

Your first time kissing Gojo being in the storage room of a cafe was quite laughable, really. Or at least, it would’ve been if things didn’t get heated rather after a bit.

At first, Gojo would just pull away slightly so both of you could breathe, barely open his eyes, and then smile before pressing his lips into yours again. This action was repeated a few times up until you took it upon yourself to part your lips over his, tugging his lower lip into your mouth and attempt pushing your tongue in.

His brows bush together at your action before his body begins to react. Stepping forward with you, Gojo slips his tongue out only to slide past yours and slither into your mouth instead of his. You nearly smiled at how he so clearly wanted to control the kiss, his hands shifting to explore your backside.

One of his hands slid up along your spine and the other dipped down to the small of your back, all as his tongue delved deep into your mouth and you released a slight noise that made his brain turn to mush.

Gojo steps forward with you again and his hand moves to your waist for a second before he starts playing with the edge of your shirt, fingertips just barely brushing over your bare skin. Your feet shuffle back as he begins to kiss you harder, more eagerly, up until your heel hits the edge of a door, prompting both of you to break away from the kiss.

A heavy pant is shared as your lips detach and a wet smack echoes into the air. Your eyes flutter open and you find Gojo still gazing down at your lips, refusing to look away.

You swallow and take a deep breath, “Satoru, we-“

The hand that was up along your spine is removed and Gojo pushes the door behind you shut. Then, all in one motion, he’s using the hand still on your waist to shove you back up against it, your breath getting caught in your throat all over again.

Your lashes flutter once more and you’re just standing there breathless with your mouth agape. Gojo, who’s yet to say a word, is panting so hard that it seems like he’s about to lose himself just from merely kissing you.

You go to whisper to him, “Satoru.”

He just nods, “Mhm…”

“We should… probably stop,” You suggest and you don’t miss how he grips onto your waist for a moment, his eyebrows twisting upward and lip poking out slightly.

“Stop?” Gojo whispers, barely lifting his eyes, “You want me to stop?”

You stare. Then, you look away, “Not really but, we should.”

The man’s got one arm practically above your head that’s still resting against the door, his other holding onto your waist, and his body right against yours. Your hands are loosely at his shoulders and you keep looking away from him, an action that’s genuinely driving him mad.

Gojo tilts his head toward where you’re looking off to and your eyes steadily find his.

“One more,” He whispers.

You blink, “One more?”

He’s nodding all eagerly and it’s kinda cute, “Uhuh.” Then Gojo leans in again.

“Fine but,” The man’s practically got his lips against yours as you try to finish speaking and you can’t help but smile, “…Don’t forget you have a job to go do.” You remind him in a sly whisper.

Gojo scoffs, “M’busy tryin’ to do you,” He utters boldly, “The job can wait.”

And then, his lips are on yours yet again. If his bold words just now didn’t have your body hot then it was definitely the way you feel his hard chest press against yours. God, you could only imagine every cut and crease of his muscles that lay beneath that flimsy shirt and apron of his.

Gojo’s busy tonguing your throat as you fantasize about what he looks like under all those clothes until he gets touchy again. That hand of his finally slips under your shirt and you jump at the contact of his warm veiny hand sliding against your bare side.

The faintest whine escapes the back of your throat and he doesn’t miss it for even a second. Tipping his head further to the side to really press into your mouth, Gojo pulls away for a split second just to whisper, “She’s sensitive,” He teases.

You hum at that but don’t get the chance to verbally reply before his moist lips connect with yours again. Gojo may be a shy idiot at times but you forget all about that while he’s kissing you, his hand sliding to your back again, fingertips caressing your skin before he pulls your body up against his and shifts a single leg in between yours.

Oh he knew what he was doing there. The way his thigh presses against your crotch tells you everything. And he knows his little movement was successful as he feels your hips shift forward against him, yearning for friction.

Gojo pulls back a little just to suck on your lower lip, then he moves to run his teeth over the skin and tug slightly, hearing the way you whine yet again. The arm that was caging you from above slips off of the door and Gojo latches that hand to your hip, guiding you forward against his leg.

Then, it happens. It was such a small sound, such a faint movement, but there you were— letting out a not-so-silent moan of his name, “Satoru,” You call out, not sure what for at this point.

The man just groans before his lips are all over yours, this time slipping off to the side of your mouth, trailing to your jaw, and moving right under your jawline as your head tips back.

“Drivin’ me crazy,” Gojo whispers against your skin, breath warm and ticklish, “Shit.”

Hot and open-mouthed kisses are decorating your neck and both of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady before he starts sliding his leg back and forth just a little bit.

You gasp and one of your hands flies down to his wrist, as if that would stop the movement of his leg. “W-Wait-, fuck, I thought…” You trail off a bit as he shifts his thigh and it suddenly presses against your clothed cunt all too perfectly— his leg was so muscular and the sudden pressure of him pressing against you had your legs weak. “Hahh… S-Satoru, you…”

He pries away from your neck, “Hm?” Gojo hums all innocently as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Gojo lifts his face to get a good look at your expression and fuck if it didn’t take every cell in his body for his cock not to spring up at that very second. Your eyes were all low, lips parted, breathing heavy, and eyebrows twisted up slightly— you were so clearly aroused and the man found it difficult not to savor this moment.

Encouraging this expression of yours, his leg starts moving back and forth against you and he eyes the way your jaw drops further and your torso pushes up, back arching a little.

“Satoru,” Oh the way your voice was all breathy and your eyes full of pure need had his head spinning.

Gojo licks his lips, “What? Y’wanna get off on my leg or somethin’?”

You shake your head, “N-No… I want you to, hah, stop.”

In an instant, almost like a trained dog, his leg just halts. Body freezing and eyes everywhere on you, Gojo looked as though he was awaiting your next order after that.

You take a moment to catch your breath before leaning your head forward and resting against his shoulder, “This was… we uhm… we were getting too… y’know.”

“No,” Gojo taunts, “I don’t know. Why’d you want me to stop, hm? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Your eyes go wide and you lift your head immediately, “No, you did the exact opposite.”

He has this smug look on his face, “Did I?”

Blinking, your eyes narrow at him, “Yes, you-“

“So why’d you stop me then?” Gojo interrupts.

You choke before clearing your throat, “B-Because we don’t have time to… continue this.”

He scoffs, cocking a brow, “Think so?”

“I know so,” You argue.

As always, he just peers down at you for a long moment, admiring every little thing about you. Then, he shrugs, “Y’know… I could’ve made you cum in a few minutes-“

You slap your hands over his mouth on instinct and your eyes go wide, “…I don’t need you to uh, do that.”

“Why?” His voice is muffled against your palm, “I know you’re turned on.”

“That doesn’t matter,” You argue as you slowly take your hands away, “We don’t have time.”

Gojo chuckles but he’s dead serious as he speaks, “Instead of all this talkin’, I could’ve been knuckle deep inside your pussy gettin’ you off like I know you want me to-“

“Jesus, Satoru,” You breathe, turning your head away from him in pure embarrassment due to the sudden throb in between your legs his words caused.

He pauses, watching how flustered his statement just made you. Then, he smirks, “We probably had enough time for me to get my tongue on you too-“

You frown, “Satoru.”

Gojo continues anyway, “Could’ve been on my knees in between your thighs right now, sweetheart.”

“I-“

“I promise you I’m an expert with my tongue,” He cuts off, staring you down like a man starved.

Gradually bringing yourself to look at him again, you swallow, “I’m sure you are but…”

“But?” His head weighs to the side curiously.

You shrug and nod your chin toward the surrounding area, “…In a storage room, seriously? Shoko’s literally right around the corner and you have to get back to work. We can’t do this.”

“We can, you just don’t want to,” Gojo clarifies.

“Later, Satoru. We can do�� this, later,” You result in saying, “A-And preferably somewhere else.”

For a second, he seems to want to plead otherwise but, you do make a good point. He doesn’t need anyone scolding him for getting distracted in the storage room. Sighing, “Promise?” Gojo asks.

You grin, “Yeah, I guess. I-,” You cut yourself off once you notice he’s moved to hold his pinky out for you. You chuckle, “Dork…”

Then, you lock your pinky with his and he flashes this giddy smile at you, dimples poking out once more. “Did you just call me a dork?” He gasps dramatically.

“I did,” You hum as the two of you start to peel off of one another.

Gojo puts on this fake pout, “S’not nice,” He mumbles.

You watch as he moves to open the storage room and smile at him, “But it’s true.”

At that, Gojo simply rolls his eyes and you exit the storage room with him following behind you. The two of you act as though nothing had really happened in there and casually go about your days afterward.

Although, mentally— both of you were gushing over what had just taken place. So much so that after you end up getting your drink of the day from Gojo and wave him and Shoko bye, he’s watching you in awe whilst you get further away from the cafe.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” Shoko blurts out suddenly, making Gojo snap out of his little reverie.

Brows furrowing, “Did you hear her moanin’?”

Shoko scoffs, “No.”

“There’s your answer then,” Gojo utters cockily as he turns away with a smirk on his face.

Both chuckle but in Shoko’s mind, the two of you definitely did something in that storage room. She no idiot and you’re not the first girl to have been brought to the back by Gojo. Though, you are the first that’s had him smiling ear to ear like that…

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Meanwhile, you’re practically skipping as you leave the cafe, taking the same path you usually do to head toward the nearby lot.

All you can do is replay everything that just happened, how cute Gojo was, the way he kept looking at you, the way he kissed you, touched you, held you, groaned against you-

Your face is getting hot the more you think about it and before you know it, you’ve got a smile all over your face. Hell, you almost forgot he invited you as his date to some family event of his. His family must be quite rich and important for them to be hosting some gala.

It makes you wonder whether or not you've ever heard of the Gojo family before him… Alas, with no recollection of such a name, you shrug off the thought and tell yourself you’ll learn more about them later tonight. You’re sure they’ll be just as sweet as Gojo. Maybe they’ll even-

So caught up in your thoughts, you walk right into someone, your head coming in contact with someone’s chest and feeling pain in seconds. Fuck, did you walk into a wall?

Lifting a hand to your forehead, you rub it slightly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to walk into-,” Your gaze lifts to the person and your facial expression drops, “Oh. It’s just you. Your chest is hard as hell…”

Choso bats his lashes at you in disbelief, “Thank you?”

You roll your eyes, “Not a compliment.”

He chuckles and tips his head to the side, watching you rub your skin to soothe the pain. On instinct, Choso lifts his hand, swats your fingers away, and shifts to help ease the pain himself, “Yeah it is, dumbass. Means’ goin’ to the gym has been paying off.” He argues.

You sigh and drop your hand, allowing him to massage where it hurts like it’s nothing, “Whatever-“

“Lemme guess, you jus’ came from seein’ your boyfriend?” Choso questions curiously.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You huff and his hand slides a bit to caress you, “But yes, I am coming from the cafe if that’s what you’re askin’. Where are you headed?”

“To get a coffee, duh,” Your best friend huffs. His voice completely contrasts how softly he’s touching you right now and it’s almost laughable.

You nod, “Uhuh, well, have fun.” The dismissiveness in your tone makes Choso feel weird.

After all, ever since you met Gojo, you’ve practically found yourself a new best friend. Even though you and Choso live in the same apartment, he swears he hasn’t been seeing or talking to you much within the past month and it’s odd for him to experience.

So, as you pull your head away from his hand and go to step past him, he’s blurting out, “Wait,” Without a second thought.

You pause and look at him, “Hm?”

“Uh,” Choso stares for a minute, forgetting why the hell he stopped you before he clears his throat, “You alright?”

Blinking, “Yes, why? Your chest wasn’t that hard, I just walked into you so-“

“No, I mean like, in general.” He explains, turning his body so that he’s facing you completely, “We haven’t talked much lately.”

That statement makes you freeze and you stare at your best friend with the most confused look ever. He’s not usually this concerned so, it’s almost weird to see, “I’m fine, Cho. Is everything okay with you?”

Almost like a little puppy, Choso nods his head, “Y-Yeah,” He’s quick to clear his throat and you may have imagined it but you swear the tips of his ears just went red, “Yeah, m’fine. I just uh… I dunno, miss talkin’ to my best friend, is all.”

You gasp overdramatically, “Do you??” Oh the teasing tone has him regretting what he just said in seconds, “Awww Chosoo, you miss me-“

“Don’t ruin it,” He cuts off, but you’re already moving to wrap your arms around his waist and hug him. Choso sighs and looks down at you embracing him, gulping, “Get off of me.”

You shift your head to look up at him and smile, “Hug me back first, don’t be weird. You’re the one who said you missed me-“

“I said I missed talking to you,” Choso huffs, not moving his arms in the slightest.

You frown, “Cho…”

“Stop calling me that,” He sighs, avoiding looking at your expression all of a sudden.

Rolling your eyes, you give up and start to pull away from him. Yet, your weirdo of a best friend finally moves to tug you back toward him, big arms wrapping around your head and pulling you into his chest gently. You chuckle against him and he grumbles something under his breath.

“We can talk after my class, okay?” You hum into his chest.

Choso nods, “Will you actually be home for once?”

“For a lil’ bit, yeah,” You snicker, “I actually have a lot to tell you but I’ll save it for after class, ‘kay?”

He looks down at you in his arms and you angle your head to look up at him. Choso’s expression is as unreadable as always but you’re smiling. As such, he just barely grins at you, “Alright.” He grumbles in that deep voice of his.

You beam and then pull off of him, to which he almost reluctantly lets you go. And then, his eyes drop to that drink in your hand and he nearly says something but he holds his tongue, instead moving to wave you bye whilst you turn away.

You return a wave of departure to him before walking off. Choso stands there for a while, watching you get further away from him. It was weird but, for the first time in a while, he was almost excited to talk to you later.

He wonders what it is you want to share with him, especially since you usually share everything with him but haven’t been doing so recently. Perhaps you were just too caught up with Gojo Satoru, Choso wonders to himself. At that thought, he sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes, stuffing his hands into his pockets and moving to continue his walk.

All Choso can do is hope that your becoming friends with Gojo hasn’t changed anything between you and him. After all, he’s the one who’s been by your side for nearly eight years…

With that, Choso chuckles at himself. The hell is he getting all worked up for? Clearly, based on that little hug and the smiles you gave, you still see him as your best friend. He’s not being replaced.

…Right?

Or was it just that you were only happy because of something that’d happened with Gojo? Scoffing, Choso tries to clear his head a bit. The fuck has gotten into him? It’s you he’s talking about here. Again, he’s not being replaced.

Or at least he thinks he’s not…

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