#i COULD use my left hand but it's out of practice and as implied by brace usage it is a little painful

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[joelsgreys]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

��Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[jamminvroomvroom]

adrenaline, baby.

ln x wife!reader

ahahaha i couldn’t help myself. wrote this at godspeed (20 mins) and i’m not even sorry. not my finest work but i could not care less this is peak brainrot (waving at you @lavenderlando). feral is the only word on my mind at this time. gg lando.

warnings: listen it’s porn with minimal plot. minors dni i am so serious!! 18+, smut, fluff, breeding kink, implied overstimulation, mentions of pregnancy, marriage, it’s just unhinged idk

your back couldn’t have hit the bed soon enough, touch starved bodies moulding into the cloud-like mattress. you’d waited all weekend to get him on top of you, and now that the stress of the race weekend had melted away, you’d been able to put the do not disturb sign to good use.

lando’s adrenaline rush had sent him feral.

he hadn’t stopped touching you since he’d been able to, practically dragging you through the mexican paddock, into the car, through the door of your hotel suite. he’d attended to his race duties and now lando had a wife to attend to.

six months of married bliss meant one thing: a lot of sex in a lot of places. you didn’t know how to keep you hands off of one another, proud of yourselves for making it behind closed doors this time. it meant you could take your time, that he could take you apart just how he liked to, and that’s what he did.

“c’mon, baby. need you nice and ready for me.” lando muttered into your neck, punctuating his words with a kiss below your ear. he had two fingers working in and out of you, curling deliciously against your walls. “did all of those overtakes, and then i did them again. now, m’gonna make you come for me again and again.”

he was a man, possessed.

a strangled cry tore from the back of your throat, zero regard for the neighbouring rooms as you fell apart, spasming into the white bed linen. lando didn’t stop, fucking you through the waves of pleasure until tears pricked your eyes and you were squirming away from him.

there wasn’t a second to recover, his curls tickling your thighs as he slotted between your legs, tongue lapping up the mess he’d just made. your ears were ringing, eyes squeezed shut, thrashing hard before your body dissolved completely under his touch. you couldn’t figure out where the pleasure started and where it ended, all you knew was that your second orgasm was approaching faster than lando has made up all those race positions.

“oh my god.” you repeated over and over like a prayer, blindly tipping over the edge, his tongue stroking your clit while his fingers coaxed you to your second release.

“i’m not done with you, baby. gonna fill you up again, just like you keep asking me to.” lando groaned, scaling up your body. you shuddered at his words, your body set on fire. it was a sort of given, at this point, that you were trying. or, to put it more accurately, not not trying. it did something to you, the idea of him letting loose, not a single barrier between your intertwined bodies, and he loved it as much as you did.

a litter of soothing kisses were placed up your throat, before he reached your lips, his own slotting over yours. it was messy, passionate, quiet whimpers being traded between you as he found his rightful place between your parted thighs. your legs were hooked over his hips, pulling him in, the tip of his cock painting over your folds. and then he was inside of you, slick bodies at one, and a switch in him flipped.

lando went deep, rocking into you like it was the last time. it definitely wouldn’t be. he could have left an imprint of your body in the mattress, holding you down as he ruined you. it was desperate, new urges unlocked in him since you’d started this new venture in the bedroom, no limits. you couldn’t keep up with him, letting him do all the work, just how he liked it. and you fucking loved it.

all you could do was clamp down on him, a beautiful mess at his mercy, his name chanted into the room. everything was hazy, nothing, there was only him and you. you arched into him, clawing at the bronzed, glowing skin of his lean back, eyes rolling in your skull at the way his muscles felt as they tensed under your touch.

“one more for me, baby, one more for now and i’ll give you what you want. gonna make me a daddy?” lando’s breath fanned your face as he spoke, watching with a smirk at the way you absolutely lost it.

you were sobbing when you came, the aftershocks continued by the way you felt him reach his own release. white heat pricked your skin and you collapsed even further into the bed, wrecked beneath him. you were grinning lazily, panting hard, eyes shut from the exhaustion. lando kissed away the tear tracks, residing inside you as you both came down from the high.

the air changed drastically, softer, intimate. he found your lips again, gentle this time, affectionate pecks reviving you.

“you okay, my love?” lando whispered. you breathed a laugh.

“you’re too good to me.” your voice was raspy, your vocal chords shot from a weekend of screaming his name in every possible context. “proud of you, honey.”

lando hummed softly, grateful for your praise. he scanned your face, an angelic glow gracing your features. his beautiful wife.

“gonna get you cleaned up.” he went to roll off of you, but your legs tightened around his waist.

“not yet. wanna stay like this for a minute.” your voice was laced with sleep, and lando couldn’t help but smile.

“this might have been the time, y’know.” lando’s words came out excitedly, unable to contain his delight at the idea of having a family. your family.

“and even if it wasn’t, i don’t mind the free practice.” you teased, but the giddy feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something, and so did the test you took four weeks later.

-

idk what came over me idk what happened lol. bye.

[arminsumi]

hi! I hope you're doing well, i always look foward to your work <3

can i request gojo and geto being protective over you

drink lots of water!

Promise — 約束

SatoSugu ⋅ fem reader

NOTE — so sweet !! thank you, i'm so happy you look forward to my works :) i hope u like what i made of this, the idea just kinda happened

WARNINGS — angst with fluff / comfort (it's not actually sad the boys are just distressed because you got hurt), implied injury / near-death experience (reader)

" THEY WHAT ?! ARE THEY OUT OF THEIR MINDS ?! " Satoru yelled like you had never seen him yell before. He was seething, eyes ablaze.

" This has to be a mistake... oh, angel, don't cry, come here. " Suguru talked to you soothingly.

You had come to them and told them the news through chokes and sniffles. It stung their hearts to see you so petrified.

An especially frightening mission had been assigned to you. Usually, these two overprotective boys tagged along with you or just did it themselves to save you the burden and pain of using your straining technique. But that wasn't an option this time, for some reason.

" I have a bone to pick. " Satoru grumbled, storming off violently.

Suguru had been practically cradling you in his arms to try and soothe your nerves.

" Satoru ! Don't do something rash — ah, shit, 'gotta go after that madman or he'll kill someone. Okay, you stay with Shoko, alright ? She's in the main hall by the vending machines. Relax. Satoru and I will sort everything out. Drink some water and rest — and no cigarettes with Shoko. "

So the boys went to complain to the higher ups, and though admittedly they were shaken up by Satoru's violently aggressive attitude, they didn't budge.

" ARE YOU ALL OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MINDS ?! "

" Satoru, calm down. " Suguru said. That's when Satoru finally calmed down.

" We're the strongest, let us take on this mission instead. " Suguru tried to reason.

Satoru's voice subtly shook when he spoke, residual anger lingering in his throat. His heart was beating heavily. " Y/n's weak. " he said. A harsh truth. " Too weak to take on a special-grade like that. "

Suguru tended to butter you up and call you strong, but Satoru was brutally truthful; you were much, much weaker than the both of them. Ever since they had met you, they felt this overwhelming urge to protect you with their lives.

Then they tried to convince the higher ups that you were " too weak " to do it. But they still didn't budge. In fact they glowered at the two students.

" You think I can't do it myself ! I'm a fucking god ! I could snap that thing in half with my fingertips ! " Satoru went into a sudden self-induced power trip, but Suguru stood besides him and silently agreed. Of course he could do it himself, he was Gojo Satoru.

Storming off again, Satoru left to go find you. And Suguru followed after his steps.

" Shoko ? Where did Y/n go ? She was supposed to be with you. "

" . . . uh, she walked right past me earlier and when I asked where she was headed, she said something about Roppongi ? " Shoko had her head in her hands and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

" God fucking damn it, that idiot. " Satoru's heart panged with worry.

" Save some limbs for me to rip off. " Suguru joked.

" Let's go get her. " Suguru said.

" I swear to fuck . . . I'll fucking rip that thing to limb by limb if it even so much as grazes her skin. " Satoru seethed.

" You two are gonna get reprimanded for this, you know. "

Satoru waved his hand dismissively and left with Suguru.

You were in the midst of battle, bleeding and panting. Covering your ears, you were just about to succumb to your paralyzing fear when suddenly your two saviors sliced right into the scene. You caught a glimpse of the most feral, raw look in Satoru's eyes; pure vengeance, it was almost artful how he pulled apart the cursed spirit.

" Angel, it's okay now, We're here. " Suguru comforted you, lifting your limp body and holding it like a baby. " You did good. Don't try to move, you must be in a lot of pain. I've got you, don't worry. Oh — Satoru, that was quick. Are you trying to show off for her ? Just teasing. "

You listened to the lullaby-like voice of Suguru and let your eyes flutter shut. The last image in your vision was that of a panting, blue-eyed boy who looked so startled to see you in poor condition. He looked about ready to cry.

Their voices sounded like distant echoes to you as you drifted into a half-conscious state, leaning more on the unconscious side.

" . . . I could kill those old fucks right now. "

" Satoru, calm down. She's going to be alright. Let's just get her to Shoko. "

" I hate seeing her like this. "

" Me too. But she'll be okay. "

" Angel, still with us ? Satoru, just breathe. She's really going to be okay. Don't cry or you'll make me cry, too. "

" Sh-she's so damn stubborn. Stubborn a—nd st-stupid. Why'd you run off by yourself like that. Y-you stupid weakling . . . "

You could hear Satoru distantly crying, and he didn't stop until after Shoko tended to you. The boys kept close, soothingly stroking your arms and cheeks to keep you conscious.

Nothing can explain the relief they felt when they saw you stirring-to again.

" Hey, sleepyhead. " Suguru's tender smile was the first thing you saw.

Satoru's lips were parted, his face paler than ever. He looked so relieved and yet shocked to the bone, like he'd just gone through the worst day of his life.

" Welcome back to the land of the living. " Shoko greeted, cleaning up the blood on your cheek. " You know, you made the boys cry. Satoru even had a snotty nose like a little kid. "

" Shut up . . . "

Satoru heard how dry your throat was when you spoke, and promptly shoved his half-full water bottle in your face, hastily drying his eyes on his uniform sleeve. Like the in-sync duo they were, they worked together to help you drink; Suguru held the back of your head, and Satoru tilted the water bottle into your mouth. Of course he spilled a bit, two rivulets of water went down either side of your jawline and tickled your neck.

" . . . was just . . . trying to show you two . . . that I'm not weak . . . but I guess I am. I'm Sorry. " you choked, voice barely above a whisper.

Their hearts sunk deep.

" You're not weak . . . " Satoru choked up too, eyes only recently dried of tears and yet fresh ones began tipping over his bottom lid, wetting his angelic lashes. " You're not weak, I'm sorry I say that all the time. I shouldn't have . . . I just . . . would rather convince you you're weak so you'll call on us all the time, 'n n-never r—r-risk los—ing y—ou. " he suddenly sobbed at the end, realizing how deeply he cared for you.

Suguru was on the verge of tears, too, because of the sight of his best friend sobbing like a hurt puppy and also because of what he had just said.

" . . . don't cry, you two. A—ahah, Sh-Shoko don't you cry with them ! Or I'm gonna cr—yh. "

" Very graceful, Satoru. " Suguru joked.

" . . . thanks. " you thanked them.

" Don't say thank you. "

You could barely make out the complicated sentence that Suguru said next, it was something like;

" You'll never be undeserving of our protection. " and " So never say thank you. "

That day, they didn't just promise to keep you safe, they vowed it. Weak or not, strengthened or not, they felt compelled to be at your side.

Through the long passage of time, they never break their vow to keep you safe, even when Satoru and Suguru part paths. You're never an enemy to either of them, you're always their baby.

It's a tough reality to accept that one of your closest friends has become a murderous cult leader, and the other has become a lonely god. But they still visit you. Sometimes you three will hang out altogether in secret — so risky, but worth it, to see the two of them smiling with you even though you had very few things to smile about during your adulthood.

The sweet, comforting feeling of the adolescent memories made with them carries through all the years.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[julysn]

my daddy said the devil looks a lot like you

francis mosses / milkman x fem!reader. nsfw

includes praise, implied chubby reader (it’s mentioned once), breeding! milk as lube, mention of pregnancy, pure and unfiltered smut. it’s as smutty as can be.

read on ao3

wc: ≈1330

song: the edge of heaven - wham!

notes: wrote this while i was at school. erm. oopsie..

title is from the edge of heaven ! anyways.

You never thought you’d find yourself in a situation like this.

But you certainly weren’t complaining.

There you were, back pressed against the wall as your tongue swirled around the resident milkman’s mouth. You wanted to explore every single crevice within, memorize the little imperfections that structured him beautifully.

“Milkman..” You gasped out breathlessly as he pulled away, giving you a second to relax as his ministrations continued on the lower part of your body. His cold, calloused fingers began to gently rub your clothed clit, causing high-pitched yet deeply soulful moans to escape your lips.

“Shh,” He coos, his free hand coming up to place a finger against your mouth in a shushing manner. You reluctantly bit back soft whimpers. You practically melted into his touch, wanting nothing but to obey each and every command he may give you. His voice was just oh-so dulcet and velvety, like a lullaby to your ears that you never wanted to let go of. “Just call me Francis, darling.”

And so, you forced your whimpers to come out as quietly as possible as the milkman, or, Francis slowly tugged your lovely skirt down, revealing the elegant pair of panties you donned. He licked his lips softly, giving your hips a little squeeze as he led you over to the couch.

You sat down, watching as Francis loomed over you as a tall and imposing figure. He slowly kneeled in between your legs, leaving gentle yet sensual kisses down from your thighs all the way up to your wet clit. Your lips parted to let out faint gasps and whines as he did so, your eyes drifting down to meet his seductive gaze.

“Francisfrancisfrancis, ah..” You babbled mindlessly, throwing your head back as his tongue began to swirl circles around your sensitive wetness. He was quite elegant and composed, even during moments when passion and lust were meant to take over your consciousness.

Your back arched forward, head buried within the sobering solace of your couch cushions as the milkman’s ministrations began to accelerate in both speed and intensity. He slowly stood up, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants to reveal his completely erect cock, positioning himself in front of your cunt.

A loud. whiny gasp escaped your lips as Francis began to slick his hardened, dripping-with-pre-cum member up and down your clit as you threw your hand over your mouth and allowed your eyes to roll back. You couldn’t believe that your neighborhood milkman, a man supposed to be innocuous, could make you feel as good as this.

A part of you was wondering if he had seduced the other women in your neighborhood and done the same to them, but it didn’t matter to you. He was putting his experience to good use.

“Are you ready?” Francis asks softly, head tilted lightly as his hands gently squeezed and fondled your chubby hips. The abyss of pleasure he had thrown you down left you a bit dazed, so it took you a few seconds before you nodded in affirmation.

He turned away, pulling out a bottle of milk and pouring some into his hand as he began to rub it all over his shaft. He can’t be- no, he was using milk as lubricant. You blinked, watching in a mix of excitement and bewilderment as he smeared the white liquid all over his large cock, making his veins glisten with anticipation and sensuality.

“Is.. is that milk?!”

“Mmhm. Can you turn over and lay on your stomach?”

You nod, flipping over laying down on the couch as your hands latched onto a pillow and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“Good girl,” Francis coos as he began to gradually slide himself inside of you from behind, his shaft beginning to fill your insides as he steadily held onto your hips to keep you from squirming around too much. The sensation was quite the thrilling one, and the taboo of getting “down and dirty” with the milkman was exciting you even more.

“Francis-!” You gasped out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the brunette began to pump his hips into yours, seemingly going deeper and deeper with every thrust. You weren’t sure if it was just the ecstasy of the ordeal confusing you, or if he was getting more aggressive, but you certainly weren’t complaining. His size was quite.. impressive, and it was definitely helping your pleasure levels.

“You’re doing good, princess.” Francis praised, smirking coyly. He continued to thrust into you, letting out deep grunts and groans that were a symphony of lust for your ears. His hands gripped your hips, occasionally sliding down to your butt to give your cheeks a little squeeze of both affection and ardor.

“What if you get me pregnant?” You ask breathlessly, the pounding of his hips into your soft ass sending you to the edge of heaven as you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with lust and lechery, nothing more to show that his attention was completely focused on pleasuring you.

“We’d have a bastard child,” He says calmly, shrugging lightly as if it was nothing but a regular day for him. You wondered if it was a regular day for him, to just casually seduce and probably impregnate the women he delivered milk to. Your thoughts washed away as he thrust harder and harder, one hand sliding upwards from gripping your hips to getting itself tangled within your soft locks. “But I’d marry you before anyone finds out.”

His reassuring words and tone would’ve calmed you down had it not been for the fact that the two of you were actively engaging in intercourse at the moment. The feeling of Francis sliding in and out of your sensitive opening from behind was clouding your senses, and hell, clouding your vision too. Your eyes were hazy as you could barely make out the outline of your television, but it was fine. This felt perfect.

Would it be improper to say that you were getting the milkman’s milk?

And would it be even worse to say that you were enjoying each and every second his dick slid in and out of you?

“So, so good..” You mumble into the pillow, panting as pearls of sweat dripped down your forehead and slid onto the cloth of the pillow you were grasping onto. His hips continued to slam into your rear as his fingers gripped your strands of hair tightly, almost pulling them out had it not been for his restraint and slight fear of hurting you.

“You’re taking it well.” Francis comments, moving his hand from your scalp down to your jawline as he gently tilted you to look back at him. Your soft, alluring gaze met his more seductive and lustful one as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as your tongues battled in a war of passion and lasciviousity.

“This is.. quite indecent,” You murmured against his lips as you leaned into yet another kiss from him, that simple kiss quickly morphing into a heavy make-out session. Once he finally pulled away, giving your cheeks a soft slap, you moaned louder as his thrusts began to accelerate again.

“Mm.. `m gonna cum soon, babygirl,” He pants out, lifting a hand to wipe away the sweat dotting his hairline as he finally takes his hat off and tosses it aside, revealing his soft brown locks that were tousled and messy. You moaned, realizing that you were close to also tipping off of the edge of heaven as well.

Before you could warn him, the two of you reached your climaxes, his cum filling your insides as your fingernails dug into the pillow and you screamed. It was one of the most pleasuring sensations imaginable, but any coherent thoughts were washed aside by the ecstasy of finally reaching your peak.

“Would you like to go for another round?”

And you immediately nod in affirmation.

[bigfatbimbo]

the vees (individually or together) with a reader who plays guitar/an instrument? i love your vees x dom reader series!

The Vees x Musician Reader Headcanons —

a/n — This is SO ME. Quick lore drop, I’ve played guitar and piano for about 6 years !!

warnings — very suggestive, the vees are horny little shits, technically didn’t clarify and instrument but guitar is kinda implied, also dom reader implied

summary — The Vees with a reader who plays an instrument.

Vox would be very enthusiastic about your talent. The main reasons being that he can capitalize the hell out of it, and it’s incredibly hot to him. 

He would definitely offer, many, many times, to have you perform on air in front of an audience. He could get you into countless Voxtek talk shows, and game shows, all to have you perform. 

And yes, this does mean he gets to watch you play your instrument. Seeing your fingers move so fast, so gracefully, so precisely on beat, it definitely fucks with his head. He absolutely watches you practice on camera. And he is VERY SOCCER MOM LEVEL INVESTED in all of your performances, think episode eight Vox. 

Also, Vox canonically plays electric guitar. However, in recent years, with being a huge CEO, he hasn’t had much time for his hobby. So maybe you drag him off his ass and encourage him to play with you. He honestly forgot how much he enjoys it.

Velvette would probably have similar feelings to Vox. Like she would absolutely use your gift to her advantage. 

She would literally make you do music for her fashion shows. Live music just gives it an extra flare, and it’s especially fun for her to watch you indulge in your very attractive talent. 

Watching you have that much focus and put so much soul into something would literally get her going so fast. Like she doesn’t wait five seconds after the show to pull you away from the crowd and make out with you.

She would definitely request songs for you to play, just in every day life. Like pretty randomly too; she’d hear a song on tiktok and look over and be like, “Can you play that? Try.” 

Valentino would be very unapologetic in how horny your skillset makes him. Like it would be very unfortunate anytime he’s around and you’re playing.

He’d be all up on you, tracing his fingers up and down your back while you attempt to keep focus on your instrument. He’s making remarks the entire time, “Wow, you’re so talented with your hands, y/n. What else can they do?”

Also, yeah he’d attempt to have to play music for his pornos but… he gets very distracted and filming gets cut short. It happens every time, and yes, it is INCREDIBLY annoying and uncomfortable for you and everyone else.

If he heard someone say literally anything bad about the way you played, he would literally shoot whoever said it. Like on the spot, no thoughts, just boom. 

All the Vees would be all over you, if we’re going with my collective dom reader au. Like they’d go see you perform, and just bombard you with attention afterwards. 

Yes, they all got you different flowers and yes, before they compliment your performance they need to know who’s is your favorite. But then they are complimenting you left and right, it’s honestly probably overwhelming. But the thought is nice.

Well, usually. Sometimes the thought is who can get fucked by you first while you’re all sweaty and hyped up on adrenaline from the crowd. 

But they would literally have like front row seats, and be shouting out at anything mildly impressive riff you play. 

And if you play a love song, they’re all arguing about who that was directed at because they are all very convinced it’s themselves. 

other Vees content here, here, and here !

Also plugging my ao3 account. If you like chaggie and music, you’ll like the fic i’m working on. I’m right here, for future reference.

[wonwoosstuff]

wonwoo x f.reader; just them having a sexy time as a couple (established relationship); 18+

“Hm, you like that don’t you, sweetheart?” you whispered seductively in your boyfriend’s ear, gently cupping his face with your hands.

The two of you do not even remember how you’ve gotten to this point. Somehow you’re suddenly sitting on Wonwoo’s lap straddling him on your soft couch.

Tonight was one of those nights where Wonwoo planed on taking things slow. The mood of the living room— with having no lights on besides the couch lamp that illuminated the two of you— took the romantic atmosphere to another level.

Simultaneously the opened window blew a soft but cooling night breeze into the room causing you to shiver. The slow make out session was interrupted by your complaint:

“Wonu~can we please close the window? It’s really cold in here.”

A brief moment of silence. You looked at him with confusion.

“Wonwoo?”

“Let’s get you warmed up then.” He answered unhinged. Yet, these simple words created a mess of butterflies in your stomach.

Your boyfriend swiftly grabbed your waist and laid you softly down on the couch facing you contemporaneously. You drooled over the way he took off his shirt rapidly, then taking off his glasses to exempt you from getting hurt. The sight of a shirtless, well-built and shoulder-rich Wonwoo made your jaw slightly drop. Something about his movements were just so— breathtaking and sexy— even if these are considered normal in society.

You quickly looked away from him not expecting him to grab your jaw to make you face him directly.

“I want you to focus on me, love.” His fox-like gaze pierced through you. Wonwoo made sure that your eyes were not leaving his. Keeping eye contact during sexual intercourse was his one and only priority.

“Ugh, I can’t do this. You’re j-just so—“

“So?” He raised his eyebrow curiously.

“So intimidating and sexy” the last part of your sentence was mumbled however your boyfriend still heard it. Wonwoo’s reaction to your little confession was a smile followed by a deep chuckle. “Cute” was the last comment that he left on your shameless confession before connecting your lips with his.

The man continued to kiss you passionately as he put his arms steadily next to your head to support his weight. Wonwoo practically caged you into his trap. Nobody would even think that you were lying under him— that’s how wide his shoulders reached.

He began making his way slowly to your chest pulling your Tshirt up to reveal a better view of your breasts. To be more frank, all you had on were panties. Walking around with a bra was in fact very uncomfortable.

“I can’t believe you’re all mine, love.” He admired while pecking your cleavage.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you not going to take my shirt off?” You asked while looking up your boyfriend.

Wonwoo left a smooch on your belly button and answered: “Later, babe, later.”

You nodded and were curious about his upcoming plans. The first part of the plan was massaging your boobs. He was utterly skilled with his fingers due to his gaming abilities. So he used them as nipple torture.

————————————————————————

Your boyfriend had your legs laying on his shoulders for the past 30 minutes. He didn’t show any mercy and pounded into your arousal senseless. To support yourself you found your way to his hands intertwining your fingers with his fingers.

Your fucked out and flushing face turned him on making him go harder on you. Keeping up with Wonwoo’s pace was difficult, almost impossible.

He had one hell of stamina.

Wonwoo hasn’t really been moaning much — unlike you— instead he preferred to keep his calm and bite his lips to focus on hitting your g-spot perfectly.

“Ugh—W-Wonwoo— I can’t do this anymore, p-please spare me.” You could barely speak to him.

All you could see was a blurry silhouette of your boyfriend— that’s how good he made you feel.

“Oh yes, princess, you can.” He implied with his deep voice while also letting go of your hands.

“You look so hot like this.” A comment he wanted to share hours ago. Now he finally said it.

Wonwoo pulled you closer by your ankles to get deeper access to your g-spot — and it worked.

“Does this make you feel good, darling?”

“Mhm, y-yes!” you replied while moaning helplessly.

Wonwoo pecking your ankles while smirking at you was your last straw. He knew it turned you on.

He knew all of your weaknesses.

However your biggest weakness was your boyfriend getting to close to you and your ear.

And today seemed like your lucky day. He still was focused on thrusting harshly into you but leaned forward to meet your gaze directly. This resulted into you looking away quickly to not meet your boyfriend’s seductive gaze.

“Will you focus on your man, hm? Trust me, you don’t want me to turn this into a punishment.” He said while grabbing your jaw once again.

You began to hold onto his shoulders since his thrusting became sloppier. Still, it was hard to keep the eye contact.

“Are you warm enough, love?” He asked softly making you smile.

©️ wonwoosstuff do not copy or translate!

[muddyorbsblr]

onyx pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Thor's return to the Compound reveals that your new pet kitten wasn't quite what you thought he was

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language (it's like 2 cuss words but i'm still not sorry, Rogers); the lightest sprinkle of angst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: himbo Thor hours

You couldn't believe what you were hearing from Thor. Implying that the sweet tiny kitten on your shoulder was actually the god that wouldn't even spare you a single glance sideways. The one that barely even registered that you existed.

"Thor no. It can't be. This little bub is small and baking biscuits on my cheek. He purrs. He's cat-shaped. Onyx is a cat. He's my cat. And right now you're scaring him being all up in his face like this. I say this with so much love…Thunder? Back the fuck off." Your kitten shivered even harder as he snuggled into your neck, keeping his little face buried in your hair.

"Lady Y/N, I know my brother's eyes anywhere. Especially after he disguised himself as a snake when we were merely eight years old and--"

"Changed back and stabbed you. Bleh it's me. I know the story, Thunder," you finished for him, suddenly exceedingly aware of the weight of maybe-Onyx-maybe-Loki on your shoulder despite the tiny feline frame. "But I'm telling you there's just no way that my cat is--"

You looked into Onyx's eyes and immediately your shoulders dropped, realizing that it wasn't a coincidence that his eyes were a familiar shade of blue. Thor was right; he knew his brother's eyes anywhere. The kitten embraced your face, pressing his nose to your cheek repeatedly.

"Onyx, look at me." He stilled against your cheek, his wide pleading eyes looking into yours with something that looked akin to resignation. "You were hissing at FRIDAY and Shaun about getting chipped because you understood everything we were saying. Am I right?" He didn't move, the pupils in his eyes growing wider and the corners of his eyes starting to fill with tears. "Because you're Loki?"

He took a deep breath, this little chest puffing up with air and suddenly looking significantly less cat-like than he did a minute ago. Onyx -- actually, Loki -- pressed his face to your cheek again, the action now making your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Then finally he nodded,  and the air left your lungs.

You walked over to  your apartment, Thor's heavy footsteps following just behind you, and placed Onyx/Loki on your desk in front of a notepad and a pen. "Talk." He looked up at you again with those wide pleading eyes. "Please," you added, unsure of what to feel now that the last few hours you spent with your newfound pet was being colored with the context of who he actually was.

Too many thoughts, too many questions, floated around your head, nearly overwhelming you, as your last round of pain meds began to wear off and the discomfort you were feeling gradually became a throbbing pulsating sensation throughout your left side.

Most of them revolving around why he acted the way that he did in this tiny form with you, and how long this could have gone on if Thor hadn't revealed his identity within ten seconds of seeing him. The blond god pulled out a chair for you to read along as Loki's green magic surrounded the pen and words began to form on the paper.

I made a misstep while practicing my magic and cast a spell that turned me into this diminutive feline form. I had exited my quarters earlier today to find assistance in retrieving the spell I require to reverse its effects.

"Hold on." The pen stopped mid-stroke, the cat looking at you with your hand held up. "If you can make things move with your mind, why couldn't you just get the spell book--"

"Grimoire," Thor corrected you. "He gets a bit testy when you use the other word."

"Right then, why couldn't you just move the grimoire down and reverse the spell on your own?" The pen lifted again, you and his brother crowding around the paper to read his answer.

When I scale down my form to something so vulnerable, my magic is not as potent. In theory the grimoire is only just at the limit of my powers' reach in this form and I run the risk of crushing myself with the tome.

"Loki, are you telling me you need help reaching the top shelf?" Thor chortled at the question, sounding like he was struggling to keep his chuckles at bay. "Can it, Thunder, it's not that funny." The cat nodded at you, starting to stand on his back legs again. "Okay, so why not ask your brother? He's way taller than me."

"Oh that I can answer for him, Lady Y/N," he quipped, raising his own hand up in the air. "My brother doesn't trust me around his possessions. Something about how I have a tendency to break his things."

"You know what, that tracks," you muttered, standing and presenting the kitten your hand. "Come on then, let's get you back to normal." He hopped onto your hand and you were about to put him on your shoulder before you stopped, keeping him perched on your hands instead. He meowed at you, starting to climb up your arm before you picked him up again, keeping him in your hands.

"Think my brother wants to be on your shoulder, Lady Y/N. Seemed quite comfortable there," Thor spoke up, letting out a soft chuckle when the kitten started nodding enthusiastically, agreeing with him. "Perhaps you should--"

"I let him stay there earlier because he was my cat," you shot back. "Now he's your brother, it's not the same thing." He whimpered, his little cat body shaking in your hands, taking every ounce of strength you could spare not to give in and just place him back there. He kneaded at your palms the entire way to his apartment, Thor carrying around your stepping stool.

You all got to Loki's study, setting him down on the desk as he guided you to the grimoire he needed, shaking his head at each tome on the shelf that you'd pointed at so far.

"My word, Brother, your attention to detail in these sketches is remarkable, you even got--" Loki hissed at his brother, who was currently standing by a stack of journals, a small sketchbook in his hand. "Alright alright I desist. I shall take my leave. You shall be the one to divulge this information once you are yourself again."

The blond Asgardian's heavy footsteps sounded throughout the apartment until he left, then a few moments afterward you faintly heard his booming voice as he rejoined the rest of the team. You pointed at another grimoire that finally had him nodding his little head, stepping aside on the desk to make room for you to set it down.

"Okay then," you spoke up once you stepped back down to the ground, suddenly feeling more awkward as you stood alone with him in his apartment. "I'll uhh…I'll leave you to it."

You made it to the door of his study before you heard his tiny meow again, seeing him standing on his back legs at the edge of his desk, grabby hands outstretched towards you.

"I'll see you when you're…you again. Later, Loki." The sound of his little meows tugged at your heartstrings, nearly making you turn around and…honestly you didn't even know why he'd want you there with him but you'd stay if only to wipe the sad look from his face. You couldn't deny the adorable little cat much anyways in the hours he was yours.

Then again, you probably couldn't deny him anything in his Asgardian form, either.

An hour after you walked out of Loki's apartment you were hobbling your way back to yours, having eaten enough to take your next round of medications and toting a compound that Banner whipped up in his lab that could maybe help your injuries heal a touch faster. You had half a mind to just cut the sweatshirt off of you once you got inside to avoid the lingering discomfort, but ultimately decided against it.

That wasn't a good enough reason to let a perfectly good forest green sweatshirt go to waste.

You were about to start using the compound on your ribs first when a voice stopped you. "Darling…"

That voice. You recognized that voice anywhere. Giving you butterflies whenever you heard it in mission briefings. Haunting your vivid fantasies regardless of the time or appropriateness. The voice that had you incapable of forming words on any other day.

"Good to see you back," you said, trying to keep your composure around the god.

You reached for your sweatshirt again to cover yourself from his piercing stormy gaze, but before you could, he stood before you, his hand gently grasping your arm while the other rested on your waist. "I received a message from my brother while I was in my feline form, asking if I could check on your injuries. Aid in your healing somehow, if I feel inclined. His words, not mine." Your breath hitched when his thumbs stroked at your skin more tenderly than any of your former lovers had ever touched you. "I would have done it regardless."

Your pulse was thumping in your ears from his proximity, from the way he held your gaze. From the way he held you like he was fighting every urge to pull you to him. Like he would let you step out of it if that was what you wanted.

But all you wanted at the moment was to ask him, "Why didn't you tell me who you were the second you saw me in the pantry?"

The journal Thor was holding earlier materialized on your desk, diverting your attention to the open page. Probably the page that he was commending earlier that made the raven-haired god hiss at him in cat form. The image on the page had the air leave your lungs.

It was a sketch of you.

"My refusal to look at you before was not from disdain, little mortal," he spoke, taking a step closer to you, his hand traveling up your arm and framing your face. You could feel his breath on  your skin. "It was because every time I would look upon your features, I had to fight back every compulsion to do this."

He tucked his finger under your chin, turning you to face him before pressing a tender kiss to your lips that had you weakening in his hold, your stomach violently fluttering as his lips moved against yours. You whimpered against his lips, making him pull you into his arms, weaving his fingers into your hair.

"I've longed for you, precious mortal," he whispered once he pulled away, pressing kisses along the side of your face while you caught your breath. "To know the taste of your lips on mine. The feel of your supple body pressed against me." He kissed you again, lifting you off your feet and carrying you deeper into your apartment. Into your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed, briefly licking into your mouth before pulling away, making light wash over the room with a wave of his hand. "May I heal you, darling?"

Words failed you at the sight of him hovering over you, eyes wide and pleading as he looked on at the bruises and cuts that colored the left side of your torso. You wordlessly nodded your head to grant him the permission he needed to go forward, giving you a soft smile before he leaned down and pressed his lips to your bruises.

"Much better," he breathed out, nipping at your skin before moving his hands down to the waistband of your leggings, lips traveling down to your thigh and kissing you over the fabric. "Once I have seen to your injuries, you should know that I have every intention to make you mine." He kissed you just below your belly button, humming against your skin as you squirmed underneath him, deft hands working the tight fabric down your legs. "If you wish to be, that is."

"I do," you gasped out, ceasing to give a flying fuck how desperate and wanton you sounded at the moment. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."

He smiled against your skin, kissing away at the injuries you sustained on your left leg before making his way back up your body. "You've no idea how delighted I am to hear those words from you, my darling." You felt what remained of your clothing melting away along with his, your moan when skin met skin muffled by him slanting his mouth over yours.

You woke up the next morning to the feel of Loki's nose brushing against yours, pressing kisses along your face until you let out a soft giggle from his attentions. "Good morning, sweetheart."

Your response had him running his fingers along your sides, turning you into a squirming giggling mess as you tried to wrestle your way out of his hold. "Good morning, Onyx."

A/N: I heavily debated w/ myself if I was gonna put smut in this but ultimately decided not to because it's a fluff story and I wanted it to stay a full fluff story 🥴 Just know that he did, in fact, give her plenty a mango ride 😏😏

This is probs the last story I'll post for 2023, so I'm gonna wish you all a Happy New Year and here's to the whorish insanity we'll all get up to in 2024. I have a whole lot planned out, starting with more horny bitches cuts and…a certain celebration I've been putting off because I'm drowning in a sea of WIPs 😂

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

[scarletsknight]

patience

wc: 2.7k

paring: eddie x fem!reader

cw: 18+ mdni!!, smut, soft dom!eddie, established relationship, mentions of marijuana use, thigh riding, spanking, masturbation (reader receiving), pussy slapping, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, praising, degradation, spitting, finger sucking, pet names, oral sex (receiving), sex while under the influence, unprotected sex, pwp, implied aftercare

a/n: this was inspired by an audio i found on twt a few weeks ago so..enjoy 😁

You've lost count of how much you've smoked at this point. You also lost track of time, not realizing the sun had long gone down.

Hours have gone by, and the two of you have barely left the bed, stuck in a continuous cycle of smoking and fucking.

Eddie's lips feel so good against yours, you can't get enough. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging his head back and deepening the kiss. You feel Eddie's fingernails dig into your skin, scratching down your thighs, making you moan into his mouth.

Eddie's hands started roaming all over your body. Goosebumps rose on your skin from the rings on his fingers when he slipped his hands under the shirt you were wearing. His fingers found your sensitive nipples, rolling them under the pads of his thumbs before tugging on them.

You bite down on Eddie's lip with a whimper and he laughs.

"What's the matter, princess?"

"I'm so fucking wet," you whisper against his lips while subconsciously rutting your hips against his thigh.

You weren't sure if it was all the weed you smoked or the number of times Eddie's made you cum today, but all you could think about was him touching you.

"Yeah, baby?" he placed his hands on your ass, starting to direct your movements, "You want me to do something about that?"

"Please.." your voice dies when he flexes his thigh, the denim from his jeans rubbing against your clothed clit just right.

Eddie crashed his lips into yours, swallowing your moans. Eddie's hand landed on your ass with a loud smack, and you whined into his mouth, clenching your thighs around his.

"Dirty fucking girl, riding my thigh like this," Eddie panted against your lips, "you're so fucking hot." he smacked your ass again.

"Eddie, please-"

Then the phone started ringing.

Eddie seemed to ignore the annoying ring, but your high couldn't help but lead you to overthink.

"Eds, the phone."

"I know, sweetheart. But you're close, aren't you?"

You bite your lip, unsure to answer the question because Eddie puts your needs above all else.

"What if it's your uncle? It could be an emergency."

"Always such a considerate angel," he caressed your cheek before you moved out of his lap and let him get up.

You aren't upset about your lost orgasm, knowing Eddie would make up for it at least three times over.

He walks to the phone that was by the door of his room, not leaving your eyesight as he answers it from the doorway.

You weren't listening to what he was saying to whoever he was talking to. You were too lost in thought, eyeing your boyfriend from across the room. Your eyes roamed all over his body. He was only wearing jeans from when he had to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. Your eyes studied his tattoos all on display for you to ogle over before falling down to the tufts of hair on his lower stomach, peeking out from behind those handcuffs he has on his belt.

Eddie noticed how you were practically drooling over him, and he smirked.

"Yeah, give me fifteen minutes." was all you heard from the conversation.

Eddie hung up the phone and started to head back towards you.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was just Pete. He wanted to see if I could deliver." Eddie sighed, putting on a shirt he had just lying around.

You didn't let yourself cum for a drug deal...

"You want me to come with you?" you ask.

"No," he stopped you, "I want you to stay right here like this," he kissed you, "Cause I'm not done with you," Eddie slipped his hands between your legs and cupped your sex.

"Okay," you nodded.

"Be good for me and behave. I won't be long."

You rolled your eyes with a huff, "Fine."

Eddie playfully shook his head at you before heading out the door.

The first five minutes felt like five hours, and by the tenth minute, you had grown completely restless.

The longer you lay in Eddie's bed, wearing his clothes, the harder you knew this would be for you. He was all around you, his music, his clothes, his smell. The ache between your thighs grew stronger by the second.

One little touch couldn't hurt, right?

You softly stroked your clit over your panties. Relief flooded all throughout your body, firmly pressing your fingers into the damp fabric.

You drew your hand away only for the ache to return.

You knew your fingers would never feel as good as Eddie's, and he was going to come back any minute. But you needed to be touched so desperately.

Your hand slipped past the waistband of your underwear, and you started caressing your wet folds.

You bit your lip with a whimper, soaking your fingers in your slick. One of your hands snuck under Eddie's hellfire shirt you were wearing to tweak your nipple between your fingers.

Your lips parted as you softly moaned. You started rocking your hips against your hand uncoordinatedly rubbing circles on your clit.

"Eddie," you whined.

All you wanted was to feel your boyfriend's hands on you, but yours were good enough for now as you could feel that knot tightening in your lower stomach again.

"You just couldn't wait, huh, baby?"

Panic floods your body, hearing his voice.

Eddie stood in the doorway with his tongue poking his cheek, "I told you I wouldn't be long."

Eddie kicks off his shoes and takes off his jacket as he makes his way over to you.

You try closing your legs, but Eddie stops you.

"Ah ah, keep those pretty legs open for me," he places his hand on your knee, "You just couldn't resist, could you?" he asks, sliding his hand up your inner thigh.

"I'm sorry, Eddie-" you start.

"Don't be sorry, baby, I'm not upset," he says, his hand continuously inching higher towards your heat, "You sound so fucking hot moaning my name while you touch yourself," he says lowly in your ear as his fingers brushed over your clit.

Eddie ran his fingers through your folds, letting your juices coat his digits. He groans lowly when he feels how wet you are.

"Such a fucking needy thing, you just wanted my fingers so bad," he said, taking his hand away from your pussy and bringing his fingers to your lips.

Without hesitation, you open your mouth and let Eddie slide his fingers onto your tongue. You swirl your tongue around his digits, humming at the taste of your juices staining them.

"Good girl," Eddie mumbled, watching you hollow your cheeks around his fingers.

You released his fingers with a pop, spit connecting from your lips to his hand. He brings his wet fingers back to your core, teasing your pussy.

Eddie parts your folds, staring at your clit, begging for attention before letting spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your pussy.

The sight turned you on so much you thought you were gonna go crazy.

"Just making sure you all nice and wet for me," he tells you, using his thumb to mix his saliva with your wetness.

"Eddie~"

"That feel good, sweetheart? Want me to keep going?"

"Please,"

"How badly do you want my fingers?"

"So fucking bad, please, Eddie. Please touch me."

"Yeah?" you didn't see the growing smirk on Eddie's face when he started tapping your clit with his fingers. You tried to close your legs with a whimper when he lightly hit your sensitive skin, "How bout that? That feel good, princess?"

The feel of his ring-clad fingers coming into contact with your pussy in light slaps, hurt but in the most delicious ways.

"Eddie," you grabbed onto his wrist. Not to stop him but prevent him from moving his hand away.

Eddie lost himself in the feeling of you against his hand, his fingers expertly teasing your lower lips. He rubbed two fingers against your slit before dipping the digits into your heat.

He was enamored with the way your face twisted up in pleasure from his fingers stretching your walls. The metal of his rings bit your skin, a cool contrast against your warm skin.

With his other hand, Eddie grabbed your face making you look at him, "I told you to be good and behave, didn't I?" he firmly held your chin between his fingers. "You just couldn't stop yourself from being a needy little slut."

He laughed when he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers from his condescending tone.

"But that's what you are, isn't it? A slut only good for having her holes filled by me,"

"Eddie-oh my god!"

"You gonna cum, angel?" he asks, curling his fingers against your gummy walls.

"Please, please. Let me cum, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'll be good I promise."

"Shh, it's okay," he silenced you with a kiss. "Cum," he told you.

You swore you were gonna sink into the mattress beneath you, losing yourself in euphoria. Eddie's name repeatedly tumbled out of your mouth as you came on his fingers, thanking him.

"That's it, baby. That's my good girl," he praised, kissing your skin as you came down.

You whine when you feel the emptiness after Eddie takes his hand away from you.

He examined the slick coating his fingers, even his rings glimmered with your juices.

Eddie didn't even think twice about sliding his fingers into his mouth, licking your essence off his hand.

He grabs your jaw, crashing his lips into yours. Eddie pulled away, leaving your swollen pouty lips chasing his for more. He squished your cheeks together, and you stuck your tongue out before Eddie spit in your mouth.

You grinned as you closed your mouth and swallowed.

"You're so gross," you laughed.

"Like you aren't as equally nasty," he kissed your lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him close. Eddie grabs your thigh, rutting his clothed bulge into your pussy.

You start tugging on his shirt, telling him you want it off, and he only broke the kiss to pull the piece of clothing over his head.

Eddie's hand slipped between your bodies, softly stroking your clit again.

"Eddie, m'sensitive," you whine.

"Yeah, but this is what you wanted right?" he nudged your nose with his, "Been dying to be touched, you couldn't even wait fifteen minutes. Gotta come back to find my girlfriend with her pretty little legs spread, touching herself to the thought of me." he pinched your clit between his fingers making you moan. "Just wanted to cum so badly," Eddie teasingly dragged his finger between your folds. "So you're gonna cum as many times as I want."

"Eddie, please," you dig your nails into his skin.

Eddie pushed your shirt to your sternum, leaving kisses down your stomach. He softly sunk his teeth into your skin, pressing a kiss to your hipbone after leaving the mark there. Eddie started to lift your legs over his shoulders, kissing and licking your inner thighs.

He held your legs apart, his fingers softly digging into the plush of your thighs. Eddie hungrily stared at your pussy, licking his lips before flattening his tongue against your slit.

"Fuck, Eddie," you tangled your fingers in his messy curls.

Eddie ate you out like a starved man, burying his face deeper into your pussy. Your back arched off the bed as electricity jolted through your body from Eddie sucking on your clit.

Your thighs threatened to close around Eddie's head, but hooking his arms around your thighs prevented that from happening.

You squirmed, your legs twitching from the overwhelming pleasure flooding your body. Eddie repeatedly flicked your clit with his skilled tongue. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling and tugging on the messy curls.

Eddie moaned against your skin, letting his tongue wiggle inside of you. Your toes curled, and your eyes rolled in your head. You couldn't help the noises that shamelessly spilled out of your lips as you neared your second orgasm.

"Oh my god, Eddie please,"

"What, baby? Gonna cum for me again already?" he grinned, half his face glistening with your slick.

With your bottom lip tugged between your teeth, you nodded your head. Eddie never took his eyes away from yours as he lowered his head back down, sticking his tongue out and collecting all your juices.

Your ankles locked behind Eddie's head as your orgasm crashed over you. He still held your legs apart, lapping at your folds, licking up everything you had to offer.

"Hey, look at me," Eddie whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering over you, checking on you.

You nuzzled into his hand that was caressing your face before leaning in and connecting your lips.

"I'm okay," you whispered back.

"Yeah?" he nudged your nose with the tip of his, "You think you can give me one more then, sweetheart?"

Feeling his cock straining against his jeans as he pressed it into your thigh, you only nodded as more arousal flooded your body.

He was slow to undo his pants like he was punishing you on purpose. He watched as you eagerly waited for his jeans to hit the floor so you could have him the way you desperately wanted.

Eddie grabbed both your legs and pulled you closer to him. His hips met yours, and he slipped his cock between your folds. You tried to bite back a moan, feeling his heavy cock nudging your clit.

"You feel that, princess? Feel what you do to me," he spoke against your ear. The low tone of his voice sends vibrations straight to your core.

"Eddie. Please fuck me,"

You tried to lift your hips, only for him to pin them down to the mattress before he slid into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

"So fucking wet," he mumbled, "pussy feels so goddamn good."

Eddie tried to hold himself back from just bottoming out in one go. Feeling the way your warm walls pulse around his length, still sensitive from cumming twice already but still aching for more.

Your legs locked around Eddie's waist, keeping him there as you adjusted to him.

"Eddie," his cock twitched at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue so deliciously.

"Mhm?" Eddie's nostrils flared, and his muscle rippled under his skin, his hands grabbing onto the headboard.

"I love you," you mumble.

"God, don't do this to me, baby. I'm not trying to finish before I've gotten started."

"But you make me feel so good, Eddie," the drunken grin on your face was enough to tell Eddie how far gone you were, "You're always so good to me."

Eddie slowly rutted his hips into yours. You could feel the sticky mess between your thighs each time he pushed into you.

Eddie grabbed onto the headboard with one hand while using the other to bring your leg higher around his torso. 

"E-Eddie, I can't-"

"I know, sweetheart. It's okay," he tucked your hair behind your ear before kissing you. 

You bit down on his lip with a moan, feeling his cock brush your sweet spot. Your walls clamped down around Eddie when he pressed his thumb to your clit. Your eyes rolled back, and you could feel yourself slipping into ecstasy. 

"Pl-Please don't stop," you panted.

"Such a good girl for me," he whispered.

"Eddie~" 

"That's it, baby. Say my name."

"Eddie!"

"Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours. S'all yours. Only yours."

"Cum for me." 

Your body went numb, your mind blank. Eddie hissed as your nails sunk into his arms, his cock twitching against your walls before spilling his cum into you. 

The two of you didn't move much, letting yourselves come down from your high. You softly ran your fingers through Eddie's hair as he mumbled affirmations into your sweaty skin. 

"I love you," he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

"Mm." Eddie knew your mind was in too much of a stupor to have processed his words, but he repeats them again, making sure you're still with him.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you softly giggle. 

"Try some shit like that again, and I ain't promising to be so nice next time."

"Maybe I don't want you to be nice next time." you smiled.

a/n: not proofread but thank you sm for reading <33 feedback is appreciated!!

[luveline]

idk if this is interesting enough for a prompt, but stripper! reader (w/ either aaron or spencer, your choice :) ) where they get worried because they see her with large bruise on her side but really she just got it from a hard fall practicing a pole trick lol

ty for requesting! I thought it was more than interesting my love, 1.1k

cw past implied domestic/workplace violence

"Can I make a cup of tea or something?" 

Spencer lifts his chin before his gaze, hanging onto the line he's reading until he's finished somewhere manageable. Finally looking up, he says, "Sorry, what?" 

"Can I make some tea? Do you have anything like that? Or coffee?" you ask. 

He almost slips standing up. "I'll make you tea." 

"No, I can make it, you're reading. I just wanted to ask before I went rooting through your stuff." 

Spencer's smile is shiny, pretty, all manner of things. It says Don't be silly. "You don't have to ask, help yourself." He nudges you in your bad side. "Of course you can have tea. I'll make it." 

You wince at his contact but follow him into the kitchen without complaining. You're sick of your own narrative —yes, you're a stripper, yes, it's hard work, and you know these things but you're tired of having it be the constant identifier of your life. You really wish work stayed at work, but the half metre contusion spread up your ribs like a formidable stain won't go away. You want something warm to wash down a few painkillers and hopefully you'll fall asleep on his couch. Spencer doesn't make you go home when it gets late and you hate asking him if you can stay. Easier to knock out on his couch and have him throw a blanket over you. 

His mind must have drifted to the same place. "Did you wanna stay the night? It's getting kind of late." He opens the kitchen cabinet above the toaster oven for two mugs, and the cabinet below the sink for his stove top kettle. He peeks at you from over his shoulder when you fail to answer. "Or I can drive you home?" 

"I'll stay. Better chance of survival." 

He does that adorable nose-wrinkled frown. "I'm not a bad driver." 

"Do you have any of my cookies left?" 

You wouldn't usually ask, but you paid for them last time you came over, so you figure it's okay. 

"Sure, they're in the cabinet by the bread bin," he says, moving to the sink to fill the kettle with tap water. His face flicks between you and the task at hand. 

You open the cabinet above the bread bin, double doors creaking on their hinges. Your cookies are in a tupperware container on the very top shelf at the back. He'd probably tell you something about mould or weevils if you asked why they're up out of reach, but you're more focused on getting a sweet treat than anything. You'll ask later. You can listen to him talking until you fall asleep. 

"What is that?" 

"What's what?" you ask, though any further questioning is interrupted by your yelp, a cold hand touching your naked stomach as you set back down on your heels. 

"What happened?" Spencer asks, your shirt held by his pinky finger as his thumb moves over the bruise. It's like he's hoping it's make up to be rubbed away, and he's horrified when it stays undisturbed by his gentle touch. "Who did this? I swear, I'll–" 

"Your hands are cold," you interrupt, taking his hand in yours, peeling it off of your stomach. "And it's kind of tender, Spence." 

"What happened?" 

His tone leaves no room for jogging around. You're not reluctant to tell him for whatever reason he might assume… You and Spencer used to live very close to one another, and you'd see him at the local grocery store, a small place, without saying much. He'd smile at you. Occasionally say hi. Until one day your eye was swollen shut from the force of a cruel hand and he asked if there was anything he could do. So Spencer knows intimately how people have managed to hurt you, and he worries because it's his nature to worry. 

You'll have to tell him what happened, even if it's embarrassing, in order to wipe the concern off of his delicate features. He's angry and scared and sorry, and he has no reason to be any of those things. 

"I– okay, I wanted to practise this twist thing that Stassia showed me," you begin, meeting his eyes with bashful reproach, "you don't have to be so worried. I was practising, or trying to, but it gets cold in the private room and I was shivering and my hands were aching, so I thought I could put on my sweatpants and try again but, you know, you need the–" 

"Friction," he interrupts, looking down at your bruise with a rather ironic smile. "You fell off of the pole?" 

"Yes, and you don't have to sound so happy about it." 

"I'm not," he says, rubbing at the sore fat of your hip apologetically. "I'm glad it wasn't, you know, what I thought it was, but– I mean– how hard did you fall?" 

"I thought I broke my ribs." 

He laughs. It's as soft as his touch. "I bet you did…" 

"Any more touching and I'll think you want to tip me." 

Spencer laughs and winces simultaneously, dropping your shirt back into place and neatening the hem "Right, sorry." He steps back half a step before stepping forward again, his arms quick to wrap around you in a sweeping but brief hug. "Thanks for telling me." 

"Super sarcastic, Dr. Reid." 

He peels away from you to light the stove unsuccessfully. Your side is throbbing at being remembered, your head with embarrassment, and that cup of tea just isn't coming quick enough. The phantom of his fingerprints linger.

You follow Spencer to the stove and push your hip into his, pushing the stove top knob in with the sparker until it catches. 

"Don't make a joke about my hands." 

"I wasn't going to," he says earnestly. The back of his knuckles touch your elbow. "You could tell me the next time you do something like that. You should. I want to know if you have a bruise the size of a watermelon." 

"If I told you every time something was wrong with me we'd always be talking about what's wrong with me," you say, though you press your cheek to his shoulder appreciatively. 

"Good," he says simply. 

"Good," you repeat, surprised. 

You stay like that until the kettle whines, your cheek on his shoulder. Oddly, it's as though you've taken a weight off.

Spencer gives you the princess treatment for the rest of the night, as though helping him make dinner or washing the dishes will stop your bruise from healing. He even pops out to the store for a tube of arnica. It's, shamefully, one of the best days of your entire year, easily making the top ten, as most days with Spencer tend to do. 

[cevansbrat0007]

Back to Sleep

Summary: Ari has the perfect cure for your insomnia.

Warnings: Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Insomnia, Brat!Reader, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Soft D/s themes, Hand Job (implied), Discussions of Punishments, Bondage (mentioned), Manhandling, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Could’ve sworn I had it in my hand when I walked out.” You mumble as you creep to the edge of your man’s bedroom. Using the flashlight feature on your phone, you scan the room, hoping to see where you’d left the charger for your Kindle.

You eventually spy it laying on the floor next to the nightstand. Holding your breath, you tiptoe back inside, taking special care not to make a sound. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up your bounty hunter. Especially since it had taken you so long to extricate yourself from him and that bed in the first place. 

As much as Ari Levinson said he wasn’t the cuddling type, his actions led you to believe otherwise. When that oversized menace wasn’t sleeping practically on top of you, he was taking up all the space - leaving you with hardly any. 

When you’d pointed that out the other day, he’d simply shrugged and mumbled something about sleeping better when he knew where you were. And then when you responded with it didn’t mean he had to take up the entire bed with you in it, he’d just shrugged again and said: “Well Bird, I reckon the safest place for you to sleep might be right here in my arms then, huh?” 

Stunned, you’d been left with virtually no other option except to agree with his logic. And the smug grin that slid across his handsome features let you know that you’d just lost a pretty major battle. 

But deep down, you really hadn’t cared as much as you might’ve let on. Maybe it was okay for you to like sleeping beside this sweet beast of a man. Especially since you seemed to be doing an awful lot of it lately.

However, that didn’t mean sharing a bed was without its downsides. In fact, you were in the midst of experiencing one right now. Because while Ari appeared dead to the world after a long day of chasing cold leads, you were wide awake. 

Which was unfortunate since you were the type of girl who loved her sleep. And now it looked like you’d be lucky if you got any at all tonight. Well, at least you’d had the forethought to bring along some reading material just in case. 

Maybe in the morning you would ask Ari if he was okay with you leaving a couple books at his place. While you suspected he wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of having a stack of romance novels taking up space on his nightstand, you also doubted he would say no. 

If anything, he would more than likely view it as a sign you planned to come back. You were too attached to your books to just abandon them with a man who would never be able to fully appreciate them.    

Once you manage to snag your charger, you quietly make your way back to your man’s sparsely furnished living room. Just the other night you’d brought up the fact that the cozy space could seriously benefit from a splash of color, along with a couple of throw pillows for the surprisingly comfy sofa. Ari’s response that time?  

“Have at it. Credit card is in my wallet. Take the silver, not the blue. Let me know if you wanna go to that one mall the next town over. I hear they’ve got better stores.” He’d said all of that without so much as batting an eye before returning his attention back to his laptop. 

Meanwhile, you'd been so shocked that somebody could’ve knocked you over with a feather. You were starting to find it annoying every time Ari Levinson rendered you speechless.       

You settle on the couch with a soft sigh, your body sinking into the plush cushions as you curl up with your beloved device. While it could never replace the feeling of holding a physical book in your hands, it did still serve a purpose. And right now that purpose was providing a healthy distraction from your anxiety-inducing bout of insomnia.

Powering on your Kindle, you immediately select the first book in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander Series that also went by the same name. It was one of your favorites, which explained why you were currently in the middle of a much needed reread. 

Before you forgot, you make sure to lean over and hook up your charger. And then you clear your mind, allowing yourself to get lost in the magic of Gabaldon’s highlander epic, set in 1743 Scotland. You immediately pick up where you left off, with James Fraiser on a crusade to rescue his wife who was being held prisoner by the infamous Jonathan “Black Jack” Randall. 

And even though you’ve read this part multiple times, you find yourself getting swept up in the details of the dreamy highlander’s daring plan to save his Sassenach from her twisted captor’s clutches. 

You’re so engrossed in the chaos unfolding on the pages that you almost don’t hear Ari calling for you – your name fading into the chaotic background of the fictional raid on Black Jack’s stronghold. 

“Bird?” 

This time your head snaps up, your mind abandoning the antics of The Dunbonnet and his crew. You adjust your position on the couch, craning your neck as you listen out for whatever it was Ari needed.

“In here.” You reply, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. After a moment or two, you’re treated to the sight of a sleepy and disheveled Ari as he comes ambling around the corner sporting nothing but a pair of black silk boxers that left very little to the imagination.

He didn’t know this, but they were quickly becoming your favorite pair. 

“Got worried.” His voice comes out rough as he approaches, squinting as his eyes work overtime to adjust to the light. “Thought you might’ve left. Roads are dangerous this time of night.” He runs a hand through his tousled locks, attempting to brush them out of his face so that he can get a better look at your lounging form. 

Assuming that your oversized Harry Potter t-shirt and panties counted as pajamas. 

“Nope. I’m right here.” You tell him, offering up a sheepish smile. “Just me and Jamie Fraser. Doing our thing.”

“Who?” Ari levels you with a confused gaze, clearly not understanding the reference. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna pretend to know who that is. But this Jamie guy needs to go find his own woman since it’s high time for mine to come back to bed where she belongs.” He informs you, scratching at an itch along his muscled abdomen.

“But I’m okay right here, Ari.” You do your best to reassure him. “Plus, I can’t sleep. Stupid insomnia. And the last thing I wanna do is keep you up after you’ve had a crazy long day.” You let out a yawn as you innocently stretch your arms overhead, missing just how quickly your bounty hunter’s attention shifts to your breasts as you arch your back.

“Bedtime, Duchess.” He holds out his hand to you, raising a tawny brow when you don’t immediately acquiesce. “Now, please.”

“But I just told you that I couldn’t sleep!” You protest when Ari plucks your e-reader from your grasp and sets it aside so that it can continue charging without interruption. Later, you would appreciate how gentle he always seemed to be with your things. But not right now. 

Right now, you wanted to pout.

“And I heard you, baby. Loud and clear.” He smiles indulgently before leaning down to lift you into his arms, his thick biceps curling around your body as he begins to carry you back to his bedroom. “But as your man, I happen to have the perfect cure for even the worst possible case of insomnia.” 

Winding your own arms around his neck, you decide to give into temptation and bury your face in the crook of his shoulder. Breathing him in, you find yourself reveling in the clean, masculine scent that was all uniquely him.

Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, loving how it makes you giggle. You didn’t know this, but your sweet little laugh was easily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Almost to the point where he often found himself willing to do just about anything to hear it. 

Christ help him when you realized just how much of a sucker he was becoming for you. Some days he felt like he was falling hard and fast without a parachute. Which meant he was bound to be a goner. 

But until then, he was going to do everything in his power to bring you down with him.

Once you both have safely reentered the bedroom, he kicks the door shut with his foot without so much as a second look. He was a man on that mission. And nothing could be allowed to get in the way of seeing to his woman, who was apparently in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

“I got you.” Ari gently places you down on the bed, ensuring that you don’t bounce too hard or anything like that. Once you’re settled, he makes quick work of relieving you of your top, freeing your breasts to his hungry gaze. 

His rapidly hardening cock twitches inside his boxers as he watches them bounce, your sweet nipples practically begging him to taste. But he stops short of giving-in when he gets a good look at what else you’ve got on beneath that damn shirt.

“What the hell is up with these?” He growls, his fingers finding their way into the waistband of your pink, cotton panties. “And why are you wearing them in my bed?” He cups your chin with his free hand, the pad of his thumb brushing across the softness of your lip. “Did you forget the rule, sweet Bird?”

You feel the blush rising to your cheeks, even as you bite your tongue. Because of course you hadn’t forgotten this particular rule. Although, it would serve him right if you had – especially since he always seemed to have so flipping many of them.

“Well?” Ari asks again, his grip tightening just a fraction. “What’s my rule?”

“No panties in bed unless they’re absolutely necessary.” You rasp in time with the goosebumps springing up along your heated flesh. 

“And are they necessary?” His commanding tone has your nipples pebbling with desire. Whether you liked it or not, your body was slowly training itself to respond to his special brand of dominance. “Or were you just feeling a little disobedient? Hm?”

“I…th–the second one, maybe.”

The look on your man’s face let you know that he’s far from pleased. But perhaps he might at least be willing to allow points for honesty.  

“Take them off and hand them to me.” He temporarily relinquishes his hold, giving you the chance to obey. 

You watch with baited breath as he graciously accepts them before bringing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. A strangled groan escapes his throat as his eyes threaten to roll back in his head, the erotic sound making your increasingly slick pussy flutter with need. 

You force yourself to remain silent as he repeats the action once more, before finally tossing them over his shoulder and returning his attention back to you. 

“Now, be a good girl and turn over on your belly.” 

Pulse hammering in your ears, you only briefly hesitate before doing as he asks. But it’s not until you’re finally in position that true understanding finally dawns. Less than a minute later, you feel Ari’s hand collide with your upturned ass.

“Ow!” You shiver as a delicious wave of heat blooms across your vulnerable cheeks, your hands fisting the covers in preparation for the next blow. Your hips jerk when his hand connects for a second time, your traitorous body growing more and more excited as the anticipation builds. 

And of course you knew what was expected to come next. Your handsome bounty hunter was waiting for an apology. Because it wasn’t enough for you to simply acknowledge your flagrant disregard for his no-panties policy. Oh no. Leave it to your Beast to take things a step farther.

“I’m not hearing anything, little Bird.” Ari lands another smack before pausing his sensual assault in favor of removing his boxers, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. A sight you would’ve been permitted to enjoy had your man not thought it was more prudent to punish you first. “Speak now, unless you’ve made your peace with having a sore ass.” 

Ari had no problem continuing on with your spanking. He could watch that sweet booty of yours dance for hours and still not get tired of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You whimper, rising up to welcome the next slap. “It won’t happen again.” 

Except you both knew that it would. Maybe not necessarily in the form of you wearing certain undergarments when you shouldn’t, but Ari was convinced that it was only a matter of time before you decided to test him again. And when you did, he vowed he’d be ready.

Satisfied with your response, you only have to endure one final blow before he finally sees fit to end your punishment. “Thank you, sweetness. You think you’re finally ready for that special remedy I promised you?”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, feeling grateful when he helps you sit up. By now you can practically feel the sticky wetness seeping out from between your thighs as your core spasms - your empty walls clenching around nothing. You didn’t need to turn on the lights to know that you were making quite the mess. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Of its own accord, your hand reaches out to grasp his straining cock, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. He was so fucking big that it was damn near impossible for you to wrap your hand around his impressive girth. Not that your man was complaining or anything. 

In fact, Ari was always so unbelievably patient whenever you took it upon yourself to satisfy him. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Well…until he wasn’t. 

“You had better.” He grits out as you continue to work him up and down with unhurried, measured strokes. “Otherwise next time I might have to tie you up. Maybe teach you a lesson that way and see if it sticks.”

His head falls back onto his shoulders as you focus on tracing one of his manhood’s more prominent veins with the edge of your thumb, loving the way he shudders beneath your touch. He lets you have your way for a few more minutes, until his skin is flushed and a thin sheen of sweat dots his brow.

That’s when he puts a stop to things, if only because he’s not ready to cum yet. And even if he was, he was the kind of man who believed in putting his woman first. Brat or not. 

“I still think it’s a shame, but whatever you say, Ari.” You giggle, feeling more than a little playful when he gestures for you to get comfortable in the middle of the bed. He soon joins you, the pillow-soft mattress sinking under his weight. 

“Damn right, Duchess.”

Ari doesn’t stop until he’s looming above you, his big body blocking out the moonlight. Right now he looks every inch the predator – from the feral gleam in his eyes to the wolfish grin on his lips. There's little doubt that he plans to leave you deliciously sated by the time the sun comes up.

“Are you mine, Bird?” The question comes on the heels of a seductive purr. Before you can respond, his head dips to take your lips in a gentle kiss. You grant him full access to your mouth after the first brush of his skilled tongue, content to let him take the lead. 

You could be in charge another night.

“Yes.” There was no use in arguing that particular point anymore. You belonged to him for the foreseeable future. And you were okay with that. “But only if you’re mine too.” The unexpected phrase all but leaps out of your mouth before you can think better of it.

Ari immediately pulls away, his eyes darkening with a passion so intense it robs you of breath. “You want me to be yours?” The vicious sound rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest. “You thinkin’ about keeping me like I am you?”

“Maybe.” You whisper as one of your legs hitches itself around his trim waist, pulling him down on top of you with a slight "oof". “That a problem?” You do everything in your power to keep your tone light, bordering on challenging.

But somewhere deep down you knew that if this moment didn’t go your way, it just might shatter that delicate thing inside you. That part of your spirit that was a little more fragile than you were actually willing to admit.        

“Nope.” Ari responds after a beat. “Perfectly fine by me.” And just like that, you can breathe again.

This time when his mouth finds yours there’s nothing sweet or soft about it. The kiss is a frenzied gnashing of teeth and tongue, with both of you fighting for dominance. One of Ari’s hands dives into your thick curls, wrenching your head back so that he can lavish attention along the curve of your throat, marking you up the way he’s been dreaming about since he walked through the doors of your shop that fateful day.

Ari Levinson was well aware that a woman of your caliber deserved fancy things like flowers and candy and fucking sappy poetry. All things that he was going to do his damnedest to give you. But until he calmed down enough to string a couple sentences together – or at the very least Google some Shakespeare and Bronte – you’d have to settle for a more savage kind of love.   

He grinds his cock against your drenched pussy, both of you groaning in unison as it slides through your messy folds. “Is all this honey for your man, baby?” You feel him smile against your neck before he goes back to gifting you with more love bites before moving on to toy with your pouting nipples. 

Thank goodness you owned a damn good concealer, otherwise you’d have a hell of a time explaining away your new, soon-to-be hickies to your nosey customers. 

“It’s all for you, Beast.” You gasp, as you buck and writhe beneath him. “Need you inside me, please. Want you to fuck me.” It was almost as if you couldn’t stand being without him for even a minute longer. 

That’s all your man needs to hear. Ari pulls away briefly, his breathing slightly labored as he lines himself up with your weeping entrance. “Well, since you asked so pretty.” One quick thrust is all it takes for you to welcome him home, your greedy walls clamping down around his shaft and refusing to let go. “Fuck!”

“That’s it.” You whimper, urging him to move as your heels dig into the small of his back. “Fuck me. Fuck your pussy, baby.” Your bounty hunter is all too eager to comply, pumping in and out of you with several shallow thrusts. 

Eventually, he decides to take pity on you and give you what you really need. Every single incredible inch of his thick, perfectly built cock.   

One of his hands reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Meanwhile, he uses the other to maintain his balance so that he can go deep the way you need him to, letting you feel every sensual movement of his hips.

“Mine.” Ari snarls with each fevered stroke. “All mine, Bird. Just like this tight little cunt.” Your toes curl as he adjusts the angle so that his dick hits your spot just right. Fucking perfect. It’s so good you’ve got fireworks dancing behind your eyes.    

“Ooh!” You cry, raking your nails down his back. Because fuck it. It was only fair that your man bear your marks too. “Oh God, Beast!Please!Oh God, baby.Yes!”

“Never lettin’ you go.” Ari rears back slightly, but he doesn’t stop fucking you. He doesn’t even slow down. Instead he becomes hyper-focused on your connection, seemingly enthralled with the way you accept him every time surges in and out of your wet heat. “Always fuck that sweet ass back to sleep.” He slaps your flank hard, his bruising fingers digging into your thigh. 

“S’close, Ari.” You mewl as the pleasure continues to build, your mind slowly threatening to come undone. “Don’t–don’t stop!”

Thankfully, your man couldn’t…not even if he wanted to. And he really, really didn’t want to. But even as you feel that red hot coil tighten in your belly, you knew he was only just getting started. 

Honestly, you’d be lucky if either of you got any sleep before the night was through. But that was also fine by you. Because you were always ready to go a few more rounds with your man. 

And who knows? Maybe this next time, he’d even allow you to be on top. Or not. Although, you supposed it never hurt to dream. With or without a good night’s sleep.

END

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@daykrisr99

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (16)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation. wc: 3.4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: this part went through so much editing until I was satisfied with it, also, can't believe this is ending soon!!

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

EVERYTHING FINALLY FELL INTO PLACE. Although it took longer than it normally did to solve a case, Spencer finally gathered every piece of information, every obscure clue, and every small detail he unfortunately missed before to make a clear profile.

Eric Adler—or Henry Wyatt as Garcia discovered through her meticulous sleuthing—was a master of disguise. He had concealed his identity under a different persona, changing his name the moment he packed his bags and left the town he grew up in. Oliver confirmed this discovery when Spencer visited the hospital the following day, once he had regained consciousness.

"Eric... he's a stranger to me," Oliver had said, his voice carrying a tinge of disbelief, a foreign look gleaming in his eyes. "Henry, on the other hand, was one of my closest friends."

"I'm assuming something happened for you to drift apart."

Oliver's gaze shifted. "We grew up in a very tight community. Religion was all we were taught," he began, his voice tinged with defiance and nostalgia. "I guess we became close from our rejection of those traditional values and practices."

Spencer acknowledged his words with a nod. "Your files showed there were a lot of crimes you committed in the past."

"I-I was very rebellious."

"I would say forcing yourself on a young, innocent girl was more than rebellious."

Oliver winced. "Listen, I'm not proud of my past," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "But yes, my friends and I grew up doing things that were out of morals."

Spencer studied him. "What happened then?"

"A lot of pointing fingers," he admitted. "Our community leaders eventually found out and threatened us with severe punishment. From the outside, it was simply community service, but from the inside, it involved a lot of restraints and, well, whips."

Silence stretched between them. "It was how they punished the bad," Oliver explained further, his eyes searching Spencer's for comprehension. "They always say it whenever they were going to abuse us; 'The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free.'"

"Proverbs 11:21," Spencer mumbled under his breath, recognizing the scriptural reference.

A hint of surprise flickered across Oliver's face. "Are you a religious person?"

He shook his head, implying a depth of knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of religious beliefs. "Was that what made you drift apart?"

"Partly, yes," Oliver answered with a sigh. "We didn't admit to it at first, but then under the pressure and the constant threat of punishment, I guess I became weak."

"Did you betray him?"

Oliver acknowledged the truth with a slow nod. "We were both punished, along with the others who were involved, but our leaders always wanted one name whom they could sacrifice, a name who held all responsibility. The initiator of all sins."

"So you put the blame on him," Spencer summarized, understanding the dynamics that had led to the fracture in their friendship.

"It was the only thing I thought of doing to save myself," he confessed. "He became a sacrifice. All the punishment turned onto him until he was cast out of the community. When his family didn't even try to interfere, he eventually left town. Never heard from him ever since."

"And then years later you saw him again."

His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

"I didn't even recognize him at first. He had a different name, different hair, different style—he was practically a different person. When I realized who he actually was, I tried to confront him  but he never acknowledged me." He then looked away, the emotion in his gaze concealed. "I just thought he didn't want to be associated with the past anymore."

It explained everything. The revelation about Eric's past and the harsh punishments he had to endure shed light on the motivations behind his actions. It explained why he felt compelled to punish people, as it was the only method deeply ingrained in his brain.

Their shared upbringing, the weight of betrayal, and the scars of their past had shaped his sense of justice, leading him down a dark path of vengeance. And with that new knowledge in mind, Spencer passed on the information he had discovered when he came to work the next day.

Everyone was gathered by the round table, an unusual thing to happen given that they were typically scattered in their assigned tasks, but all of them were present for once. Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing in contemplation after Spencer finished his thoughts. "So let me get this straight, Eric's vendetta against Oliver is personal. Goes beyond just catching a killer then."

"It's a cycle of betrayal." JJ, standing by the door with crossed arms, agreed aloud. "He attempted to shift the blame onto Oliver, something he also went through in the past."

Spencer nodded as he started to pace around the room. "Psychologically speaking, his actions seem to be rooted in a need for retribution, a manifestation of the punitive measures ingrained in his upbringing."

"So we're dealing with a man who sees himself as a guardian angel dispensing justice, even if it means resorting to extreme measures."

"A guardian angel while simultaneously executing his revenge," Emily mused from the other side, her words laced with a blend of contemplation and concern. "Very personal indeed."

Hotch crossed his arms as he stood by the table, and scrutinized his team with his usual detached and professional expression, devoid of any visible emotions. "We need to understand his patterns," he began. "If we can predict his next move, we might be able to intercept him."

"He clearly has a deep affection towards Y/n." Morgan offered, prompting Spencer to halt his pacing and turn his attention toward him at the mention of her name. "He probably has a list of people who he thinks have hurt her in the past."

Rossi studied everyone in the room, attentively listening to their thoughts. He tapped his finger against the wooden table, directing his focus on Morgan. "We should find out who might be on that list. It could give us insight into his next move."

Hotch agreed with a curt nod. "Morgan, Rossi, work on compiling a list of individuals connected to Y/n. Garcia, cross-reference it with Eric's history. Let's see if we can predict his next move based on the people he might target."

Garcia instinctively rose from her chair and nodded. "Yes, sir," and waltzed out of the room with determined steps, making her way to her office.

The others shifted from their spots, while Morgan, unlike the rest, kept his gaze on Spencer. He observed the frown stretching across his face and pondered whether to voice what he had in mind. He hesitated, acknowledging that Spencer's involvement with their witness wasn't strictly his business. Yet, considering the recent events, he felt compelled to express his thoughts.

"I don't want to be that kind of person to bear bad news, but I think—I think—there's a high chance that pretty boy here could be a target," Morgan declared. Spencer quickly met his gaze.

Everyone else, momentarily suspended in a collective pause, turned their attention toward him. He could feel their penetrating gaze, which started to make him uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. He didn't want to entertain that possibility, but it made sense. Considering Eric had been with her right after he had hurt her, he could very well be the next target.

JJ, breaking the silence, voiced what lingered in everyone's thoughts as she took a step closer to him. "We should keep you safe then. If you're a potential target, we can't afford to overlook any possibility."

Spencer glanced over at her, noting the concern in her eyes. He sensed a silent plea in the way she looked at him as if she were urging him to agree, to step back and act on what seemed to be the logical thing to do. However, despite that, the gears in his mind were turning. If he was a potential target, it could offer an easy opportunity to get closer to their Unsub.

"No," he said, a conviction in his voice. "You can use me as bait."

The room held its breath as his unexpected proposal hung in the air. The team, still processing the revelation of his potentially being a target, turned their focus to his daring suggestion.

JJ simply stared at him, dumbfounded by the audacity of the idea. "You're crazy."

"No, think about it." He turned towards Hotch, knowing the older man would at least consider his idea. "We can get to him by luring him in."

Hotch held his gaze. The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders as he considered the risky proposition. "Reid, it's too dangerous. We can't—"

"If Eric believes he has a score to settle with me, then let's use that to our advantage. We set up a controlled scenario, anticipate his moves, and ensure we have the upper hand."

Emily looked at him with worry, taking a step forward from the other side of the room. "Reid, it's too risky. We don't know how he'll react, we can't even guarantee your safety."

"Yes, you can. You'll keep an eye on me." His eyes traveled around the room, meeting each one of their concerned gaze. "It's not something we haven't done before; we've used this method to lure an Unsub, and right now, we have no clue where he is. The only way we can draw his attention is by using me."

Hotch's gaze shifted between Spencer and the rest of the team, weighing the potential outcomes of such a high-stakes plan. It was undeniably risky, but Spencer was right. This wouldn't be their first time baiting an Unsub, and given their past success, a part of him believed the outcome would work out according to plan.

After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Alright, but if we proceed with this, we have to ensure everyone's safety." He gave Spencer a pointed look. "Especially yours, Reid."

He quickly nodded as a moment of understanding passed between them. The room suddenly filled with noise, and amidst the bustling movements, he felt a desperate grip on his arm, pulling him away from the group.

"Spence." JJ's grip tightened as she voiced her concern. "You could be putting yourself in danger. What if this goes wrong?"

That was the thing. It was the nature of their job—there would always be different outcomes. There was no certainty about what could transpire. But with nothing else to do, Spencer was growing desperate for more answers, so he held her gaze, determination etched in his eyes.

"If it means stopping him and knowing her whereabouts, I'm willing to take any risk."

It was raining when it happened. It had been pouring for the past few days as they started to plan the operation. The team decided to elevate the stakes by choosing his apartment as the bait location, aiming to create a scenario that would be emotionally charged for Eric, potentially triggering a faster and more decisive response.

They studied Eric's patterns and behaviors, gathering insights into his actions and motivations. Garcia, constantly stationed at her desk, continued to monitor social media, public records, and any other available data to gauge Eric's movements. She had identified potential triggers that might prompt Eric to act, such as media coverage or public discussions related to Y/n.

In addition to electronic surveillance, Morgan and JJ conducted physical surveillance on locations connected to Y/n's past, anticipating that Eric might revisit places with emotional significance. They strategically placed themselves in key positions, ready to observe and intercept any suspicious activity.

And then the clock ticked away, the minutes stretched into an agonizing waiting game, every second pregnant with anticipation. 

Until it finally came to that night.

Everything felt strange. His apartment. The weather. Himself. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, and Spencer watched the raindrops hit his windowpanes from his couch.

Weeks ago, he sat in the same place where he was now. The only difference was that he was alone. There was no faint smell of chocolate or the sweet melody of laughter. She wasn't here, gracing him with her smile as she nestled on his lap. Her whispers of his name were absent, and the cruel thing was, he didn't even know where she was now. 

He had never felt so much pain before, the ache of not knowing where someone was, all the while having to keep his head up high. It was a facade he learned to put on. Pretending that the hidden cameras strategically placed in his apartment didn't unsettle him, or the discreetly wired microphone, or the inconspicuous headpiece nestled in his ear. He had to act as though the looming potential danger didn't faze him.

But then it finally happened, a sudden shift in the atmosphere permeated the air—like the calm before the storm. And in an instant, Garcia's voice crackled over the communication devices, urgency lacing her words. "I've got movement. Eric's online activity just spiked."

Morgan and Prentiss, stationed discreetly around the apartment complex, receiving the signal, tightened their surveillance. The external cameras around his building captured a figure approaching, shrouded in the shadows of the rainy night. 

Within the confines of his home, his senses heightened. The rain outside intensified. A streak of lighting flashed through the window. A loud sound of thunder echoed in the background. Spencer waited with bated breath, his gaze fixated on the front door. Then, with a creak, it slowly swung open, revealing a silhouette of a figure in the doorway.

Water dripped from his clothes, leaving a trail of wetness as he crossed the threshold. Their eyes briefly locked, and a smile played on Eric's lips as he observed the way Spencer scrutinized him, closing the door behind him.

"Dr. Reid," his sinister tone sliced through the silence, his words dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I see you've been waiting for me."

Spencer watched him, maintaining a composed exterior despite the tension in the air, and met his gaze with a steely resolve. "And I see you've been busy."

Eric cocked an eyebrow.

"Carving your path of justice one victim at a time."

His expression remained unyielding. Stepping further into the room, Eric left a trail of dirty shoe marks on the floor as his eyes observed the dimly lit apartment. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Spencer slowly rose from his seat. "And what is that?"

"Punishing those who have wronged her."

"You're not her savior. You're a vigilante with a distorted sense of righteousness."

"And that's where you're wrong. You don't know the pain she's been through. I'm the only one who can protect her."

Spencer silently watched as he continued to survey his apartment. Eric's eyes swept through all the framed certificates on his wall, his finger delicately tracing the edge of each frame. When he was met with silence, Eric turned back to him, narrowing the distance between them.

"You were always the one she trusted, weren't you?" He shook his head with disdain. "Yet you're the one who hurt her the most."

Aware that each word could either defuse or escalate the situation, Spencer continued to engage him. "I haven't hurt her," he responded carefully. "I've been trying to protect her from someone like you, someone who's lost sight of justice."

Eric let out a scoff. "You think I've lost sight? No, Dr. Reid, I've found clarity. I've seen the darkness that lurks in the hearts of those who pretend to be righteous."

"Your version of justice is a perversion. You've become the monster you claim to fight against."

The room crackled with tension as they held each other's gaze. "Do you even listen to yourself?" Eric retorted, his eyes narrowing with accusation. "You claim to protect her, yet she's left alone in the darkness you couldn't save her from."

The air in the room seemed to thicken as the weight of his words hung between them. His heart quickened its pace while he tried to maintain a calm facade. "Where is she?"

Eric's laughter cut through the air. "You think I'll tell you voluntarily?"

Spencer's gaze remained steady on him. "What do you want?"

The sinister grin on Eric's face revealed a gambit. "You." He took another step closer. "Come with me and I'll take you to her..."

There was definitely a but. It was never that easy, and the way he trailed off his words prompted Spencer to ask, "On what condition?"

He smiled, eyes narrowing as he conveyed a sense of menace while he delivered his proposition.

"Cut off all communication with your team."

Tension lingered around the room like an invisible web, each word contributing to the growing stakes. Eric's laughter, a haunting sound, followed the slightly alarmed look on Spencer's face. 

"You think I didn't know?" he taunted. "Two of your agents are outside this building, and come on, you could've hidden that earpiece better than that." He pointed towards the device. "Your hair might be long, but it's not that long."

Eric then picked up a framed picture sitting on his shelf. It was a photo of him and his team casually smiling to the camera. He remembered that day, it was one of the many times they visited Rossi's house for dinner, and Garcia decided it was the perfect time to capture the moment. To preserve the happy times, she had said, and true to her words, he was happy that day.

His mind suddenly raced, considering the options and potential consequences of complying with his demand. He finally responded. "What if I refuse?"

"Then you'll never find her," Eric retorted, looking back at him. "It's a simple choice. Sacrifice your precious communication or lose her forever."

He wanted him to step into his trap willingly. It was a cruel choice, and it seemed he wasn't the only one who agreed. As Eric's demand hung in the air, the team's voices crackled urgently through his earpiece. Panic and concern infused their words as they frantically implored him to reconsider.

"Spence, step back!"

"Reid, don't do it."

"Stand down, Reid. We're coming through."

The chorus of concerned voices reverberated in his earpiece, each team member contributing to their worry. Despite the chaos of emotions echoing through the line, Spencer remained outwardly composed, his mind working swiftly to navigate the dangerous situation.

"Don't—" he urged, his gaze piercing on Eric while his voice pointed towards his team. "Stay where you are."

Eric watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Seems like your team is in quite a frenzy there. Are you really willing to risk her safety for their voices in your ear?" He continued with a sinister grin, reveling the chaos he had stirred. "Strip away your lifeline, Spencer. The battle is between you and me."

Spencer stood there, calculating his next move. He weighed the possible outcomes of his choices and realized that nothing good would come from either of them. Eric, observing his contemplation, smirked with a twisted satisfaction.

"Come on, Dr. Reid, time is ticking." He tapped the watch around his wrist. "Make up your mind."

Spencer inhaled a sharp breath. Eric was right, there was no time to waste. The more he contemplated his answer, the more danger she was in. He needed her safe. He needed to see her. He needed to know where she was. And there was only one way to find out.

At the other end of the line, Garcia, stationed at her desk, watched Spencer through the screen with a growing sense of urgency. His gaze slowly swept over the room, and she could sense the critical decision looming. Her heart raced as his eyes fell on one of the hidden cameras.

"He's onto us," she muttered to herself, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She tried to maintain the connection as he walked over to the device and unplugged it.

Garcia cursed under her breath. "No—" She pressed on her intercom, her voice tinged with frustration. "I'm losing him."

One by one, the video feeds from the hidden cameras in his apartment turned black. The loss of visual contact with each camera felt like a punch to the gut. Her frustration mounted as the screens blinked out, leaving her staring at a grid of darkness.

"No, no, no," she muttered, fingers dancing over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to reestablish connection. But there was nothing else she could do.

The earpieces crackled with an ominous quiet before a sudden crash echoed through, the sharp sound of impact reverberating. A groan. A thud. A grunt. The team exchanged alarmed glances in their respective locations as the audio crackled with static, and their heart raced at the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Then, abruptly, there was nothing else but silence.

>> NEXT PART

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[stellar-skyy]

COURT GOSSIP — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Fontaine has a lot to say about Furina's lover. (Now with a part two!) ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Very very slight spoilers for the 4.2 archon quest, brief use of pet names (darling). iii. NOTES: Angst, reader doesn't actually make an appearance but they are talked about throughout, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 2.1k words. iv. A/N: Angst bc i lost the 50/50. This probably isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm tired and I was sick of rewriting things.

They called the relationship a lot of things. Scandalous, shocking, shameless. Shameless wasn’t the right word. Furina had plenty shame, but the taste of love had left her too excited to worry about repercussions. Careless, was more accurate.

If she had more care, she would be home by then, curled around her lover, laying with her ear pressed to their chest so she could hear their heartbeat. She wouldn’t be pacing back and forth and wearing grooves into Neuvillette’s office’s carpet.

“It is going to be alright, Lady Furina. Sit down.” Neuvillette said calmly. He was sitting still, hands folded in his lap, and to the ordinary eye he looked perfectly at ease. But Furina hadn’t spent five centuries with him without learning his mannerisms. The stiffness in his shoulders, the twitch of his eyebrow, the way his words sounded a touch too sharp; it was obvious he was just as concerned as she was.

“It’s not! Do you know what they’re saying?” Furina hissed. She threw the newspaper across his desk, letting it land in front of him with a smack. The photo of the two of them—her arms wrapped around their neck, while they kissed her cheek—took up almost the entire page, only broken up by the title.

Exclusive: Who is Lady Furina’s secret paramour?

“I must say, this is quite a poorly titled article.” Neuvillette frowned, looking closer. “The word ‘paramour’ is archaic by itself, but more than that it already implies a scandalous relationship. The word ‘secret’ is superfluous.”

“That’s not the point!” Furina practically wailed. “Look at what they’re saying!”

“Hmm… ‘Who is this mystery partner, and how did they catch the attention of the Archon herself? Is this unknown lover strategically targeting Lady Furina to attempt to obscure the justice of Fontaine?’ Ah, I see. They believe your partner to be seeking you out to gain influence of the court system.”

“How dare they! To think they would stoop to such a level to accuse my—”

“It is alright. I have already scheduled an official announcement to acknowledge the concerns and quell the rumours.”

“It’s not only that! The people are losing their respect.”

“…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“For me! They—” Furina halted. “I—I heard them today. They think of me as just some love-stricken girl. Archons above—” Neuvillette chose not to point out that she herself was an archon. “I couldn’t stand it...”

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

It had been a pleasant morning; so pleasant that once Furina had detangled herself from her partner’s arms, she decided to take a walk.

As she strolled through the streets, the sounds of the city beginning its day and the singing of birds mingled together in a strangely beautiful symphony. They competed for the attention of whoever happened to be listening, with songbirds chirping and crooning from the tops of buildings, directly above the sounds of vendors and other salespersons trying to sell their products.

“Fresh lavender melons, straight from Inazuma!” A fruit-seller called, holding a basket filled with bright purple fruits.

Ah, Lavender Melons. They were a fairly new sight in Fontaine, only appearing after trade with Inazuma was reestablished. Perhaps she should purchase a bunch.

“Extra, extra!” a young newsboy yelled out, waving a newspaper above his head. “Read all about the latest Fontaine news, from the Fontaine Gazette! Hear about the case that divided the Chief Justice and Lady Furina!”

The newspapers were always embellished, but the Fontaine Gazette was a particularly egregious example. Not a single word in that paper was without exaggeration. Though, it was entertaining at times to look over the stories and laugh about the incredulity of it all.

She strolled over to listen to the boy’s calls, idly looking past the rows of newspapers and magazines. She withdrew one from the stand, a gaudy looking magazine with bright red headlines screaming in her face.  

The Spina di Rosula in shambles! it shrieked. Such a crude form of entertainment, the misery of others. It was good Fontaine had enough reputable newspapers to drown out the crows and calls of garbage like that.

“Extra, extra! Lady Furina has a secret lover? Read all about it here!”

In a second, the magazine in Furina’s hands slipped onto the ground, and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

She had to have misheard him; it must be a terrible mistake. She’d been too careful to hide them from the spotlight, keeping them away from the public’s claws. If they’d been discovered, the media would stop at nothing to tear them to shreds. Not to mention how she’d look if their relationship was found out—the Archon of Fontaine, falling head over heels for a mere mortal.

Furina had snatched the paper right out of the young boy’s hand. As he started protesting, she quickly threw a handful of Mora at him and bustled away to read the paper. Behind her, two ladies gasped and leaned over to whisper to each other.

“Is that Lady Furina?”

“I’m surprised she can show her face… I wouldn’t have the courage.”

Vultures, the lot of them! Had they no shame, gossiping about her from six feet away, like she couldn’t damn well hear them?

Their chatter faded to static and white noise in her ears, as the newspaper unfolded to reveal the story she’d been fearing. In it, the photo showed two lovers were caught in an embrace, one hidden in the other’s shoulder. The other was turned at just the right angle to show herself to the camera, grinning down at her partner with love in her eyes.

Furina stared in horror as her own face stared back at her.

⋆ ✩ ｡ ° ✩ ° ｡ ✩ ⋆

“Furina—Ahem, Lady Furina,” Neuvillette paused, blinking at his mistake. Oh dear. He must be on the verge of a breakdown, if he was already messing up her name. “We must begin the conference soon. Shall we leave?”

“I—I suppose that would be prudent,” Furina said shakily, straightening her back.

The trip to the Opera Epiclese was filled with silence. Furina stared at her hands in her lap, picking at the edges of her gloves, while Neuvillette gripped his cane tightly and periodically shot her concerned looks. The only words that were spoken were after they had arrived.

“Are you ready?” Neuvillette asked, hand curled around the curtain separating their backstage room to the front balcony.

“No,” Furina whispered hollowly, before smoothing her features into neutrality and stepping onto the stage.

“Hello, my dears.” Her lips moved of their own accord; voice disconnected from her mind. “I am here to address some rumours you may have heard. If you have been following the news, you would know that some pictures have been spreading of me and another individual. Since then, there has been a number of gossip floating around the court, very little of which is based on fact.”

“Tch, she’s already trying to avoid the blame.” A particularly loud audience member commented, loud enough for Furina to hear. She hesitated for a moment, before continuing.

“This person is as many have suspected,” Furina breathed out. “A romantic partner.”

“Ms Furina!” A young man—notebook and pen in hand; a reporter, likely—yelled out. Furina bit back the haughty That is Lady Furina to you on her tongue. Arrogance wouldn’t serve her well in this performance. “People have been saying that this ‘lover’ of yours is a threat to the integrity of the justice system. How do you respond to the allegations that they are using you to sway the court?”

“T-That isn’t true! They—”

“How can we trust the Palais Mermonia if the Archon is being influenced?” A voice in the front row whispered loudly to her friend.

“If she’s that weak to the charm of a random person, then what does that say about her judgement?” Another responded.

“I—” Furina stuttered out. “P-Please, calm yourselves! I can explain myself if you just wait—”

“Is this really what Fontaine is coming to?” That pesky reporter yelled out, only stirring the chaos further. The courtroom erupted into noise, all overlapping opinions drowning out any conscious thought of hers.

“Childish—”

“Unprofessional—”

“Not fit to lead—”

“—If she’s so distracted by love.”

If the first words were a punch in the gut, the last were certainly a strike straight to her skull. She flinched, her resolve cracking enough to let the throes of panic wash over her face. It was all too much: the lights, the noise, the audience.

But she was used to commotion. She had been acting for centuries.

In the drama, she had almost forgotten her place; the Court of Fontaine was her stage, and she was the leading actress. The citizens before her were the audience to her performance, and she was damned if she wasn’t to put on a show for them.

With a deep breath, she slipped right back into the façade, smoothing over the cracks in her mask with inhuman poise.

“They say the true tragedy of godhood, is one never gets the chance to live like a human.” Furina smiled coyly, playing up the eccentric goddess act that she had been cultivating for centuries. “So many experiences we are robbed of; growing up, falling in love.”

“You wanted to be human?” An audience member called out. Young woman, nervous expression. Perfect extra for Furina’s show.

She turned to stare her in the eyes, coy grin lighting up her features. “Tell me, dear. Have you ever had a lover of your own?”

 “M-me?!” She squeaked. “Oh… I-I haven’t really had a girlfriend. B-But I have been in a… relationship of sorts.” The audience member spluttered and blushed. “A… summer fling, I suppose.”

“Well, wouldn’t I be a fool not to chase a summer fling of my own?” Furina tilted back her head with a laugh, letting her voice boom across the Opera with the confidence that left the audience hanging on her every word. “Oh, my dearest citizens. Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d let a brief bit of romance keep me from my duties? That I would be blinded by something so silly as love?”

“You don’t love them?” Another nervous audience member asked.

Yes, Furina wanted to scream. I love them more than I have ever loved anything in this world.

“Ah, love. Such a novel concept.” She loved them, she did. Oh, how she hoped they would forgive them for this. “The only love I hold is for my people and my nation! I need no lover, when I already have the love of my beautiful Fontaine.”

“I believe we have strayed off-topic,” Neuvillette said, smoothly shifting their attention to him. “The Court of Fontaine retains that this individual carries no influence over Lady Furina, the Palais Mermonia or the Fontainian justice system. This… relationship is something inconsequential that has no effect over Lady Furina’s work, and is not of a concern to Fontaine’s citizens.” Damn right it wasn’t their concern. “To put it frankly, this person is of no significance at all.”

Only Neuvillette was close enough to hear the sharp gasp that escaped her.

“This conference is hereby adjourned.”

They were going to hate her.

How was she supposed to look them in the eyes, after telling an entire courtroom that they were of no importance to her? The love of her life, the one who brought light into the world and a smile of genuine joy upon her face with just their presence. She imagined them watching the court; hearing her words, feeling them strike against their skin like blades.

They were going to hate her, and she would let them.

She would let them hate her, if it meant the public would forget their name. The moment they disappeared from the light, then the rumours would disappear just the same.

And a part of her—a small, barely noticeable, inconsequential part of her, but a part of her nonetheless—breathed a sigh of relief at the knowledge that her balance hadn’t been overturned. It was selfish, she knew that, and the thought disgusted her as much as it brought her comfort. That part whispered that it was for the best, not just for them but for her as well. Her reputation was secure, they were quietly pushed away from the light, and the scandal would die down quickly.

Furina stumbled backstage, stomach spinning. She leaned heavily against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, dreading the moment she would have to go home and face her lover after what she had done.

“Oh, darling.” She murmured. “Please forgive me.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[whoahoney]

An Attempt at a One Night Stand

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Reader is a single mother spending an evening at the Hideout with her friends when she meets the lead singer of a band called Corroded Coffin. He buys her a drink and makes her feel ways she hasn’t felt in a very very long time…

Content Warnings: AFAB/Fem!Reader, NSFW(Minors, DNI), Smut, use of alcohol & cigarettes, descriptions of depression, angst, descriptions of a romantic partner’s passing, fluff, female masturbation, nipple play, light choking, p in v sex, protected sex (WRAP IT), more plot than porn

A/N: My first published smut, don’t look at me. 😂🥲

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson had it bad.

He met the prettiest girl in the world at a gig at the Hideout, the only person in the crowd that sang along with him the whole time. He knew he wanted to buy her a drink when she sang Ozzy into her empty bottle, pulling laughs from her friends while he eyes continued to flicker back to his.

Eddie loved her carefree nature about her, her energy magnetic. ‘I have to know this girl.’ He thought—her every movement fascinating him.

After some encouragement from his friends, he worked up the nerve to saunter up to her table, applying his own confident and easygoing facade the best he could. She was surrounded by an entourage of friends, all sets of eyes suddenly trained on him, halting all conversation.

Eddie glanced at each girl briefly before nodding to them, “Ladies,” then he looked at her again. Her eyes were glossed in wonder and inebriation at the boy who looked at her so intently.

“I, uh, I’m Eddie, and I couldn’t help but notice your show stopping performance tonight, and, uh, wanted to buy you a drink.” He smiled softly, his heart hammering away in his chest and sweat trickling down his temple.

She looked at each one of her friends, widening her eyes in excitement and nodding at the one on her left, a silent agreement. “I’d love that.” She stood, walking over to the bar ahead of him.

“I’m, Y/n, by the way.” She said as they settled into two seats. Eddie nodded, repeating her name inside, trying it on and getting used to the feeling it gave him. “Well, Y/n, what do you drink?” He asked, gesturing to the shelves of liquor behind the bar. Y/n’s eyes darted over the labels ahead of her, trying to focus on one at a time when she decided against whiskey.

“I’ll just have another beer.” She shrugged, thankful for the red lighting of the neon light she was seated next to. “No problem. Hey, Sal,” He called the bartender from across the room for service, ordering two bud lights and turning his attention back to her, leaning his chin on a ringed hand.

“You ever been here before?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Y/n shook her head as their drinks were served. “What gave me away?” She shrugged, taking a sip.

“It’s rare a group of girls is sat up in here for a few hours.” He smiled, taking a drink himself.

“Are you implying that you’re here all the time?” She quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, her mouth gaping in sarcasm. Eddie looked like a fish out of water for a moment before she started giggling. “I’m just messing with you,” She pushed his shoulder playfully.

Eddie let out a relieved laugh, “Oh, god, sweetheart. I didn’t know what to do there. I swear I’m not here all the time, but I’m here a lot! As you can see I play music here, which I do pretty often...” He said with a shrug and tight smile.

“Well, I may have to come back if the talent is this nice every time, I really enjoyed the show—we all did.” She shrugged, looking to her lap to bite back a smile. “Thanks, y’know next time if you perform like you did in the crowd, I’ll have to pull you up on stage with me.” He chuckled, earning another blush from the girl across from him. “I bet you’re fun on car rides, huh?” He asked and nodded at her in understanding.

Y/n scoffed, “I mean, you could say that, I’ve had a lot of practice with car karaoke and all.” She giggled. “You had me smiling the whole time, I know performances like that take practice! It was perfect.” He said, like it was the simplest thing. Y/n sunk her teeth further into her lip to suppress another pathetic giggle.

“So what do you like, huh? What’s your story?” Eddie asked. Y/n took a swig and searched for the best way to share without sharing. “I.. work two jobs, during the day I'm a clerk at a book shop and most nights during the week I waitress at a grill.”

“I mean your hopes and dreams, babe, but also nice to know you’re a hardworkin’ woman, I respect that.” He said, raising his bottle to her before taking another drink. Y/n rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully repressed a smile. “I don’t really have any.”

“Dreams? C’mon, I know you can think big. If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?” He asked as if it were that simple.

“Uh, pfft... Damn. Hold on.” She nervously laughed as her mind blanked, no possibilities coming to the surface no matter how hard she tried. “Take your time, you got it.” He encouraged, nodding gently. Y/n looked ahead instead of at his distracting puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think my passion is gonna lie in a career, you know? I just wanna be able to find something that allows me to make enough money in order to get by and live a happy life and have good experiences with the people I love.”

Eddie wore a warm smile on his face as he scratched the bottom corner of his mouth, “You’re real cute, you know that?” He smiled, leaning forward to brush her hair away from her face.

Y/n avoided his eyes on her as they trailed down her profile; her lips, chin, neck and chest as she tilted the bottle back. When she finished she shrugged, “I’ve been told a time or two, what about you, huh? Did you know you’re real cute?” She flashed him a look and a smile, her words sending him into flattered laughter as he shook his head and drank again.

“I had a feeling I was real cute, but no one really tells me, sweetheart, so, thanks.” He winked and leaned in to get closer to her, reaching for her hand that rested on the bar beside them. “So, what’s your game, here, huh?” She asked as he played with her fingers, his eyes darting up to hers questioningly, “What do you mean?” He asked, unsure of the context of the question.

“I mean, are you trying to play the long game and take your time before you try to get in my pants or are you trying to take me out of here to fuck me in the back ally as soon as possible?” She asked bluntly with big sparkling doe eyes and then took a sip of her drink.

Eddie’s eyes widened, not in embarrassment, but because he didn’t know he came off that way, “Babe if I’m being honest, I didn’t even get this far in my head when I decided I needed to talk to you,” he said earnestly, leaning closer to her to talk over the other band now playing in the bar. “So, I guess to answer your question, I wanna play whatever game you’re playing, if that’s cool.” He shrugged easily, as though hiding his feelings wasn’t on his agenda.

Y/n sat back with her mouth gaping, running her eyes over his frame again like she’s just seeing him for the first time. “Ohh…” is all she could manage, shyness taking over briefly.

She was used to getting hit on in bars, the nights she made it out of the house during the month when she was able to leave Danny without problems. Love had been different since Adam passed. Y/n didn’t think love like that happened twice in the same lifetime—the most beautiful, head spinning love that embraced you and never wavered.

Adam and Y/n had been childhood friends, who soon grew into high school lovers. Adam and Y/n did everything together, truly two halves of a whole.

And when they got pregnant with Danny at the end of their junior year, they thought the curveball thrown their way would be the hardest it got, knowing they’d have each other for the rest of time.

Or until death.

When Adam was 18, he was involved in a car accident near the end of the pregnancy, passing at the scene. Y/n—17, pregnant, and practically widowed—swore off love, feeling as though letting another man into her life in Adam’s place was betrayal.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely. Sure, parenting alone isn’t for the weak, but she had her friends for emotional support, she didn’t need a man for that, and any fun thing she could think of doing either involved her son or her best friend. The more time went by, the more she convinced herself she could do it all alone.

So, over the last couple years, she settled for one night stands, sloppy goodnight kisses, handing out fake names and phone numbers like Halloween candy. But tonight was different.

Emotional intimacy of any kind was uncomfortable, the only man she was able to stay honest and open about her feelings with was one she’d known for a decade before she let him in her pants. Eddie had known her for two seconds and was upfront about his thoughts with so much ease it made her start setting up bricks.

“I-I, wasn’t expecting that answer.” She laughed awkwardly and took another sip, the bottle now over half gone. Eddie smirked and shook his head, his eyes never leaving her being for more than two seconds at a time.

“What was the answer you were expecting?” He asked. Y/n scanned around the room, landing on her friends who looked like they were having a wonderful time with Eddie’s friends who now occupied seats at their table. “I dunno, but no one’s ever been upfront about it, let alone put the ball in my court.” She said it like it was no big deal, but Eddie knew. He knew he got through to her. “Ugh, I hate basketball.” He smiled, trying to get her to relax again, he likes when she’s in control of the conversation. She mirrored his smile and rolled her eyes, the buzz of the current beer working over her head.

“So, uh, how’d you get into music?” She asked, steering the conversation another direction, which Eddie smiled at, knowing he was getting his shot. “I love that you asked that,” He blushed, a proud smile working its way onto his face, “When I moved in with my uncle around eleven or so years ago, he played a lot of Woody Guthrie, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, you know? The originals—the good stuff!” He emphasized; the passion evident by the gleam in his eyes and his movements, which she loved, “I got really into them, like, wore out the needle on the record player. I had that thing going all the time. Well, one day, I got home from a particularly shitty day at school, and there was an acoustic guitar on my bed.” He smiled nostalgically at the memory. “Wayne got me started and I’ve been in love with music ever since.” He shrugged.

Y/n nodded, her heart smiling at his ability to be soft, “That's such a sweet story, you and your uncle must be really close! That was so thoughtful of him.” She awed, Eddie blushed a deeper shade of red as he took a swig of his drink, nodding in agreement, “He’s great, honestly the best man I’ve ever known.” He chuckled nervously, looking at his hands and hating himself for the conversation turning this way so quickly. ‘Too much, dude, c’mon..’ he scolded himself.

“So do you still listen to Willie and Waylon or did you kick the old boys to the curb when you adopted Metallica and Ozzy into your repertoire?” She asked, which soothed his worries immediately. He chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, of course I still listen to them, I couldn’t abandon my roots like that!” He nudged her arm with his, his heart leaping when she joined in his laughter. “You listen to any old cowboy country?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, “I’m familiar with those old cowboys of yours. Except I’m more of a Johnny Cash fan.” She shrugged, taking him for a Willie Nelson enthusiast. “Let me guess, Folsom Prison Blues just really has a hold over you?” He teased, though he was right. “I can casually enjoy songs about prison and crime, alright?” She played into it.

Y/n liked Eddie, that was never a question, but was she afraid? No, but kind of intimidated? Yeah, that’s more like it. She shrugged off her denim jacket, leaving her in her tank top and showing off her tattoos.

“Nice ink, care to give me a tour?” He asked, nodding to her body, most definitely not looking at her tattoos but rather her chest and abdomen, wondering if there were more under the clothes.

She smiled, no guy ever taking the time to notice and ask, the most attention they ever got were ‘Ugh, tatted girls are my favorite’ or ‘do you have any tattoos in other places?’ Eddie may be the first guy to refer to her artwork respectfully. It made her want to show him more than she should.

She pointed to the art on her forearms, the sun on one side, the moon on the other, “These were my first and second,” she nodded, turned to show him the back of her bicep, where a bundle of flowers sat in a broken vase, “this is the third,” she pulled up the side of her shirt to show the bottom of an expansive art piece on her ribs, “fourth,”

Eddie watched on intently, trying to commit them all to memory. She turned to the wall, gathering her hair up in a ponytail to show the fifth tattoo on the back of her neck, “Number five may have hurt the most,” she mentioned as he took in the detail of the moth, slightly bummed when she turned back around. “And six through ten are unable to be shown at this time,” she giggled, picking her beer back up and tilting it back til it was empty.

Before Eddie answered, he turned to order her another, a smile rising to her cheeks at the gesture until she scolded herself, ‘Oh, two beers, what a dreamboat.’

Expecting some sleazy question about when he’d get to see the rest, she was surprised when all he asked was, “So how old were you when you got your first two?” Her eyebrows shot up. A real question?

“I was 16.” she nodded, his eyes widening, “Damn, who was your artist?? I couldn’t get anyone to tattoo me till I was 17, and even then it didn’t turn out right, I was so bummed.” He said strongly, his inflection making her laugh.

“He was my friend's brother,” she shrugged, “So does this mean you’re gonna give me a tattoo tour?” She couldn't resist through giggles. Eddie raised his eyebrows at her, “Oh, I thought you’d never ask, angel.” He said with a smile that could’ve been mistaken for devious, but really that was just Eddie.

He quickly shrugged off his vest and jacket like she had, holding out his arm and turning it slowly to point out his bats. Y/n felt heat rising in her stomach at the sound of him explaining the backstory behind them all, some of which he drew himself, others he found in fantasy novels or had them drawn up by his friend at the shop he frequents now that he isn’t a minor.

“And I love this little demon dude right here,” he said to the area by his collarbone, his hand holding his neckline open more than needed, the fleshy expanse of his chest looking delicious with cinnamon colored freckles sprinkled across it.

Y/n leaned forward to look at the detail of the crazy face it made, laughing easily and looking back up to Eddie; it definitely felt like him. “This one is my most recent, after my favorite Metallica song—“ he rolled up his sleeve to show the puppet master on his forearm,

“Master of Puppets?” She asked before he could say it, his head snapped up to her with a surprise grin, “Yeah, exactly! March of ‘86 I holed up in my room and just listened to it over and over again until I could work out the chords, then it felt like I worked my fingers to the bone trying to get it down. It was a challenge, but it was definitely a defining moment in my music journey, you know?” He nodded, sharing that sliver of himself without trouble. It made Y/n intrigued, yet jealous. She wanted to be able to do that without locking up.

“Wait, you learned it by ear? Amazing! You must be some sort of musical genius.” She said, fully meaning the sentiment, when Eddie scoffed and shook his head humorlessly. “That’s really sweet, thanks, but I’m far from a genius.” He averted his gaze, shyness creeping in.

Y/n cocked her head, sensing she struck a nerve of his, one she would be sure not to touch on again. “You think I’ll get to hear you play it sometime?” She said, brushing his sitting hand with her fingers, gathering some courage.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, “I’d love to play some Metallica for you.” He nodded eagerly. Y/n giggled and took another drink, the liquid courage catching up to her. “Are you gonna give me a private performance? Or should I come back when Corroded Coffin is playing next?” She said suggestively.

Eddie perked up at this, not sure if he’s hearing the implied meaning behind her words correctly. “Why not both? I mean, if the private performance goes well.” He chuckled nervously and sipped his new beer. Y/n looked at his hands, noticing his rings and how each one was different.

The chatter of the crowd around them and the music from the stage was a good excuse to keep leaning forward, thanking herself for wearing a low cut top. She held out her hand, Eddie cocked his head and eased his hand into hers tentatively. She immediately took to his rings, ogling them.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s gonna be great. I saw these fingered working up there earlier and couldn’t keep my eyes off them. These are pretty metal, I must say.” She looked the jewlery over with a quiet and heavy lidded smile. Eddie’s cheeks heated up at their closeness, noticing how she stroked his palm and wrist and stopped paying attention to his jewelry, holding her gaze on his lips.

“Uhm,” he swallowed hard, “W-Would you wanna maybe have that private performance.. now?”

Y/n’s eyes flickered with hope, “Where at, rockstar?” She bit her lip, looking him over and interlacing their fingers. “I—Depends on how long you’re willing to wait, Princess, you think you wanna come back to my place? Or are you more of a ‘right here right now’ kinda girl?” He said in her ear slowly, taking hold of her forearm and stroking it lovingly; mapping out every scar and freckle that lay there.

“Where do you prefer?” She said, shamelessly stroking the column of his neck with her thumb, which sent shivers down his spine. “Baby, I’ll take you anywhere I can get you.” He whispered, his breath fanning over her ear and cheek. Her chest began to heave in want while her eyes roamed his body beneath his clothing, wondering where else he had tattooed.

“Y’know, I have a very spacious van parked in the alley out back, if that’s your kinda thing, but I simply can’t wait another second to touch you.” He whispered nervously, hoping he wasn't ruining everything by crossing the unspoken line between them. Y/n’s eyes turned hungry as she nodded, “Can we do a shot first?” She asked, buzzed and still giddy enough she needed to calm down.

Eddie bit his lip, “I like the way you think, sweetheart, what do you want?” He turned to call Sal the bartender.

“Tequila!” She nudged his arm, looking at the jug on the shelf. “I didn’t take you for a tequila girl.” He smiled, grabbing a shaker from behind the bar and sprinkling himself some salt on the back of his hand as Sal poured them up, setting out limes before leaving.

“I’m not, usually,” she said while sprinkling the salt onto her hand, “Figured it’d be good for tonight—makes my clothes fall off.” She shrugged before licking up the strip of beer salt and throwing back the shot, picking up the lime wedge and sucking.

A moan of relief slipped out as the fresh citrus flooded her mouth. Eddie sat unmoving with his mouth gaping, hand still at the ready to take his shot. “Oh my god.” He breathed, taking the shot and matching her speed for courage.

Y/n hopped up as he set down his glass, sauntering through the door as he paid their tab and looked across the room to his buddies who sported amused and knowing looks as their friend stuck his tongue between his teeth in a victorious grin, slapping down a $10 tip on top of the total because he was feeling especially generous.

“Don’t get your hopes up, lover boy, we’ll still be here when you get back.” Her friend said pointedly, the rest of them sniggering along with Eddie’s friends. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said incredulously, leaning his weight back on the door to meet his dream girl outside.

She stood under the lamppost smoking a cigarette, her jacket back around her shoulders, which made Eddie eager to take it off later. “Hey, there.” He smiled, shrugging on his own jacket, the leather cold before melting into warmth at the touch of his skin. “Hiya.” She giggled behind the cigarette.

Eddie allowed himself to act on his impulses and stepped closer to her until he had to look down, the end of her cigarette a few inches away from him before she removed it and turned away to blow the smoke— ‘What a sweetheart.’ He thought.

“Think I could have a hit off that?” He smiled, his eyes looking over her pretty face in the new lighting, her features so much clearer now. He couldn’t get over the shape of her lips, watching them stretch as she revealed the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Instead of answering, she stuck her cigarette between his smiling lips, holding onto his shoulder to steady herself. He hummed contently at her promptness and wrapped an arm around her waist, finding the sliver of flesh that rested above the top of her jeans until he grasped her wrist and moved her hand away to exhale to the side and then interlace her other hand in his.

Y/n watched on thoughtlessly as he brought the new hand up to his lips to kiss her finger tips one at a time, then her knuckles and wrist, before flipping her hand over and pressing a kiss to her palm, nipping at it with his teeth and wrapping the arm around his neck— bringing her giggling lips to his and pulling her into a tight embrace, lips working against one another eagerly while his hands cradled her neck and upper back tenderly. Y/n didn’t realize it until she felt the shift of gravity, but she figured out Eddie was leaning her backward, trying to dip her romantically in his almost drunken state after the shot. Her hair fell back, the world slowly turning upside down at his hands, his kiss melting any sense of care away.

‘So what the moon is on the bottom and the cars are on top? I could hold onto him forever.’

‘You’re saying that because you’re drunk and horny, get on with it.’

They pulled away when they were almost falling, both of them laughing breathlessly. Eddie pressed one more kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and gently tugging on her to follow, “C’mon, pretty girl, lemme show you what else I got.” He teased, admiring how deeply pink her neck and chest were burning.

They ran like giggly school children together around the building, as if they’d get caught and have their parents called. Eddie relished in the warmth her hand gave him— wondering how warm they were about to be pressed up against each other in the van.

He unlocked the doors, swinging one open and gesturing inside, “After you.” He bit his lip, worried that at any point she’d turn back. Instead, Y/n raised her eyebrows at him briefly, shooting him a coy smile before taking his hand and stepping up and in. Eddie licked his lips and swung the door shut behind him.

From the moment he turned around, she was on him, her arm snaking around his neck, her other pulling his waist to hers by his belt loop and bringing him in for another hungry kiss.

The quiet of the van amplified the sounds they made together, every moan, gasp, smack, and groan audible, though neither of them minded, if anything they loved it. His hands found her hair, gently stroking it like he’d been dying to since he saw her flipping it around during his set.

He trailed his hand down the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw sent shivers down her spine. She broke the kiss, pausing in the space between them before they went further. His eyes opened to see her looking at his lips, only looking into his eyes when he smiled softly, “You still good? We don’t have to, you know. I’ve had a lot of fun with you tonight.” He said easily, no hint of pettiness in his tone.

Y/n smiled at his words, leaning into his hand more, “I’m having a great time too,” he exhaled slowly, relief evident on his face. “I was just wondering if I needed to climb you like a tree or lay you down, big boy.” She winked with a smile on her lips, laughing when he flopped down to the floor immediately.

“You really just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?” He looked at her with wide eyes in amusement. “I swear everything you say does something to me, baby.” He mumbled, too busy watching her settle her body on top of his lap and strip off her shirt, revealing her lace bra. “Holy shit.” He gasped, wrapping his hands around her revealed bodice to get a better look at her while she leaned forward onto his chest to stroke him with her fingernails through his shirt.

Eddie sat all the way up to pull her body closer to his, “Holy fucking shit, you’re beautiful.” He struggled to look her in the eye as he bounced back and forth between her soft torso and beautiful face. She looked down at him patiently, not used to the compliments, soaking it all up while she could.

“Eddie?” She whispered, stroking his hair and pulling him from his thoughts. “Yes?” He asked earnestly, gazing into her eyes as if he were ready to do anything she asked of him, which he was. She leaned over by his ear, balling his shirt up in her fists, “Can we take this off?” She snickered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by his jaw and neck.

His heart began hammering again as she mouthed at the crook of his neck, thoughts evaporating from his head—including his ability to speak. He remembered he needed to answer only when she slid her hands up underneath the hem at his side, a jolt of electricity sent straight to his dick at the contact.

“Oh, yeah,” he said through her kisses, allowing her to raise it above his head and discard it to the side with hers, her reaction to the rest of his tattoos stroking his ego as she bit her lip and ran her hands across him. “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” He whispered against her before diving back in for more.

He fixed his hands to the meat at her hips, grinding her on his cock that strained against his jeans. He smirked at the pretty little sound she made when she started moving her hips on her own, rolling them in a way that drove Eddie wild. His hands flew to her chest, massaging the plush of her breasts that begged to be let out of their confines.

“Baby, can I get rid of this?” He asked helplessly, stroking the skin above the clasp at her back. Y/n smiled, her nose bumping his as she nodded and said, “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” She bit her lip as he smiled like a child on Christmas morning. He went about popping the hooks from the small hoops and sliding the straps off her arms at a nice pace, consciously trying to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to freak her out or make her think he was too eager.

Eddie had his fair share of one night stands, fond memories for his spank bank until the next came along, but none of them compared to this. This was something he’d think of forever.

“Jesus Christ.” He said softly, his eyes taking in the ethereal sight—the bounce of her freed breasts as they fell and soft skin just begging to be marked up and grabbed.

But the best part was the tattoo that sat underneath them. “It’s beautiful.” He breathed, taking her waist in his hands and examining her body like art, trying to find the rest of her tattoos and not bust his load at her perky nipples looking so excited to see him.

“You’re divine, really, baby, I’ve never seen anyone like you before…” He trailed off in wonder, grazing his fingers softly over the ink. She looked at him looking at her, dazed and confused by this stranger’s courtesy and gentleness that could only match—

She tilted his chin up towards hers to stop the thoughts from rolling in, never thinking about Adam during times like these— let alone comparing him, and pressed a soft and hungry kiss to his lips, licking into his mouth. Eddie bucked his hips and groaned at the feeling of both her bare tits against his chest and her tongue in his mouth.

He went to work rubbing her breasts, easing her into a heated pile of mush on top of him, trying to get her to relax further into his touch. “You gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asked, nipping at her bottom lip to make her cry out.

“Yes, please fuck me, Eddie.” She whined breathlessly, their thrusts becoming more intense along with their breathing. Eddie laid her down backwards, her legs still around his hips as he kneeled above her, admiring the way her tits bobbed when she fell against the plush blanket pallet he kept.

Her eyes gleamed as they bore into his. He smiled down at her, brushing his fingers around her hairline and stopping at her cheekbone to unbutton her pants, her heart feeling content like a purring cat. “You’ve got me so wet, Eddie.” She whispered, palming her left tit and grazing her fingers down her stomach as he worked at sliding her pants off.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her touching herself the way she was, only ever seeing girls do it in magazines, he never thought he’d see one do it in real life. “I wanna watch you touch yourself,” He whispered, dropping her jeans next to her shirt and opening her legs slowly to encourage her.

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she gave him a little smile and slid her hand into the front of her panties, sighing at the contact and writhing a little as she found exactly where she needed to touch. Eddie looked on in amazement, stroking himself over his jeans as he looked down at the angel laying in front of him. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He mumbled and licked his lips at the wetness pooling in her panties and the bits of flesh he could make out around the straining fabric of the lavender cotton.

He sat there mesmerized at the way her fingers disappeared inside of her, the way she tweaked her clit in time with the thrusts of her wrist and the way she kept her eyes on him the whole time she did so, reminding him that even if he wasn’t touching her, he was the one making her feel good.

Eddie slowly stroked her hips where the elastic sat, tugging lightly at the band until she raised her ass off the floor so he could slip them off her legs and toss them to the growing pile. A thin sheen started to coat her skin, glittering in the dim light of the van. Eddie ran a light and tender hand up her leg and then rubbed encouraging circles on the inside of her thighs, aching to bury his face in her wetness and send her further into the abyss of pleasure.

Y/n rubbed herself gently, opening her eyes as Eddie’s hands came closer to her throbbing core. “Touch me, please…” she whined, looking at him as if she’s waited for his touch for years and then letting them fall shut. Eddie’s eyes widened, his cock desperately needing relief, her eye contact and plea just made it worse.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” Eddie took off his boxers quickly, moaning in relief and stroking his dick as he eased on top of her, caging her in with his arms. She gasped when she opened her eyes again to see him naked and godly before her. “Is that okay?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, sending her eyes rolling to the back of her head, “Yes, please… Oh, fuck…” she groaned, feeling his weight on top of her as he adjusted her thighs around him, stroking her hips and lower back lovingly. “God damn, you’re so fucking soft, baby, I can’t get enough of you.” He breathed into her, reaching for her breast and meeting her for a warm and wet kiss, complete with teeth tugging lips, tongues licking skin, and quiet and satisfied giggles slipping out every now and then.

They reveled in each other’s nakedness, the feeling of skin on skin lighting them on fire—their hands and lips roaming everywhere.

Eddie took care to latch his mouth onto her nipple as he worked the other one with his tender touch. Her hands stayed in his hair, the mess of it scattered around him as he moved, though she didn’t mind.

Y/n thought she was going to lose her mind before he touched her pussy, swollen and dripping for him when he ran a tentative finger through her folds, “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you, baby?” He set a slow yet satisfying pace, bumping her clit with every movement as her hand slipped further into his curls, tightening her grip to Eddie’s delight.

With every pant that left her came an adorable little noise, only audible in the space between them as they moved against one another. Eddie smiled to himself, his ego loving all of the praise this girl gave him.

“If you want something you need to ask for it—wanna make you feel good.” He said in between messy kisses along her shoulder. “Eddie, I need you to fuck me.” She whispered to him urgently, pulling his face up to hers with desperation.

“Uh, y-you don’t want me to eat you? C’mon baby, don’t get shy on me now.” He stammered, having been so close to the honey pot he desperately thirsted for. “Uh-uh..” She said, gently shaking her head ‘no’ and taking his cock in her hand.

Her hand traced the length of his shaft, pulling an inhuman grunt from him, a smirk of satisfaction crossing her face as he thrust his hips involuntarily. “Just, uh, lemme..fuck, lemme—lemme get a condom,” he managed through her firm strokes.

Eddie grabbed the chain on his pants, yanking his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve a gold foil package inside. Y/n admired his waist, tracing the dragon that wrapped around the side of his torso as he worked the condom on, stroking himself a couple times before moving back over her, who took no hesitation in wrapping her legs back around him, a giddy smile on her face that matched his. “C’mere, you pretty little thing.” He growled in her ear playfully while descending upon her, pressing his fingers into the plush of her thighs that enveloped him perfectly and kissing her giggling lips like they already belonged to him.

The laughter subsided as the kisses grew deeper and longer, when they pulled back and opened their eyes, they looked at each other like more than a couple strangers fucking in the back of a van for the first time— more like lovers who’d cross space and time to be together just for one night.

“You, uh, wanna put it in?” He asked, a blush dusting his cheeks as he hovered over her, stroking her bum and thigh as he waited. Y/n gently guided his member to her entrance while Eddie placed his other hand around her breast—poised to antagonize her nipple.

After the tip pressed against her, Eddie groaned as he sunk into her, his chest flattening onto hers until they could catch their breath. “You take me so well, baby, oh fuck,” He gasped next to her head, pushing some hair away from her ear and neck to dive down and nuzzle his face there.

“You fill me up so good, Eddie, oh my god.” She gasped as he propped himself up on his hands, gazing into her eyes as he started moving, her pussy gripping him so tight it’s hard for him to pull out and push back in. “Holy shit, do—is that good? Is that good for you?” He asked in quiet awe at the sensation they created together, in and out, in and out.

“Yeah— yeah, it is.” She said, fighting against the ecstasy she was slipping into to keep her eyes open. As Eddie worked his first few thrusts, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together like they had many times that night, though Y/n was expecting him to hold her wrists above her head like she’s used to, but no. Eddie rested their joined hands next to her head and smoothed her hair affectionately.

“You’re such a pretty girl, y’feel so good on my cock...” He said in awe as he picked up the pace and sent a jolt to her throbbing core when he pinched and rolled her nipple in his other hand. Y/n let out a groan at the feeling, the sound only encouraging Eddie to do what he’d been dreaming of since the moment she took off her jacket in the bar.

Eddie smirked at her anguish, the sparkle in his eye only confirming the mischief he emanated. “You want me to take my time with you?” He panted, slipping his hand in between them and finding her clit, spreading their wetness over it before slowly circling it, knowing exactly how desperate she was to cum.

“No-No, no…please, no. I n-need you to go faster Eddie, I don’t want you to stop til you cum—“ without hesitation, Eddie adjusted his grip on her leg and pressed down on her clit, enough to scratch that unbearable itch that antagonized her deep in her nerves. “Holy shit, Eddie! Oh my god, keep going, yes!” Her back arched off the floor, her chin jutted upwards exposing her neck, which Eddie took advantage of and served up heated kisses all around her throat as she cried out.

“ ‘m close, Eddie, you’re so good, so fucking good!” She mumbled her eyes heavy and eyebrows scrunched in distress, her hand roamed his body with reckless abandon, giving feather light touches across his neck and shoulders then sinking her nails down his back and grabbing his hip as he slammed into her hot cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving a hand from her chest to her throat while still holding her other hand tenderly next to them. “ ‘s this okay?” He whispered, keeping a light hold on her neck until she answered.

“Yeah..” She whispered pathetically, bringing her free hand on top of his and closing his grip around it the way she liked, just enough to get a little dizzy on top of the beer buzz, then moaning into his touch as she rocked against him the best she could while the sounds of skin slapping skin resounded between them. Eddie looked down at where they connected, unable to get enough of the sight of his cock burrowing inside of her.

“I want you to cum, baby, I wanna feel it—wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Lemme ride!” She insisted quietly like a secret. Eddie's eyes lit up at her enthusiasm and nodded before promptly rolling off of her, eager for her to be back in charge. He scooted himself against the back of the seat, “You want me here?” He asked as she crawled over to him. Eddie barely noticed his hands reaching out for her, but when he did she was already settling on his lap, his member standing between them as she laid a hand against his soft chest and used her other to stroke him. Eddie sighed as he circled his arms around her waist to pull her impossibly closer. “Yeah, baby, you’re perfect.” She whispered, though she didn’t mean to let it slip—the pet name or the word perfect. Eddie preened at the praise, desperate for her validation and affection.

She wasn’t usually one for pet names, or for praising her sexual partners. Up until now, sex felt transactional, and those things weren’t apart of the deal. But with Eddie the praises dropped from her lips effortlessly, and most times involuntarily.

Her hands found his hair, lightly raking her nails on his scalp which made him lean into her. Eddie felt like he hadn’t kissed her lips in years when she pressed hers to his in a thirsting kiss, chasing after his tongue with hers. They moaned into each other as she sat back down on his dick, not wasting any time in setting her quick pace.

Eddie's jaw dropped at the feeling, the warm, wet, silky tunnel that squeezed him so unmercifully he could hardly catch his breath, though he didn’t care because he was too busy bathing in her ecstasy. “Ohh, fuck me..” he groaned against her lips as she exclaimed in delight.

She pulled back from him, her hands holding his cheeks tenderly before dropping to his shoulders for more leverage. Eddie’s hands slithered down to her hips, focusing on the softness of her skin under his hands as he squeezed and squished. “Ohh, my god, angel.. I-I don’t know how much more I can take, I need you to cum, baby, can you? Can you come for me?” He pleaded softly and felt her tighten at his words, “Oh, you like it? You like it when I talk to you?” He tested, feeling her squeeze again and watching her bite her lip as she nodded, slowing her bounces to a roll, not wanting to leave this bubble of pure pleasure just yet.

Eddie moved his hands from her hips to her breasts, pinching both of her nipples in his fingers while he bucked his hips up against her. “Your body is so fun to play with, sweetheart.” He gazed into her sparkling eyes and then her mouth while waiting desperately for his kiss, moaned at the comment. “You think I’ll make you cum?” He asked, his low and gravelly tone masking his insecurity. Should she have finished by now? Maybe made more noises?

“Yeah, yeah—you’re doing so good!” She whispered eagerly before picking up her pace and kissing him passionately. They kissed until the sensation was too much, the electricity brewing within them lighting their cores on fire as they chased their orgasms together. Their noises were involuntary at this point, though listening to one another grunt and moan drove them further to the edge at a blinding speed.

“Eddie! Eddie, are you gonna cum with me?” She asked his lips desperately, now holding back from her climax til he could answer her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, cum! Cum, baby, cum! Cum on my dick and I’ll cum for you.” He rambled like a madman, like an addict without a fix. He had no idea that this was just the first taste, that this was only the beginning.

His words wrapped her in a wonderful haze, everything was only Eddie. “Please, baby, let me make you cum. Let me take care of you.” He panted into her ear as he kissed and nibbled her neck just under it. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out, her core tensed before the white hot pleasure melted over her body, head to toe. “Eddie, I’m cumming! Cum with me, cum with me!” She pleaded, too busy basking in euphoria to feel pathetic. She grabbed at the back of his neck with both hands, engulfing his lips with hers.

Her sounds, her kiss, the walls of her pussy clenching around him—it was all too much. He cried out as his cock spasmed inside of her, rutting up into her roughly as he lived in her warmth and and rode out the rush that eventually faded right before she went limp on top of him.

They both fought to catch their breath, settling into one another in a new way. Y/n blinked hard, noticing how her arms and legs wrapped around him to keep close, and how he wrapped his arms around her waist for the same. The embrace was comforting, like a warm hug from someone you love after a long day—it felt like home.

She typically knew where to go from here, opting to throw her clothes back on and send the guy a ‘see you later!’ before going home and forgetting their name within a couple days. But with Eddie, she found herself reluctant to leave. Instead, she stayed in this little space for now; her lips grazing the soft pale skin of his shoulder, his heavy pants against hers. Her fingers buried in the back of his curls frizzy from the humidity they produced and tickling the side of her face, though it wasn’t unbearable. She felt like she could breathe deeper with his arms squeezing around her middle as if she were his teddy bear.

“God, you were amazing, angel.” He whispered to her with a smile, stroking the length of her back lovingly and curling his other fingers in her hair, trying to learn her body the way he craved. He wanted to remember exactly how it all felt—how she felt and made him feel.

She turned her head to look at him, lightly stroking the side of his face with her fingers and smiling softly, saddened at the prospect of leaving without any intention of seeing him again—though she wanted to deeply.

Y/n pulled him in for another kiss, this one much slower as she tried to memorize him. Her mind went warm and fuzzy as they set the passionate pace, each movement she made followed by ‘Last one… another one, just one more..’ until she felt Eddie adjust them to lay backwards and begin to roll on top of her, his cock hardening again already.

“Eddie,” She panted into him as he fixed his grip on her legs, pushing her knees back and pulling a sigh from her as he continued to kiss her swollen lips. “Eddie,” she groaned as he kissed her neck again, lightly tilting her chin back with his hand and making her melt into his touch.

“I’m not afraid to stay here with you all night, baby, just tell me what you want…” He whispered, stroking the side of her neck with his thumb as he spoke into her ear.

“I-I have to go, Eddie, I’m sorry.” She managed, pushing some hair away from his face. His eyes widened at her words, caught off guard. “Oh, I’m sorry! Was I keeping you?” He sat upright, grabbing her clothes for her and handing them over before picking up his own and stripping off the condom and tying it off to be dealt with later.

“No, no, you’re fine—great, even!” She scrambled to yank on her pants, ignoring the amused smirk that sat on Eddie’s face as he tugged his own black denim over his boxers and admired her as if he’d never had her before.

She threw on her bra and leaned over to adjust her breasts in the cups, pulling a soft gasp from Eddie—he had no idea watching a girl get dressed was just as fun as watching her get undressed. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she made eye contact with him, sending him a sly smile and wink as she prepared to tug her shirt over her head.

Eddie grabbed her shoes and set them in front of her, spotting his pack of cigarettes by the rest of his clothes and grabbing one out to light as she tied her laces. He noticed the windows were fogged and he smiled around the filter while he puffed.

Though he’d watched her dress, he turned one more time to make sure she was decent before opening up the back doors to the van, the cool night air drifting in and tickling the moisture that collected at their hairlines during the fun.

“So, uh, I-I had a really good time with you tonight.” He fumbled, quickly placing his cigarette back in his mouth after he’d spoken. Y/n smiled at his nervousness and nodded in agreement. “Me too, it’s uh, it’s been a while since it’s been that good for me—with another person, you know?” She said candidly, inwardly shocked she was able to muster up the confidence to share that.

Eddies eyes widened at the information, a hopeful leap in his chest told him that sex made her open up—made her feel close. He nodded in response, removing the cigarette and exhaling. “Y-Yeah, yeah, for sure. I, uh, don’t have many one night stands, but, uh, I can say for sure that it hasn’t been like that before.” He nodded, then realized he said one night stand. His face turned to hers quickly, the alarm apparent in his eyes.

She must’ve noticed his panic, leaning in to place a quick peck on his lips before nicking his cigarette and taking a drag. He chuckled softly as she hopped out of the back and stood in front of him between his legs, retrieving her jacket and shrugging it over her shoulders, fixing her hair in the process. He placed patient hands on her waist, letting her smoke as much as she wanted to if it meant she stayed with him longer.

“When can I see you again?” He asked hopefully.

Y/n giggled, handing him the cigarette back, which he accepted reluctantly. “That’s not very ‘one night stand’ of you, is it, Eddie?” She teased, testing if his big brown eyes deflated in hope a little, though really it looked like it took the air from him.

“How about…” she trailed off and averted her eyes to the ground, searching for a reason to see him again that isn’t more than what it can be. She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of seeing him again, let alone wishing she could stay the night. He felt so familiar.

Eddie searched for her gaze with his, successfully pulling her eyes back on him. “How about, I come see Corroded Coffin again? You said you play here often— how often?” She asked, putting her arms on his shoulders and grinning when his hands found her arms and rubbed them softly as he nodded. “We play again next friday.” He smiled.

She nodded at him thoughtfully, not fully present but stuck in the corner of her mind that told her she was being indulgent, that leaving Danny once a month to go out with her friends was selfish as it is, not to mention sleeping with strangers just to feel something, to feel reckless as safely as possible, to feel her age— was too much. She wasn’t supposed to do things people her age did, she was a mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to feel this with someone else, the way it only felt with—

“I’ll see you next Friday.” She nodded decidedly, turning on her heel and beginning her walk to the front of the building, though Eddie caught up quickly to catch her arm before she could get any further. “Wait, wait, wait, one more?” He asked, taking a hopeful lip waiting between his teeth as he held her close.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at him before taking his face in her hands and laying a deep kiss to his lips, relishing the butterflies that fluttered relentlessly in her stomach when his hands slipped around her body one last time, pulling back slowly and hesitating before disconnecting their bodies. Eddie quickly took her face in his, sprinkling kisses all over her face, “Thank you, sweet girl.” He said as she giggled.

“Lemme walk you inside?” He asked like a sweet freshman boy at the end of his first date. Y/n sighed, self hatred spreading through her mind like a disease as she nodded with a smile. Eddie grinned and darted back to the van to retrieve his shirt and pull it over his head on his way back, holding out an expectant hand for her that made her heart both flutter and sink, somehow.

The only noise between them on their walk was the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes and the sounds of the night in summertime. Eddie swung their hands between them, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to stay forward facing.

He opened the door of the bar, looking her over once more and halting her to fix her jacket collar with a focused tongue between his lips before allowing her to continue and opening the door again.

Their groups were a little drunker than they left them, talking amongst themselves and producing boisterous laughter as they walked in. “Ohh ho, look who it is!” Gareth bellowed, pointing a finger at his friend who looked so proud under his blush.

Y/n’s friends looked at her hand intertwined with Eddie’s, sending her taunting looks that said ‘we are definitely talking about this later’ and bit back chuckles unsuccessfully. She looked at her best friend Stella, who took a nonchalant sip to cover her smirk while obviously averting eye contact.

“W-We gotta go, friends!” Y/n tapped her always watchless wrist, not wanting to keep her sitter waiting forever. The girls nodded in silent understanding, always aware of the curfew she kept for herself, and stood to collect their things and pay their tabs.

The members of Corroded Coffin looked at Eddie with sparkling and expectant eyes, ready to hear about the details as soon as the ladies left the premises. Eddie had recounted his sexcapades to his friends in the past, the storyteller in him going off on all the details—both educating them and giving them material for the spank bank.

But this time he wanted to hold onto it for himself—this girl was special and she made him feel special. Something about her essence was addicting, not to mention her face was the best one he’d ever seen.

“I’ll, uh, see you later, Eddie.” She mumbled to him, easing her hand out of his. “Looking forward to it.” He smiled softly, watching her go until the others were leaving out the doors. Sabrina hung behind and looked him over as if she were sizing him up, followed with a curt nod before disappearing out the doors.

Eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the boys applauded. “I must say, I am very impressed, my friend. I can’t believe you got her back to your van so fast, wow.” Gareth speculated drunkenly to Eddie’s annoyance.

“Don’t talk about her that way. That doesn’t mean anything, girls can do whatever they want, especially if it benefits me. I would’ve taken her back to my place if she hadn’t had some curfew to beat or something. Besides, she’s coming back next week.” He said, turning a chair around backwards and straddling it while picking up a beer from the table and taking a sip. “Whoa, you have another date?” Jeff gaped. “A curfew?” Gareth asked with disbelief.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “This wasn’t a date, we just met—and I don’t know if you’d even call it a date, it’ll probably just be a repeat of tonight, and so what Emerson, like your mom isn’t on your ass about being home by 2am even if you’re a big boy now.” Eddie jeered, Gareth rolling his eyes. “Alright, say she does come back and you guys go round two, then what?” Grant asked.

Eddie paused, pursing his lips for a moment as the boys leaned forward in anticipation. “I’m following her lead so… guess I’ll know next week.” He shrugged.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

On an excruciating car ride home, while receiving the third degree from her friends as they howled out mocking cries of ‘Eddie! Oh god, give it to me’ and ‘And you were holding HANDS! What was that all about??’ Y/n did her best to defend her time with Eddie without showing she liked it too much.

“H-He’s really sweet, alright?” Y/n shrugged their taunts off, turning her attention to the radio and puffing on her last cigarette of the night—cause she was trying to cut back. “Did you see the way he looked at her though??” Mollie shrieked from the back seat, her eyes wide in amazement. Stella laughed from the steering wheel, “Like a lovesick puppy!” She agreed. Y/n blushed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, dudes do that sometimes.” She countered, mostly to convince herself.

“Okay, but— the way he didn’t wanna let go of your hand? C’mon. You’ve gotta give the poor guy a chance.” Mollie nudged her shoulder, earning a weak push back from Y/n who scoffed, “Well you’re about to be so pleased.” She smirked behind her cigarette as the whole car hushed, “Wait a damn minute, are you going out? Did he ask? Did you say yes?” Mollie freaked.

“Hey, hey, hey, slow down, Molls, I only told him we’d come back next Friday to listen to the band again.” She shrugged again, the silence already annoying.

“Oh, my GOD.” Stella exclaimed, “You do like him.” Stella argued, “Do not! Not like that.” Y/n shot back.

Everyone in the car collectively eyerolled and groaned, “How do you not? You don’t go to bars more than once a month and suddenly you wanna come back to this one next week just cause he’s, what, fun? You have plenty of fun, we all know it! And you should! But what’s so wrong with liking him? You’re allowed to love people, Y/n/n.” Stella urged while keeping her eyes on the road.

Y/n couldn’t look at any of her friends, either, unable to come up with another reason to see Eddie— one that didn’t involve her budding feelings for him, or at least the way he made her feel.

“C’mon, play pretend for a minute and tell me all the things about Eddie that made you fluttery inside.” Stella suggested, Kathy and Mollie nonchalantly leaning in to listen. Y/n sighed to the stars out the open car window, pausing before she chose to respond.

“…if I did like Eddie… it’d be because he talked to me, like actually talked to me.. It’d be because he didn’t make me feel like a piece of meat when he bought me the drink—it never felt like he expected anything in return…He never made me feel like sex was something I had to do, up until the last moment he was always asking as if I’d change my mind..

And when I told him I wanted to he told me he’d take me anywhere, to his house, to his car—if I asked him to get a motel room I bet he would. That guy makes me feel like he’d do anything I asked and it’s weird. No, not weird—scary. I can’t tell if it’s real or not, and if it is, isn’t that scarier? I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, and what if I hurt a good guy? Not to mention Danny. No 20 something year old dude is going to want someone else’s three year old boy hanging around—making me flake on dates, pitching fits when he is around, it’s just the facts. I’m not ready.” She cased.

Silence fell over the car as they pulled into Y/n’s driveway. “Y’know, you made some really good points, Y/n.” Stella said, putting the car in park. Mollie and Kathy looked at Stella in disbelief, “She did?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s every reason anyone ever decided against taking their chance on love. I just thought she’d have better reasons, or better yet; I thought she’d be braver than all of those things.” Stella shrugged, her words catching Y/n’s attention like rubbing alcohol on a scrape.

“I mean, c’mon, man, you did the whole ‘against-the-odds-teen-parent’ thing, and you’re rocking that shit, I might add.” She pointed at the young mother from across the console who blushed at the compliment and rolled her eyes trying to feign annoyance, though the girls knew how awful she was at handling praise.

“I never thought you’d be so afraid of love, man. Adam would want you to be happy, he’d want Danny to grow up with a good guy in his life!”

“Well, Adam’s not here.” Y/n bit back, the annoying prickly stinging at her eyes clouding her pride as she regretted her words. Stella hesitated before she reached out for her friend's shoulder. “I know. I know he isn’t,” Stella sighed, “But tell me I’m wrong, Y/n/n.”

Y/n looked at Stella and then Mollie and Kathy who sat patiently in the back and sighed, their eyes engaged on the conversation with quiet care. “I can’t.” She mumbled, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Just think about it! You don’t have to have it all figured out yet.” She nodded encouragingly.

Y/n glanced at the front door and the porch light buzzed as moths darted all around it, mesmerized and unsatisfied. She stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door, leaning down to the open window. “Are we good to go for next Friday or am I going alone?” She asked, hoping she didn’t sound desperate.

The friends looked between each other and giggled, “We wouldn’t miss it. But you’re talking him into buying us a round before you ditch us, again!” Mollie jeered and stuck her tongue out. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and tapped the window sill twice, “I gotta get in there. I love you guys. Drive safe! Gimme a call when you’re home.” She looked at all of them pointedly and jogged up the steps to her house.

She slipped through the door quietly, hanging her keys on the hook and stepping through to the living room.

“Hey! How was it?” Robin Buckley chirped softly from the recliner, setting down the remote as she stood. “It was.. needed!” She smiled. “How’d Danny boy do?” She asked, nodding towards the toddler’s room. “Great, as usual. You gotta stop worrying,we have a whole routine now! We watched the ninja turtles, played some pirates, skipped out on bath time, cause—you know,” she rolled her eyes and shrugged, referring to Danny’s problems with the water, “We ordered pizza for dinner; when I asked him what kind he looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I eat all the pizza.” She laughed, giving her best impression of Danny’s small voice.

Y/n grinned softly, “How was he with bedtime?” She scanned the living room and through the kitchen door, looking for any stray toys or food that needed to be picked up.

“We read Green Eggs and Ham-“

“Again?” Y/n asked exasperatedly, a smile of disbelief hung on her face. Robin chuckled as she moved to the door to grab her jacket. “Three times, actually, that boy needs all the proper voices, apparently.” Robin rolled her eyes and shrugged at the boy's antics.

“Ahh, of course the voices, how could I forget?” Y/n joked, recalling all the nights Danny insists on turning back to the pages that weren’t properly read. “Someday I’ll get them right, you watch!” Robin insisted as she quietly unhooked her keys from beside the door, opening the large black door slowly.

“Wait, Robin!” She called fumbling for her purse to hand the sitter a few bills.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Nice try though! I don’t want money to watch my nephew, I’m just glad you guys finally moved closer so I can spend more time with you guys!” She said, with a genuine smile. Y/n sighed and looked at her with her head cocked, knowing that Robin shared Adam’s stubbornness, always doing for others without wanting anything in return—both a best friend to everyone around them.

“You’re too much alike.” Y/n scoffed, shoving the bills in her purse, making a mental note to slip it in her backpack or jacket sometime when she wasn't looking. Robin smiled bitterly, thinking of her late cousin—who was more like a brother. Adam spent a lot of time growing up staying at his Aunt Ginger’s house, growing close with Robin as the years passed.

When Y/n and Adam hit high school and made their love official, Robin quickly became one of Y/n’s closest friends. From the moment Danny was placed in Robin’s arms, she made a promise to herself and to her cousin that she would help his little boy live the happiest life as much as she could contribute.

“I’m happy to help! Really, don’t ever hesitate to call. He’s my best friend! Except for maybe Steve, but Danny’s way better to talk to,” Robin jokes, stepping out onto the porch when an idea hits her, “Maybe next time you can drop Danny at mine and moms for a sleepover and you can bring someone home for once.” She nodded encouragingly, yet another person in Y/n’s life vying for her to give love another chance.

Y/n scoffed and went to close the door with an eye roll when Robin stuck her boot in the door. “Y/n, I’m serious. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked at the ground briefly. Y/n sighed, “Why would I wanna bring some rando home with me—Where my kid lives?”

Robin’s eyes grew heavy with good intentions, “I don’t mean a rando, Y/n! Would it be so bad to try? I know you said you will when you’re ready but—“

“And I will let you know when that day comes, Robs, I promise. And I’ll keep your offer in mind. I know Danny would love to see Gigi and eat monkey bread all evening.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance, sending Robin a smile.

Robin nodded, a content smile on her lips as she turned to leave but abruptly stopped and turned back,“I have to ask.. any luck tonight?” She asked mischievously. Y/n gaped and turned red, embarrassed at the amount of people involved in the details of her sex life.

“Wh-Robin! I-Why—how?”

“Oh my god, you so did. I thought you looked slightly disheveled when you walked in! Anyone I’d know?” She asked eagerly, as Y/n turned her by the shoulders out the door. “I hope not, see you later Robin, let me know when you get home, loveyoubyee!” She flipped on the porch light and shut and locked the door as Robin howled with laughter from the porch. “I’ll remember this, Y/n/n!”

Y/n kicked off her shoes, taking in the quietness of the house at night—her sanctuary. She walked to her bedroom, pausing to stick her head inside her son's room, his sleeping head just visible over the mound of blankets he insisted on having with him at night. She moved inside stealthily and moved the blankets further away from his face, her mom heart still cautious after two years of peaceful nights.

She continued to her room at the end of the hall, unbuttoning her pants and kicking them off by the door on her way to her bathroom at the other side of the closet. Carefully rubbing the ruined mascara around her eye, she turned on the water to shower.

As she sat down against the tub and stripped her shirt off, her time with Eddie flashed through her mind—remembering how his hands felt around her waist when she last took off her clothes; warm and rough.

The way his voice sounded when his breath panted against hers; warm and rough.

The way his kiss felt working against hers; warm and rough. She could almost feel their tongues in tandem; sometimes visible between them, others tucked away inside each other’s mouths like a home. She missed the way he tasted.

The way his eyes bore into hers like she was all he ever wished for, so intently. So warm and rough.

She shook the thoughts from her head, guilt shrouding her like the world's heaviest quilt. Crying often occurred after sex, though it was typically short lived because she was able to talk herself through it, assuring herself that she wasn’t betraying him, or trying to replace what they had. But this time felt different.

It started off as a sigh, though another deep breath was needed, which turned into quiet sobs. ‘Breathe deeply, don’t hyperventilate.’ She reminded herself, trying to switch off her brain for a minute and let herself cry.

‘He made me feel like he used to.’

‘He made me feel like I was doing everything right while I felt I was doing something so wrong.’

‘I am a single woman doing single woman things, it shouldn’t be this hard.’

‘Even if I gave him a chance he wouldn’t want someone else’s kid.’

‘No one gets serious with a single mom.’

‘He looked at me like I was everything to him.’

‘It all came so easily; the conversation, the sex, it was like magic.’

‘It’s too good to be true is what it is.’

As the thoughts rolled deeper and deeper, she wiped her face and picked herself up off the floor and into the shower. As soon as the steam cleared her senses, she could properly smell her hair; the smokey scent of the bar along with.. Eddie’s cologne.

Her tears halted, picking up a large chunk of her hair and bringing it to her nose to revel in him one more time before she had to wash him away. She tried to focus on the sounds around her and the feeling of the cold soap hitting her hands before working it in her palms and scrubbing her hair, but the safe warm feelings Eddie brought her lingered.

After accepting the calls from Stella and Robin, confirming their safety, Y/n peeled back the covers of her too big bed and slipped inside, positioning her pillows around herself to throw a leg and arm over.

She wondered what it would’ve been like for him to throw a blanket over the two of them, settle into his chest, plant kisses there and trace his beautiful face, holding him exactly like this, kissing him some more, asking him more questions about his life..

But of course, those weren’t possibilities because toddlers come before boys, always. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t think about it.

And think about it she did, until she couldn’t hold her eyes open anymore, drifting off to dream about his curly hair fanned out around him on her pillow, his hands intertwined with hers, and his smiling cheeks accepting her doting kisses.

Part 2?

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those

@samlealea

[yuri-is-online]

Missed Connection Section of the NRC Gazette (Floyd, Leona, and Ruggie)

While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Yuu is implied to be short, based off the personal items you can find in the guest room and a line from Floyd's dormwear card, title inspired by a country song that has nothing to do with the subject of the fic. I got a request for the 300 followers event, but since it's closed and I had this kicking around for Floyd anyway I added the other two requested characters. If you liked this you can read my other fics here.

Grey Scarf

"Floyd." Azul has a boring look on his face, all grimacy and angry and not worth Floyd's attention. Unfortunately he is very close to his face making it a tad impossible to ignore. "Where is your scarf?"  

"Dunno." He says. "I ain't wearing it." 

"I can see that." Snaps Azul. "You need it for your shift, you look sloppy enough as it is.  You scarf is a part of your uniform!  How can you be so careless with it?"

Because it's ugly.  Sure, it matches his dorm uniform kind of but his socks get to be a snazzy purple with a cute octopus pattern, why'd the scarf have to be such a boring grey?  Rules are rules though, and he does need it to work so he drags himself back over to his room and starts looking around. Normally, he would just steal Jade's and wait tables until he figured it out and forced Floyd to take the kitchen off his hands, but Floyd really didn't feel like cooking today. He didn't feel like waiting tables either, but money was money and Azul paid well. Only if he could find his stupid scarf apparently which was nowhere he could see, and he was far from happy about physically looking. Jade opens the door as he's halfway through emptying his bedside drawer on top of his bed, alongside all the laundry he'd had scattered across the floor.

"Looking for your scarf?" Floyd throws a pillow at him which is quickly returned with a pointed look that dares him to escalate things further just obviously enough Floyd doesn't want to do it. Instead he falls face first into the pile of laundry and nick nacks he'd been sorting through, making Jade sigh in disappointment.

"'s not here." Floyd grunts, muffled by an ok smelling t-shirt.

"Have you tried retracing your steps?" Jade is saying it just to be annoying but it is ok advice. Floyd tries, he doesn't usually wear his dorm uniform outside of school stuff, so it would have to be somewhere on campus. He hauls himself up from the pile and shuffles past his brother, the walk out of the mirror and towards the main campus passing by in a blur. There's a vague memory of club practice, but that could have been from any day this week, and it's not like he wears it to classes. Floyd chews on his lip in annoyance, he feels like he remembers where the last place the scarf was, but his bad mood is keeping him from sorting through his memories intellectually. It also keeps him from looking where he's going, smacking him directly into a very tiny, very familiar looking person who pointedly ignores his angry snarl to shove something in his face. Something very familiar, very boring, and very clearly the only reason either of them had left their dorms this evening.

"Seriously," the little shrimp has to stand up on their tip toes to throw the scarf around his shoulders "you have got to stop leaving your things at my dorm!" He thinks they're angry. That would explain the look on their face, but it's making his heart do weird flips between his chest and his stomach that keep him from thinking straight. A smile finds its way to his face, wide and unbidden coupled with outstretched arms that can't catch them fast enough, like he's reaching through honey even though he finds his mark and tugs them thrashing into his embrace.

"Awww," the words that come out of his mouth don't really feel like his "was little shrimpy wooooried about me?" He should say thank you. That's what Mamma Leech would say, and it's not that he doesn't want to, it's just there's a weird weight to the words he can't quite figure out. Something that wants to be said, but not just yet. They deserve a better tone, a better mood.

"No!" Yuu yells, muffled by his squeeze and unaware of how struggling is only going to make his hold tighter. "You just always burst in and whine about being bored-" Floyd nuzzles his cheek against theirs, trying to ignore the pushing against his chest as he sets them down.

"It's ok little shrimpy, you don't have to be so modest. Good shrimpies get rewards, I'll make sure to bring you something after I get off work, make sure to leave the door unlocked for me~" Or maybe don't, he could find his way in anyway he's sure of that but there's something about the fantasy of them wanting to see him (it's not a fantasy, they've invited him over before he knows that they don't fear him as much as they should) after work that's going to get him through the shift. Maybe he'll ditch the scarf again and make them come running after him on purpose this time, he thinks to himself with an uncharacteristically gentle smile.

Grand Wallet

Contrary to what he would say out-loud, Leona does think that the Ramshackle Prefect is quite smart. You do not survive as a magicless student from a different reality without some flexibility and raw intelligence. The consistency with which they could pick up on things and see through concealed intentions demands respect. But, he supposes as he idly thumbs through his bill fold disappointed to find it just as thick as when he left it, they are also... he decides to go with nice. The concerned way they stare at him is nice, Leona likes positive attention. He just wishes it wasn't from the nicest person he knows, is it so wrong to wish he had some reassurance that there was someone willing to be only nice to him? There's an ugly sort of suspicion they might have refused to steal from him out of fear, he's certainly more of a threat to them than he is to Ruggie.

"Well I guess I owe you a reward huh?" They jump, not helping the accusation (unvoiced) that they're only doing this out of fear.

"No?" Yuu says, looking around them probably to make sure that bratty cat monster isn't within earshot. Leona doesn't care about rewarding Grim, this is between him and the prefect, not some gluttonous bastard who is half the reason he was expecting to be stolen from in the first place. "You- Just stop forgetting things at my place!" He smiles slightly at that choice of phrasing just as they cringe at it. It almost makes him sound like a normal guy, if a Prince was leaving things around someone's place that would invite speculation; and Leona knows better than anyone that speculation invites scandal.

"Real shame no one ever does things out of the goodness of their hearts these days." His voice drawls as embarrassment settles over their face. They look almost mouse-like, if they try to speak Leona just knows they'll squeak and they clearly know it too. "You're really twisting my arm here, pretty shameless, prefect." That does it, the deep breath they take does nothing but really accentuate the harsh contrast of the squeaking to their normal voice.

"I did not," Yuu is so mortified they can barely get the words out, if he can't be the only recipient of their kindness he will satisfy himself with batting them around in his paws until they can pull together some nerves and force him to stop "return your wallet just for a reward. It's yours it belongs to you and now it is back where it belongs. Which isn't my guest room on top of a fucking couch seriously Leona-" Mice still have claws, even if the dent they leave is just a little scratch to such a big cat, he finds himself pleased with the annoyance of Yuu finding their voice. "It was like you were practically begging to be robbed. What if one of the Leech twins found that huh? Would you be getting it back?"

"Only after I paid the finders fee." He can ignore the tickle caused by the unsavory image of an eel inviting itself into your personal space. "Which is what I am doin' now, you're demanding it remember?" He tunes his ears to their footsteps as he walks towards the cafeteria, content with how quickly they jump to follow. The typically steady beat of their heart is skipping in tune with the directions of their thoughts. Good, the mouse is smart contrary to what the trapped lion thinks, so let them; they'll realize the hold they have over him soon enough.

Empty Lunch Box

This was really starting to annoy you, but no matter how much you turned the whole thing over in your mind you couldn't figure out why. You had been tempted to try and ask someone about it, but you could already tell what the general reaction to the situation would be.

The "situation" being that simply put, Ruggie liked to hang out in your guest room. That wasn't the issue. You liked having Ruggie over, it's actually really nice. Sometimes he brings small projects from some odd job or another and you'll work on them together while having a chat. He likes to ask you things about your world, it started as just small talk about the sort of jobs you'd had in your world but evolved into much more meaningful talks about your hobbies and the family you missed. You had even had a lengthy conversation about death and the difference between cultural beliefs about where you go after you die. Yes it was very nice and domestic even but then you made the mistake of trying to be nice.

Ruggie liked to bring a lunchbox with him when he visited. Sometimes it had food in it, and while he hadn't shared it with you at first, but then you started talking about your families and he had slightly warmed up to the idea of sharing snacks. You hadn't taken anything from him until he explicitly offered, and when he forgot the now empty lunch box you had pulled some of your personal savings to get him something from the Mystery Shop. It was supposed to be a cute surprise for him to find when you returned the lunch box, and it worked. Granted you had intended for him to find it after he got back to his dorm, but he had sniffed it out as soon as you handed it over. His reaction was cute, he was cute, it was almost like he thought he was dreaming with just how excited he had been to receive some packaged pastries. When he came over later in the week and left the lunchbox again you had done the same thing. Fair is fair, he gets you jobs and shares his food and you give a little food back in return. Lately though something has been different. Ruggie has still been coming to hang out, he still brings work, you still talk, and he still leaves that damn lunch box. But he hasn't been sharing anything, meaningful; personal information or foodwise.

Maybe it was the death conversation. If you had revealed you were an orphan and that you never knew your mom to someone you had a crush on (not that Ruggie like likes you no matter how much you might might want that) you would be pumping the breaks too. But it still kind of hurt, it felt like a rejection of something that you knew hadn't existed in the first place.

"Y'know you don't have to give me stuff." Ruggie had come over today too, with shitty plastic garbage that needed packed into boxes. He's either read your mind or noticed you brought the remainder of the packaged goods out to snack on while you work. You try to asses him from behind your pile of card stock, he's overly focused on his task. Reflective maybe? He is almost pouting.

"I wanted to." You decide to stick with honesty, sure Ruggie might be sneaky but he deserves that much, doesn't he? "You share with me, I share with you. Fair's fair, right?"

"Right." Ruggie says, audibly disappointed to your confusion. You have never seen him so... gloomy over the concept of someone owing him a favor. Especially one paid back in food. "You do that for everybody, yeah?"

"Yeah?" You say, pausing in your work for just a second to try and collect yourself. Up until a few seconds ago you had been under the impression that had been one of your better qualities.

"So like," he isn't looking at you and his ears are saggy, tugging at your heartstrings painfully though just a tiny part of you is starting to hope- "if Leona left no that doesn't make sense. If Jack left his lunch box here and it was empty would you buy him a snack?" You think for a second.

"Did he share his lunch with me?"

"Yes." Ruggie's looking at you again, like he has a bone to pick.

"Maybe." You don't really have to think about the answer, as much as you like returning the favor Jack would probably just be happy to find his lost item and leave it at that. "If we were hanging out and he wanted something from a vending machine I'd spot him."

"But you wouldn't go out of your way to get him something?" Ruggie's stopped working now, he's really staring at you almost like he is trying to sus you out as if he hasn't been friends with you for a while now. As if he doesn't know more of your secrets than anyone else.

"I-" for some reason what you want to say gets stuck on your throat, maybe it's because Ruggie leans across the couch to get a bit closer to your face. Maybe it's because you are suddenly a lot more aware of what your little actions might have meant to him as your previous conversations play over in your mind "no. You're the only person I've really gone out of my way to get food for. Well except for maybe Grim but he doesn't really count..." You both let out sharp breaths, your eyes fall down to your work, hands going back to the task out of habit and desire to distract yourself.

shishishishi

Ruggie is silent and back in his perch across from you once your head snaps up to look at him. His small grin is intoxicating, his tail is swishing in pride like he's just won a great victory in some war you had no idea he was fighting. It is a smug look, too smug for someone who just put you through a few days of mental torture.

Maybe you'll make him some food next time, you'll see who is smug after that.

[forest-hashira]

Surprise, Baby

ok i've decided to stop being so In My Head bout this and just post it. it was entirely self indulgent so it's just fluff, & i apologize if anyone seems ooc but i really like this one ok?

pairing: gojo/reader, geto/reader, also technically satosugu

word count: 3.3k

read it on ao3

warnings: pregnancy, gn pronouns used for reader but implied afab reader (it is a pregnancy fic after all), reader is referred to as "mom", other than that it's pure fluff

It wasn’t like you’d planned for this to happen. 

Raising four children when you were still practically kids yourself had been rewarding, but it had also been difficult. Even with three of you to juggle everything – getting the kids to school, running errands, keeping up with appointments and practices and rehearsals – it still got overwhelming sometimes. 

Despite all that, though, all three of you were incredibly proud of the people the kids had grown into. They were all strong, kind, and considerate, even as they became moody teenagers; yours and Suguru’s endless patience over the years had ensured that, as had Satoru’s eager and constant encouragement in everything they did. Raising those kids was one of the most rewarding things you’d ever done in your life. 

So why were you so terrified of the thought of doing it again with a baby of your own flesh and blood?

“Are you feeling alright, love?” Suguru asked, his brows furrowed with concern as he took you in. “You look a bit pale.”

You offered him a weak smile from your spot in bed, propped up by a few pillows, trying to stave off the waves of nausea as subtly as you could. “‘M fine,” you assured him quietly. “Just not feeling very good right now.” 

Your words only seemed to worry him more, and he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out and resting the back of his hand against your forehead, checking to see if you had a fever. “You’re a little clammy,” he said quietly, “but you don’t feel warm. Can I get you anything?”

You hesitated for a moment at his words, not wanting to inconvenience him at all when you knew he needed to head off with Satoru to start their students’ lessons, but before you could brush off his offer, your stomach decided to make an ungodly noise. “…some toast would be nice,” you admitted, unable to do anything but blush as he smiled at you.

“Whatever you want, love,” your dark haired partner agreed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before he stood and left the room. 

Satoru was already in the kitchen when he stepped into the room, pouring a truly obscene amount of flavored creamer into his coffee. The sight caused Suguru to wrinkle his nose slightly, but he said nothing, too focused on making the toast you'd asked for to tease his lover for his sugar addiction. 

“Everything alright?” the white haired man asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched the other move through the kitchen; his shoulders were tense, a clear sign that something was bothering him. 

“They’re not feeling well,” Suguru answered simply, still focused on his task. 

“Again?” Satoru asked, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s what, four days in a row now?”

“Five days total this week,” Suguru confirmed with a sigh, dropping two slices of bread into the toaster and pressing down the lever, after making sure the settings were to your preference. 

The blue eyed man said nothing in response, a concerned hum escaping him as he set his coffee aside. Drink now abandoned, he turned and made his way back to the bedroom, his only thought being checking on you. 

“Sweetheart?” he called softly, stepping into the room. “Sugu said you’re feeling sick again.”

You smiled apologetically at him. “Nothing to worry about,” you promised, but he was clearly unconvinced. In just a few steps, he crossed the room, easily crawling up the bed to snuggle up beside you. 

“D’y’want us to stay with you today?” he asked, shuffling as close as he could get as he rested his cheek against your chest near your shoulder. 

You shook your head slightly at his question, one hand coming up to play with his snowy locks. “The students need you.”

“They’d understand,” Satoru insisted. “Megs and Yuji asked about you yesterday. Nobara won’t admit it but I think she’s worried, too. They miss you.” 

“The twins haven’t said anything?” you asked, fake pouting, hoping to lighten his mood a bit. 

“Sugu spent over half his time yesterday keeping them from sneaking off to check on you.” 

Not having expected such a heartfelt answer, you suddenly felt as if you were going to cry. You blinked quickly, biting your lip as you fought away the tears; the last thing you wanted was to worry your partners even more. 

No such luck. Satoru immediately noticed the shift in your mood, and he felt his heart stop for a moment. “Oh, honey, don’t cry, please? I’m sorry, I didn’t think that would upset you.” His words held an edge of panic as he lifted his head, brows pinched harshly in worry. 

“‘M not upset,” you promised, shaking your head and reaching out for him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.”

He easily took your hand in his own as you reached out for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Don’t apologize, sweetie,” he soothed. “Just don’t like it when you don’t feel good.”

“Neither of us do,” Suguru chimed in, stepping into the room with the toast you’d requested from him. “Love, what’s wrong?” His voice was impossibly gentle as he approached, and for some reason, that was the last straw for your fragile emotional state. 

Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you burst into sobs. You covered your face with your hands, apologizing over and over again on hiccuping breaths between your sobs. 

This alarmed your partners a great deal, and Suguru raced forward, hurriedly closing the remaining distance between the two of you. He set the plate on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed, taking one of your hands and carefully pulling it away from your face; Satoru did the same on your other side, with your other hand. “What are you sorry for, love?” he asked softly.

“For everything!” you burst out, then seemed to get embarrassed by your own outburst. “For crying,” you continued, voice lowering as you sniffled. “For worrying you, and the kids. Didn’t mean to, I just…just didn’t wanna make a fuss for no reason.”

“Let us fuss over you,” Suguru murmured, offering you a gentle smile.

“We worry when you don’t let us fuss over you,” Satoru added, a hint of teasing in his gentle words. When it succeeded in drawing a hint of a smile from you, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. “Now, can you please tell us what you didn’t want to cause a fuss over?”

You hesitated again, looking between the two men beside you, the love and tenderness practically beaming off of them making you feel foolish for keeping this to yourself for so long, worried about what they might say. Before you spoke, you carefully guided their hands to your stomach, releasing them and allowing their long fingers to splay over the area, the warmth of their hands still easy to feel even through the fabric of your shirt. 

Two sets of brows furrowed in slight confusion at the gesture, but they waited patiently for you to elaborate. No matter how curious they were, they would never push you to speak before you were ready. 

You wracked your brain for a clever way to break the news, but eventually you gave up, not wanting to keep them waiting any longer. “I’m pregnant,” you said, and for some reason you found yourself blushing.

Two sets of eyes widened in shock. The men sat in silence for a moment, before Suguru’s soft voice broke it. “You’re having a baby?” he asked, wonder all over his face. 

“We’re having a baby,” you corrected softly, heart swelling with love as you took in his lovestruck expression. “All three of us.”

“We’re having a baby!” Satoru exclaimed from your other side, hauling you into his lap and burying his face in your neck. 

The movement knocked the air from your lungs for a second, but his excitement was so palpable you couldn’t even be upset with him. A small laugh bubbled out of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair for a moment. 

“Careful, Toru,” Suguru scolded his partner, though there was no heat behind his words. “Don’t break them.”

Satoru’s half-hearted “sorry” was muffled against your skin, the tickling sensation of his lips causing you to giggle softly. 

Another thought occurred to you after a moment, and you deflated a bit. This did not go unnoticed by either of your partners. 

“Nooo, no sad thoughts!” Satoru pouted, lifting his head from your neck as he spoke. “This is good news!”

“Toru’s right, love,” Suguru agreed, tilting his head slightly; you couldn’t help but admire the way his bangs drifted across his face at the movement. “What’s got you down?”

“Do you think the kids will be upset?” Your voice was small as you asked the question, and you bit your lip immediately afterwards. 

“Why would they be upset?” The question was gentle, holding no judgment whatsoever, just like your partner’s brown eyes. 

“I dunno, I just…don’t want them to feel like they’re being replaced, or something.” You shrugged slightly, avoiding his gaze as you spoke; you realized how foolish it sounded, but you still couldn’t help but worry. 

“You’re their mom,” Satoru said, as if that answered the question, as if it was the obvious cure to your worries. “They would never think you were replacing them.”

His words made you burst into tears again, which earned him a harsh pinch on his thigh from your other partner. 

“Stop making them cry, babe. It’s rude.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!”

“S’okay,” you cut in, not wanting them to bicker, even if it was lighthearted. “Happy tears. Just love you both so much.” You sniffled softly, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and reaching for your dark haired partner with the other. “Too far away, Sugu,” you pouted. 

“They’re right, sugar,” Satoru agreed, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Cuddles aren’t as effective or as satisfying without you.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at his lover’s words, but he couldn’t help but grin back at him. He didn’t waste another moment before climbing up the bed to properly join the two of you, settling comfortably against Satoru’s side and your back, one hand wrapping around your front and resting lightly on your stomach again. “Better?” he asked, the word murmured sweetly into the back of your shoulder. 

“Much,” you agreed, turning your head to press a kiss to his temple. 

As the two of you got comfortable together, the white haired sorcerer adjusted slightly, shifting just enough to pull his phone from his pocket. He kept one arm wrapped around you, his free hand pulling up his messaging app. 

“Whatcha doin’?” you asked, face still toward Suguru’s, so you could only sort of make out what he was doing on his phone. 

“Texting the kids,” he said. The text he sent to the four of them was short, to the point: class canceled. family meeting. He tucked his phone away again after that, unable to resist the urge to bury his face in your neck again. 

All you did was hum in response to his words, too wrapped up in the warmth and adoration from your boyfriends to worry too much about what he might have told them. 

The three of you spent the next few minutes snuggled up together, exchanging little kisses and soft touches, just happy to be with each other and revel in the warmth of your good news. 

The moment was cut short by a knock at the door, though, and your nose scrunched in confusion. 

“I’ll get it,” Satoru said right away, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before transferring you into Suguru’s lap. Once you were settled, he hopped up from the bed and left the room. 

You pouted as he left, but allowed yourself to be appeased as your other partner held you close, pressing kisses along your hairline. 

Just a few seconds later, you heard several sets of footsteps enter the apartment, accompanied by a familiar voice. 

“Where’s mom?” Megumi asked, hurrying past his sisters and his father figure, his eyes scanning the main room of the apartment. 

“In here, Gumi!” you called out to your son, frowning when he hurried into the room, worry etched into his features. “What’s wrong?”

Megumi returned your frown as he looked you over, not able to see anything noticeably wrong. “Gojo canceled classes and called a family meeting, and you’ve been out most of the week. I thought there was bad news.”

The girls filed into the room after their brother, peering at you with worried expressions of their own, though Megumi seemed to be the most frantic of the group. Satoru followed the girls into the room, and you scowled at him. “You called a family meeting?” you asked, crossing your arms as you turned to face him a bit more. Suguru easily accommodated you as you shifted, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

“What? It was the quickest way to get them all here,” Satoru said, somewhat defensively, crossing his own arms in a mirror of your stance. 

“You should have asked us first.”

“Or at least told them there was nothing to worry about,” Suguru added, hooking his chin gently over your shoulder after he spoke. Satoru said nothing, just let out a huff, though he did have the decency to look a little sheepish. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you assured the kids, offering them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry Toru worried you. I promise I’m fine. C’mere.” You extended a hand towards the kids, beckoning them closer, encouraging them to join you and Suguru on the bed. 

As stoic as he usually was, Megumi was the first to join you, settling on the edge of the bed, as close to your side as he could get. The girls followed soon after, all of them perching on the mattress and looking between you, Satoru, and Suguru expectantly. “So…what’s the reason for the family meeting?” Tsumiki asked after a moment, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at Satoru. 

The white haired sorcerer’s eyes flashed at the question, and he smiled, tilting his head in your direction. “Ask your mom.”

Four sets of eyes turned to you, all varying levels of confused and curious, and you felt yourself grow a bit flustered at the attention. 

“I can tell them, if you’d prefer,” Suguru offered quietly, immediately picking up on the shift in your mood. 

“No, Sugu, it’s okay,” you answered, though you did lean your cheek slightly against his before you spoke again. “Your dads and I are having a baby,” you told the kids. As all four sets of eyes widened at your words, you felt the heat return to your cheeks, but you smiled brightly at the excitement that was so obvious in their expressions; even Megumi was smiling. 

“A baby?!” the twins chorused, followed by a cheer when you felt Suguru nod against your shoulder. The sound drew a giggle from you, and you settled further back into your dark haired partner’s chest. 

“That’s really great to hear,” Tsumiki agreed, her eyes sparkling as brightly as her smile, and you smiled right back at her. “We’re happy for you guys.” 

You nodded in response, then turned your attention to your son, who had yet to say anything about the news. “Whaddya say, Gumi? Would you rather have a brother, or another sister?” You nudged his ribs lightly with your elbow as you teased him, and your expression softened slightly as a chuckle escaped the boy. 

“I just hope it doesn’t look like Gojo,” he replied, a playful twinkle in his eye as he spoke. You could feel Suguru’s chuckle rumble through his chest and into your back, and your own giggle turned into a full-out belly laugh as Satoru let out a cry of indignation. 

“Megs, you wound me! I happen to be very good looking, and I have two romantic partners that would wholeheartedly agree,” Satoru insisted, flopping dramatically down on the bed beside you. 

“Subjecting a kid to those genes seems a little unfair, that’s all I’m saying.” 

You did your best to stifle your laughter at your son’s response, but given that all of your daughters and your other partner were all laughing, too, it was difficult not to join them. 

“You’re a traitor,” Satoru pouted, looking up at you and Suguru from where his head rested on your thighs. “Both of you are, siding with the kid over me like that.”

“You’re just whiny because he’s right,” Suguru replied, smirking down at his partner. 

“Sorry, Toru,” you soothed, reaching down with one hand to run your fingers through his hair. “I think you’re very pretty with your white hair and blue eyes.”

He seemed to brighten a bit at that. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty like a cat.”

Satoru’s brows furrowed at the words. “…I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” he said after a beat. “But I’m going to take it as one.”

The exchange drew a fresh wave of giggles from the twins, which in turn made you, Tsumiki, and Suguru laugh; Satoru and Megumi watched with silent smiles. The moment was warm, and happy, and lovely. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

“Good morning Sensei!” Yuji greeted enthusiastically, a bright grin on his face as he waved. “Fushiguro says you’re feeling better?”

“Yes, Yuji, I’m feeling much better.” You smiled at the boy as you answered him. “I’m sorry if I worried you at all.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” the pink haired boy said easily. “You’re not sick very often, we weren’t sure what was going on. Even Kugisaki was worried.”

Your eyes darted over to the girl as Yuji said her name, and you couldn’t help but smile as she turned away, saying nothing but letting out a soft grunt; not agreeing with her classmate’s words, but also not denying them. 

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about,” you promised. “And I wasn’t sick. Not really.”

Yuji’s face scrunched together in confusion. “But Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei both said you weren’t feeling well?”

“Because I wasn’t.”

The boy’s expression grew impossibly more confused at your words, drawing a soft chuckle from your partners. 

“Just tell him, love,” Suguru said, fingers trailing lightly down your back as he spoke.

“Please do,” Nobara agreed. “Itadori’s brain isn’t built to think this hard.”

“His head’ll probably explode if he tries to figure it out on his own,” Megumi agreed, the twitch in the corner of his lips only noticeable to you and your partners. 

“Hey!” Yuji said indignantly, though he gave no specific arguments; he had no clue what could’ve kept you feeling unwell but not actually sick for so long, and he really wanted to know. 

“Fine,” you said, sighing melodramatically and suppressing your own smile. “It was morning sickness, Yuji.”

“Morning sickness?”

“Itadori you, dumbass!” Nobara exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked at you. “They’re having a baby!”

“A baby?” Yuji asked, tilting his head slightly, before the words seemed to fully click in his mind. “Oh! A baby! That’s amazing!” He turned his beaming smile back on you full force for a moment, then glanced over at Megumi. “Aren’t you excited, Fushiguro?”

“Nope!” Satoru cut in, trying – and failing miserably – to hide his playful grin. “Megs is a party pooper who never gets excited about anything.”

“Satoru,” you and Suguru scolded in unison, causing the white haired sorcerer to hold up his hands in surrender. Even with his blindfold on, you knew his eyes were flashing with love and mischief. 

“We told Gumi and the girls yesterday,” you explained. “No surprises for him today.”

“…is that why Gojo-sensei canceled classes yesterday?!”

i hope you guys enjoyed! like i said this is purely self indulgent fluff lol. i have a couple other lil ideas for things floating around in my brain/that i've started working on but idk if/when any of them will be finished 🙈

dividers by @/benkeibear