#so instead of like half ass it last night i wanted to wait to answer it today so i could give a proper responce

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where Jake is flirting with a plus size girl who doesn’t think he’s really attracted to her but still goes home with him (a bit self destructive she knows) but when she has to physically pull him from between her thighs because he’s about to pass out from the lack of breathing/cumming in his pants she realizes that “oh shit he does like me”

Oh I feel this so hard and this got away from me enjoy!

She thinks when Jake comes up to her that he wants to know about her friends, because why else would he come up and talk to her?

And when Jake asks her about herself, she still thinks that's his goal. So she's guarded, her answers are short and to the point. Just waiting for him to bring up one of the girls she came with, waiting for those four words that always come when someone like him talks to someone like her.

"Is your friend single?"

But strangely, those words never come. Because Jake (God bless him) just thinks the bar is too noisy and that's why you're being quiet.

"Do you want to go outside? Where it's not as loud?"

"Why?" It's an automatic response due to years of being ignored, rejected, passed over. It's genuine confusion because he could be talking to anyone here, so why would he want to talk to you?

Jake's brows knit together in confusion. He thought he was being very obvious in his flirting.

"So I can hear you better?" He says it like a question because he's confused too, just for a different reason. He had pulled out all the stops; buying you a drink, complimenting your smile, leaning in to close the distance between his body and her's.

But that hasn't stopped her from looking around the bar, keeping an eye out for snickering friends who are filming the interaction with their phones or passing a wad of cash to each other for winning a bet this Adonis was acting out.

Long fingers hooked themselves around her chin, gently tilting her head back to Jake's.

His smile is now soft, hesitant almost. Nothing like the eye-crinkling grin he had early when he found something she said hilarious.

"If you don't want to, it's fine. You can tell me."

A way out. A way to avoid rejection. A way to avoid being let down, avoid feeling unwanted.

Saying no is the sensible thing to do.

And yet, she finds herself out on the beach with Jake Seresin, who's looking at her as if she put the stars in the night sky.

She knows she can leave anytime, and so could he. She expects it, waits for a half assed excuse, an 'emergency' phone call to occur, an early meeting tomorrow morning. Anything for him to leave.

But Jake doesn't leave. In fact, he does the unthinkable and asks if she wants to come back to his place.

Another chance to leave that she didn't take. She knows whatever this is, it won't last longer than tonight. It's going to hurt like hell tomorrow morning, but it's fun to pretend that a guy actually wants to be with you, right?

But Jake keeps surprising her. First when he kisses her.

Second when he asks if she wants to go upstairs.

He hasn't had a drink since they left the bar, so alcohol isn't clouding his vision and the whole being in the Navy thing rules out drugs.

Maybe it's been a while since he's gotten laid and he's desperate. But even she knows that one is impossible given his looks and charms.

The biggest surprise is when he doesn't reach for the lamp after she lies down on his bed.

"Aren't you...going to turn it off?" She motions to the lamp, a rather incredulous look taking over her face.

Jake tilts his head to the side, resembling a confused puppy more than a Greek God.

"Why would I do that? Then I can't see you."

He wants to see me.

The words repeat over and over in her head. When he pulls off her shirt, she fights the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach, instead pulling him into a bruising kiss.

"You're so soft," his hands are traveling everywhere along her body, as if he's trying to commit the feeling to memory, "Fucking love it."

The seed of doubt becomes smaller and smaller as the night goes on, though it still looms in the back of her head. This is just for a night, it'll only last a night, but what's wrong with that?

There's a lot wrong with that, but that's something to talk in therapy. She tries to push it to the back of her mind, focusing on how good his tongue feels on her clit, how his fingers are able to find the spot that makes her whole body shake in pleasure.

Wait, how long has he been down there?

She was expecting him to come up when she first came but then he kept going.

The noises Jake was making kept getting louder too. Moans vibrating against her wet cunt. Then the bed began to squeak.

That was what caused her to lift her head up and look at the sight between her legs.

His eyes were completely closed as his mouth moved against her. What took the breath out of her lungs was the way his hips were moving frantically against the mattress, becoming more erratic as his moans increased.

Fuck, he was enjoying this.

He was enjoying her.

This was....new.

[mitsuyeaah]

misdemeanour.

— ran haitani x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), thigh riding, light bdsm (handcuffs), roleplaying (police officer!ran), mentions of alcohol use, pet names (princess)

a/n: inspired by that one ran photo that’s circulating right now. he’s so hot istg (*´꒳`*)

the loud bass of the music reverberated throughout the entire house, feeling every beat of it thumping inside your chest. you navigated through the dimly lit living room packed with sweaty intoxicated bodies, some of them moving against the music dressed in varieties of different costumes.

your friend, rindou, had hosted a costume party for his birthday. of course, as innocent as it sounded, the activities within the walls of his house were a complete contrast. It was wild to say the least. beer pong outside their lawn next to a keg stand, people doing shots at the kitchen island, couples making out somewhere private, people dancing in the living room, and more.

you were amongst the people doing some shots in the kitchen. your throat burned at the sensation of the hot liquid going down—tequila—, face scrunching at the bitter taste of the liquid poison. a round the kitchen island, there stood some of your close friends, rindou included.

there was one particular man that caught your eyes. The one standing right across you, dressed in a navy blue police officer uniform, topped with a police hat. his long two-toned hair were secured in two braids that cascaded down his chest. you noticed how the two of you seemed to always accidentally make eye contact amidst the chaos inside the kitchen. hisamethyst eyes lingering on yours a little too long before he looked elsewhere—you swore you could see a slight desperation in them. like he wanted something.

rindou had introduced the man earlier as his older brother, ran. he was indeed a gentleman, going even as far as extending his hand to shake your own.

throughout the entire time you were doing shots in the kitchen, you and ran had about more than 5 wordless exchanges through eye contact. you weren’t complaining though, he was very easy on the eyes but you just wished he approached you. “i’ll be right back! i need to go to the bathroom!” you yelled over the music, leaning over the table to let everyone know. “okay, you better hurry! we’re starting another round soon.” rindou yelled back.

you exchanged one last eye contact with ran, this time mustering up a small smile before leaving for the bathroom. you messily made your way to the bathroom, your head slightly spinning from the tequila shots. you managed to make it safely to the bathroom without tripping over anything or anyone by grabbing the walls for support.

after doing your business and washing your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your appearance—noticing how the strap of your costume had slipped off your shoulder. if you were being honest, this devil costume you had on was half-assed. only because you didn’t bother buying a new one and instead wore the only costume you already had.

you cupped your cheeks and let out a sharp exhale, feeling the burning temperature of your skin due to the amount of alcohol in your system.

you closed the bathroom door behind you but before you could even take a step, you found yourself trapped between the door and the man you’ve been eyeing all night, ran. the back of your head rubbed against the cool surface of the door as you craned your neck to look up at the tall man.

he was indeed more beautiful up close. little specks of dark purple scattered around his lavender irises. his soft pink lips looking a little too tempting. “o-oh! sorry! did you need to use the bathroom?” your breathing became uneven as you held his gaze, waiting for his answer.

he gave you a saccharine smile as he let out a soft hum that only you could hear. ran shook his head ‘no’ and leaned in closer to your ear. his scent engulfed your nose, it was sweet yet musky, just how you liked it. “you’re under arrest for a misdemeanour for being too fucking hot..”

your breath hitched. you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks as his hot breath ghosted over the side of your neck, causing goosebumps. “wha—” “nuh uh.. place your hands in front of you like this.” ran jutted his hands out between you two, both his hands securely intertwined with one another.

doing so, ran skilfully secured your wrists together using the metal cuffs that hung from his belt loop. you slightly shivered at the cool sensation of it against your burning skin. before you could do anything, ran hooked a thumb on the chain that connected the cuffs and tugged your wrists above your head.

your hands were now bound over your head, resting against the door behind you. with one hand securely locking your hands above you, his free hand grabbed the baton, the tip of it resting below your chin to jut your face upwards.

“you think you can just walk around my house looking this delicious?”

you rubbed your thighs against one another, yearning for some kind of friction as you looked into his eyes. the desperation in his amethyst eyes mirrored your own.

ran noticed this and clicked his tongue. he swiftly pushed your feet apart to spread your legs and tucked his knee right at the apex of it, just where you wanted him. your breathing became erratic, your head spun at his strong scent, and you were wet.

how embarrassing, he hasn’t even done anything to you yet.

“sorry..” that was all you could mutter. at this point, your mind was going absolutely crazy, you partially blamed the alcohol for it. ran clicked his tongue once again, “you’re going to have to do better than that.. princess.” his lips ghosted over the side of your neck, tongue casually darting out to give a few kitten licks here and there.

you let out a shaky moan, not caring if the two of you got caught. no one probably even cared, they were all too wasted to do so.

ran chuckled against your soft skin, this time his lips fully making contact with it—brazenly sucking and licking at it, pulling more sounds from you. he absolutely loved how you responded to his mouth. a loud whine escaped your lips as he started grinding his knee against your clothed clit, skilfully moving it to increase your pleasure.

“oh fuck! aah—ran!”

you couldn’t help but move your hips against his leg. you wanted more. ran chucked his baton away and opted for using his hand to hold your chin up—his lips trailing wet, hot kisses toward your own. you almost melted right then and there at the sensation of his soft lips against yours, moaning at how desperately it moved.

ran didn’t shy from shoving his tongue in your mouth and moaning against it. fuck, it was filthy but it was so hot.

your knees buckled at this, a funny feeling running up your legs as ran keenly explored your mouth. good thing his leg was somewhat supporting you, if not, you were sure you would’ve fell to the floor.

everything was a haze. your mind spun, heart racing, ears muffling out the loud music, you were only focused on one person. ran haitani. as if reading your mind, ran finally let go of your wrists, the burning sensation in your arms dissipating as you dropped them back down. although, they were still bound together due to the handcuffs.

you grabbed onto the collar of his costume to keep yourself grounded, gripping the fabric in your hands until your knuckles turned white. ran pulled away to catch his breath, chuckling breathlessly at the way you craned your neck forward, chasing the presence of his lips.

“mmm, be a good girl and keep fucking yourself on my leg, princess.” ran groaned, cupping your warm cheeks to meet your gaze. you looked up at him as your eyes brimmed with tears, brows furrowed in pleasure as your clit rubbed against the fabric of your panties.

you desperately rut your hips, chasing the high that seemed impossible to obtain. “ngh! ran please..” you buried your face on his chest, whining. it was unsatisfying. every time you thought you were close, the pleasure suddenly disappeared and you had to start from the bottom again. it was your first time riding someone’s thigh and it frustrated you that you couldn’t reach your high.

“should i help my princess out?” he raised a brow, placing both his hands on your hips. ran bounced his leg and grounded your hips on his thigh, guiding it back and forth. you moaned against his chest at the sensation. the pleasure you felt from this was much greater, your clothed clit deliciously rubbing against his leg.

your whole body was slumped against ran. limp, helpless and at his very mercy. you weren’t even moving your hips anymore, ran took full control of it’s movement. he rested his chin at the top of your head, hands still carefully guiding your hips against his bouncing leg. “ngh—ah! shit..” tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks as you shut your eyes closed.

you were so fucking close.

“that’s it, princess. you can do it..” you panted heavily as your sweaty forehead rested on his collarbone. you could feel the familiar bubbling at the pit of your stomach and the way ever single muscle in your body tightened.

ran noticed the change in your breathing, frequent short whines that ended in a small moan escaped your lips. “fuck, look at me when you cum.” with the energy left in your body, you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him through your lashes—tears obstructing your view.

he cursed under his breath and brought a hand up, cupping your cheek and shoving his thumb in your mouth. you didn’t need to be instructed what to do, you swirled your tongue around his slender digit. moaning against the finger and you desperately sucked on it.

“such a naughty girl.. why don’t you cum for me? hm?”

you absentmindedly nodded at his command, your face contorting in pleasure as the knot inside your stomach finally snapped. ran removed his finger from your mouth and sealed the distance between the two of you, swallowing your moans.

your muscles stiffened and your eyes rolled back as you came, your fingers becoming sore form gripping at ran’s collar. ran didn’t stop moving your hips against his bouncing leg to ride out your orgasm.

fuck, you melted like wax against him. it was too good. ran shamelessly moaned into your mouth, mirroring the way you did to his own. several tears rolled down your cheeks as your cunt quivered in pleasure. you pulled away from the kiss, catching your breath, your panties soaked and uncomfortably stuck to you.

“fuck..” you panted

“mhm, don’t think i’m done with you yet, princess. let’s go take some shots for now.” he kissed your forehead and untucked his leg from underneath you, earning a slight whine from you.

“careful, princess, you might get charged more than a misdemeanour. the punishment is much more severe.” he leaned into your ear and kissed at the sensitive spot just below it before heading over to the kitchen.

© mitsuyeaah

[littlemissfiore]

Plan Failed!

prompt: your crush starts dating someone else. in a vain attempt to catch their attention, you device a plan with your friend to make them jealous. although, it seems your plan has failed, now it's up to your friends to pick up the pieces.

pairing: monster trio + usopp x gn!reader [modern au] [college au]

note: i was bored lmao (this is unedited)

Monkey D. Luffy:

"Let's just get something to eat! I'm getting hungry!" whined Luffy. You sent a glare his way, hoping he wasn't blowing your cover.

Luffy stared at you unamused, watching you look over at your crush flirt with someone else. He was getting tired of your antics, you were letting him starve just so you can ogle at your crush.

Luffy knew about your plan and was more than willing to help. The plan was simple, right? Make your crush jealous by having them think you're making moves on Luffy. Then, once they realize what they are missing out on, you and your crush date and Luffy gets to go his own way.

If only it was as simple as Luffy made it out to be. This little scheme of yours was lasting a little too long. Your crush never paid attention to you, and when he did, it was half-assed. Only asking for the answers to the homework or if you could help them work out a question on an assignment in class.

You always seemed to take these interactions as a victory, but not even Luffy is this dense. He was well aware your crush did not reciprocate your feelings but you would refuse to listen to him.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about romance!" you yelled at him, your face growing hot with embarrassment.

Luffy? Not knowing about romance? Of course he knew what it was. Two people like each other, go on dates and kiss, it was simple, right?

Luffy sometimes wanted to kiss you, was that romance? You two were already going on-unofficial-dates and hanging around each other more than usual.

The both of you were always together one way or another. You would invite Luffy out for lunch after class. He would stay in campus at night, waiting for you to finish your night classes. You were both in the same friend group. Luffy already knew what you liked and disliked; hell, he's met your family before that bonehead had the chance to.

What did that meathead have that was so special about them? Unlike them, Luffy would do his homework, even if the answers were wrong. He would never ask you for the answers, instead choosing to spend quality time with you teaching him the material outside of class.

Plus, Luffy liked you. You didn't need a convoluted plan to catch his attention, you already had it.

You let out a defeated sigh, "This plan isn't gonna work is it?" you asked, looking for confirmation.

"Nope!" Luffy said bluntly.

Even though his response hurt you, you knew Luffy was just being honest with you. It was a trait you admired in him, it was much better than having him feed into your delusions.

Luffy noticed a shift in your behavior now becoming a sad one. Coming to the realization that your crush did not reciprocate the same feelings you had. You were planning on going home and crying your heart out, it felt like the only thing to do. Although, Luffy had other plans. He grabbed you by the hand, leading you away from campus.

"W-where are you taking me?" you stuttered, tryin to keep up with Luffy's pace.

He only turn to look at you, giving you that wide grin you absolutely adored. "I'm taking you out to eat, my treat!" was the only thing Luffy responded with.

You felt warm inside knowing that Luffy was doing his best to try and make you feel better. Maybe it was for the best your crush didn't reciprocate your feelings. Why?

Because you felt yourself becoming flustered at the realization that Luffy has been holding your hand the entire walk to the restaurant.

Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro watched you mop around in your seat, watching your crush flirt with another person. Even with all the efforts you and Zoro went through to get your crush jealous all ended up in failures. Zoro was not one to shy you away from the truth, he told you in the beginning this plan was not going to work.

Now, here you were, trying to drink your pain away. Zoro was the last person you'd imagine to tell someone to stop drinking. Although, this was different, you looked pathetic being all mopey over some dumbass.

Zoro didn't understand you at all. How can you be sad over that piece of shit? If you asked him, he wasn't even worth your time. Actually, don't ask him that, Zoro would never admit it. He was too stubborn to tell you anything other than "I told you so".

It was a bad idea to come to this party, it was supposed to be fun but you were having an awful time. Zoro could be out enjoying his time drinking with his friends, but he choose to stay by your side instead.

"You know you're not obligated to stay with me, right?" you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "You can be with your friends..."

Zoro would've ignored your comment but he was surprised you were crying. Are you seriously crying over your crush? Somebody who could care less about your feelings? That guy didn't even know you were in the same class as him.

"S-stop crying!" exclaimed Zoro. He didn't know how to deal with emotional people, especially when they were crying.

"But it hurts!" you cried, rubbing your tears away.

Zoro felt anger running through his veins, aggravated by the thought of you crying over that jackass. Stop crying, thought Zoro. Why were you crying over your crush when you had Zoro right there.

"You need to get over it!" spat Zoro, his words coming out rather harshly. He didn't mean to make you feel worse, but he was not going to hide you from the truth. "That jackass is over there making out with someone else and you're here moping like if he even knew you!"

You felt crushed but Zoro continued, "Know your worth! Realize just how cool you are, you were willing to let a loser like him be your boyfriend? Toughen up and find someone who will actually give a shit about you like I do!"

Zoro realized the words that had just come out of his mouth. Did he just give you a borderline confession? No, there was no way Zoro had any feelings for his friend.

Zoro saw how you became flustered, "Don't take that in a weird way!" he was quick to add before downing his beer.

Zoro tried his best to ignore the situation that unfolded. Where did that all come from? There was no way those fake dates and hand holding could've made him fall for you. It wasn't real, it was all an attempt to make your crush jealous; but, Zoro couldn't deny that he felt a little warm on the inside when he thought about being official with you.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

You were mindlessly going through Sanji's TV, looking for something to watch and ease your brain. At first, Sanji was surprised when you showed up to his house unannounced with a somber expression. You told him you would be with your crush on a so called "study date". It wasn't a real date but you thought it was a step closer to victory to name it one.

"The study session was cancelled," you muttered, dropping yourself on Sanji's couch. "Said he couldn't make it and then I saw him making out with someone else in another part of campus. Amazing, right?"

You looked miserable, your eyes were red and puffy. You had been crying as you made your way to Sanji's house.

Sanji wasted no time comforting, "Let me make you something to eat, hopefully you'll feel a lot better," he said, heading to the kitchen.

Sanji couldn't understand how someone could do that to you. You were cute, passionate and smart, traits Sanji admired since the first time you two met in class. He wished he got to have half the attention that you gave to your crush.

Sanji was already aware of his growing feelings for you but he choose to keep quiet. Before he had known he grew so fond of you, Sanji had already agreed to your plan. Others would call it a bad decision on his end, you would hold his hand and take him on 'dates'. It didn't make his situation any better, seeing how he fell even harder

Yet, Sanji would refuse to tell you about his feelings. You had your eyes on somebody else and he respected your decision, even if it would hurt him.

"Here you go," Sanji laid the plate in front of you. "Don't cry too much while eating, it'll make it taste saltier."

You have him a tired giggle but it was immediately replaced with a sad expression. Sanji knew what had happened earlier hurt you a lot.

"Sanji..." you started, snapping Sanji out of his daze. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"W-what?" Sanji was baffled by your question.

You looked ashamed of yourself but you repeated your question. "Do you think I'm beautiful...?"

What kind of question is that? Does Sanji think you're beautiful? Beautiful is just one of the many words he would use to describe how you look to him. He could spend hours writing letters on your beauty alone, of course you were pretty. How could Sanji explain to you how fast his heart beats every time he sees you? How he wished you looked at him with the same adoration you look at your crush.

Sanji knew he would be crossing his boundaries, but he felt you needed to know. He cupped both of your cheeks, giving you a compassionate look. You felt yourself becoming flustered with how intimate his touch felt.

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes upon, darling," said Sanji.

He truly meant it. All those fake dates would pale in comparison to what he could truly offer you. You felt yourself lean in closer to Sanji, closing the gap between your lips and his.

If you let him, Sanji would make you the happiest person on earth.

Usopp:

"What if we egg his house?" suggested Usopp.

Curse him and his mouth, now you were adamant in putting his idea to work. Usopp didn't have this feeling when he was hyping you up and while both of you walked to your crush's house. Now that he was physically there, Usopp could feel his legs shaking, he wanted nothing more than to run to the hills.

"Are you ready!?" you exclaimed with eggs already in your hands. "Here!"

You handed Usopp the eggs so he could join you. Even though it was dark and nobody could see you, Usopp was scared. He felt like the police was watching the both of you, ready to arrest you. He didn't know why he would ever come up with this idea. If he was being honest, Usopp thought you would reject it, opting instead in taking the high road.

"Yes, that's a perfect idea!" you exclaimed, getting your sweater.

Usopp saw how awful you felt after being ditched by your crush who asked you out on a 'date". He felt happy for you that the plan worked but also crushed. It meant you would no longer be able to hang out with him like you used to. You wouldn't be able to hold his hand or invite him out to places. Instead of being 'dating' Usopp, you'd be dating your crush.

When he saw you down in the dumps, Usopp felt rage. You tried so hard to get your crush's attention just so he could blow you off? Usopp would trade places with your crush if he could, he was insane.

What was even more insane was the fact that you were ready to throw the first egg.

"Wait!" whispered Usopp, looking around nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

You frowned, "Usopp, this man ditched me, giving me false hope!" you didn't hesitate to throw the egg which landed on the window. "If you ask me, he deserves it!"

You're right. He does deserve it. He deserves it for making you cry, for giving you false hope, but most importantly, for ruining his chances with you. Usopp could feel his legs shaking but he decided to ignore the nervous feeling pooling inside his stomach. He took a deep breathe and threw the egg and it landed on his roof.

"Woo-!"

You covered Usopp's mouth to try and not draw attention, but both of you started giggling. The both of you continued to throw eggs, almost finishing the carton of eggs. Before you could throw the last two eggs, the lights inside your crush's house turned on.

"Who is that!" you can hear their yelling from the inside even though it's muffled.

Usopp did not hesitate to grab your hand, sprinting away from the premises. You were stumbling a little, trying to catch up to his speed but you were trying to hold in your laughter. You two were this close to getting caught, but to Usopp it was worth it. You were smiling and having fun, it always made his day when you were happy. If only he would be able to confess to you. He was a coward, constantly needing hype from his friends to even try and think of confessing to you.

But maybe one day, Usopp would gain enough courage to confess to you and ask you out on a proper date instead of a fake one.

[prncessjaeger]

i changed my mind 🎀

the day you met suguru was the day you wished you should’ve ignored him, but who could ignore the way you both instantly clicked despite the main difference between you two, him being the best friend of the golden boy aka satoru gojo, having everyone wrapped around his finger, and you being the girl who’s well… not very well known and coined the term, “never out pass 8.”

but suguru didn’t care, infact he seemed like he loved how polar opposites you both were, and you could tell by the way he’d compliment you, the rushed feeling he gives you when he kisses you, the ongoing lavish dates he takes you on, it was all perfect. 

too perfect, infact. he treated you so well you could only see the good in him and that’s when the problems began. kissing his lips, you felt his arms circle your waist pulling you even closer. your hips grinded against his half-hardened dick, when you both were interrupted with yet another text from his phone. you felt him pull away, “noo sugu-” “give me a sec…damn,” he mumbled reading the content on his phone, “i..got to go,” “again?” your groaned, hopping off his lap feeling unsatisfied yet again and sighed when he mentioned there was another party he was invited to, “look ‘sugu, i trust you but it’s kinda hard to keep that trust when you’re partying every night with all those girls-”

“it’s always about the “partying”, good gosh, you jealous of them or something?” your face scrunched up in confusion, “uh no why would i be jealous of a party? i’m talking about you always leaving and going out to party?” he huffed and got up from his seat, “baby it’s college! who wouldn’t wanna go out and party?” “so you’d rather go out than be with your girlfriend?” he pushed your finger away when you pointed at him, “don’t start, besides you must wanna come with me or something?” you looked at the time, 7:37 p.m, then all the books and papers you had to finish studying, “why would would love to, but it’s getting late, and you know i have to-” “study. why can’t you brush it off for once and hang out with me, huh? you always blow me off for some dumn ass studying,” he murmured the last part but you heard him pretty clear. “okay, fine we can go-”

“nah, i’ll go with kara and shoko instead, you focus on your 'studying'…” your head jerked back, wondering who the hell “kara” was, “ suguru i said we can go, studying can wait-” “nope. see you tomorrow.” he grabbed his jacket and keys and left your apartment in a swift, not even kissing your cheek like usually does. not feeling the want to do anything school related anymore, you closed your books and watched youtube until your eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.

the second time it happened, you both were at a prestigious dinner with all your friends when suguru abruptly left your side and left the restaurant, and shoko took notice, asking “where did geto go?” “umm that’s a great question, i’ll call him.” you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, frowning when it went voicemail. you called and called but to no avail he didn’t answer, “must be an emergency, so i’ll just send him a text, anyways how was vegas?” “oh it was amazing, we visited sooo many hotels and shows…” you casually listened to her story while checking your phone, only to be met with setting notifications and it honestly started to worry you. so, you ended up leaving the dinner early, catching a cab home only to be met with suguru himself standing at your doorstep, looking disheveled and marked up, “hey! where did you run off? are you okay? did something bad happen??-” you were cut off with your name falling from his lips sternly, “i’m fine. can i just come in and change my clothes?” feeling a weird vibe coming from him, you let your hands drop from his blazer, “sure.” you let him in, smelling a weird smell coming from his suit, “new cologne? it smells… fruity?” “nah, it’s probably your cheap perfume you like to wear,” you walked to him and watched him act unfazed, and you went to sniff his shoulder confirming that the smell came from him, “but... you smell like mangoes, suguru , and you know i hate mangoes- are you cheating on me?”

“oh my god! look, i went to-” “where! where’d you go hm, “kara’s house”,” you watched his hold his head in his hands and sigh, “no, i went to my aunt’s for a family emergency, and she hugged me…” he gave you a perplexed look, rolled his eyes and walked away to the bathroom. feeling guilty, you texted your friend, shoko, to see if you were just overeacting on the possibility of him cheating on you, but she ended up sending you a long voice note about how “suguru’s not shit” and “you deserve better,” and ended it with a detailed plan on how to leave him…

…but instead you brushed it off once more and let him cuddle you that night, forgiving him yet , again. 

the third time was the final straw. 

since it was the week off for break, everyone decided to go to the beach for a much-needed vacation away from school and ever since suguru helped bring your bags down to where you were sitting, you haven’t seen him since. satoru walked up to you and sighed, “hey! how’s you and suguru?” “oh!- we’re uh, doing fine…why?” he grabbed your drink from your hand, “just asking, you both seem a little distant compared to before,” hearing those words had you in deep thought, depicting every single interaction you and suguru had to prove satoru’s statement, “um, well he has been a little off with me?” “how so?” “just brushing me off, leaving abruptly, things like that.” satoru looked back to where suguru was, eyes widening when he saw him with a familiar tall blonde chatting it up at the beach bar, so he moved to be directly in front of you hoping you couldn’t see him, "what’re you doing?” “nothing, the sun was in my eyes so i moved to see you better,” squinting your eyes, you hummed and asked, “anyways, where’s sugu? you seen him yet?” he furrowed his brows, “oh i don’t know, i figured he was over here, that’s actually why i came over here but when i didn’t see him, i just talked to you instead-” when satoru’s nervous, he likes to ramble and spew out useless information.

a trait everyone knew satoru had. 

“satoru…where is he?” you saw him rub his neck bashfully and sigh, “look i only found out just minutes ago when i looked back at him and-”

“found out what?” you asked but you went unheard by satoru, “- and i’d hate for you to find out this way, that would suck cause-” “find out what, what way?” “-cause you’re a really sweet girl but i just think you aren’t the…right one for him. i mean he’s so caught up-” “what?” “he barely shows you love-” “satoru! if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and stop talking over me?” satoru sighed and mumbled, “i’m sorry,” and moved to the side, revealing suguru and some tall blonde girl close together, watching him feed her…grapes? giggling with her- kissed her much more passionately than he’s ever kissed you “the fuck?” 

like any normal person, you’d go over and probably curse him out, hit him a couple of times and leave him with breaking off the relationship, but instead you sighed and nodded, “you know what? i’m gonna go home and i’ll…see you later.” you packed up your towel and left in your car, suguru hearing your car speed down the highway, then turned to see your spot now being crowded by the others on the trip wondering where you’d drive off to.

“shit…” he muttered, the girl watched him sigh in his hands, “everything okay?”

“everything’s perfect, hey why don’t we uh, get out of here yeah?” hearing a small “yeah” the two got up and walked back to her car, and when satoru walked to the bar to confront suguru, he was now where to be seen…

…now, months have passed and you and suguru have barely spoken to each other by this point. even though you both officially never ended the relationship, he barely acknowledged you nowadays and stopped coming over, but you decided to not let it phase you and instead you focused on yourself, entering your “healed girl era” or whatever the coined term was. 

since the…"split", you and satoru have gotten closer especially after he stopped being friends with suguru days after his amidst cheating, (he ended up staying by your side and even helped you out of your funk), and today he invited you to a party. 

ironic, considering parties were the main problem in your past relationship, but you needed a change of scenery. being a nursing major was tough and sitting in your apartment all cooped up with billions of textbooks, you were tired! so, you went to your closet and picked out a cute top with a skirt to match, grabbing your fur boots and jewlery to complete the look. once you finished your makeup, you heard the doorbell ring and a set of keys jiggle, jumping when satoru’s loud voice echoed in your room, “y/nnnn!” “toruuuu!” “hey bestie-oh you look real cute, give me a spin hm?” he grabbed your hamd and spun your around, “okay so good news, i’m here bad news, the party’s in suguru’s house and it’s more of a get-together rather a party.” “hm…” you hummed, "i mean we don't have to go if you don't want to?" you grabbed your purse anyway and walked to the door, “but what if i still wanna go though?” “well let’s go!” he drove fairly quick considering suguru only lived 3 minutes away from you, and when you arrived you noticed the other couple of cars. you and satoru got out, him holding the drinks and your purse and knocked on the door, shrieks coming from shoko when she saw you, “it’s my babyyyyy!”

suguru turned his head hearing shoko’s claim and immediately knew it was you. his nerves skyrocketed and he sighed nervously, “hey everything alright?” the blonde he now dates, yuki, asked as she massaged his scalp, “yeah…she’s here,” “oh! uh, okay. don’t be nervous i’m sure she’d come around…” soon yuki would eat her words the minute you walked in the room, greeting everyone except the two. “ugh i’m so happy you’re here, i’ve missed you-gojo’s taking you away from us all the time now,” shoko complained as she hugged your figure, hasn’t let go of you since she saw you at the door. 

suguru noticed how you looked more comfortable, relaxed even with satoru which was odd considering any other time you wouldn’t pay him no mind, and with shoko’s claim of satoru “taking you away” he wondered just how close you two were becoming. 

after many, many drinks and games later, you excused yourself to the bathroom and after five minutes, suguru followed you up, satoru and shoko taking notice of it. drying your hands, you opened the door only to be met with suguru himself, “what’re you doing-” “you fucking him now? you’re such a slut you’d fuck my best friend next? and we haven’t even broken up-” “we were broken up the minute you put your lips on yuki! and you know that, so don’t come up here fucking accusing and yelling at me like i’m stupid! the fuck,” you watched him step closer to you, causing you to step back into a wall, “i still love you, you know that right?” “but i don’t love you,” suguru chuckled and rubbed his hand over his mouth, “you sure about that? just months ago you were telling me how much you wanted to get married and have my babies, remember?” he leaned down as his lips hovered over yours, “not anymore geto, i’ve changed my mind-” “ohhh so it's geto now? besides, it felt like you were determined before,”

“you just wasted my time geto, so move.” you shoved him out the way, feeling his hand grab your wrist, “baby, come back i missed you, we can do all the things you want if you just come back, i’ll be better for you i swear…” you heard him plead and please, over and over again but in the end it doesn't matter how many apologies he can spew out, like before and always,

you'll go right back to him…

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 20 Prompt: Sick Day

Tags: Established Relationship, Mentions Of Past Parental Loss, Eddie Munson Needs A Hug, Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 1290 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve doesn’t get it.

He’s seen Eddie in worse shape.

Death knocking on his door, tubes, and machines keeping him alive. In spite of the shitty cards he was dealt, he always had a smile on his face — cracking jokes with the kids, charming his way into extra pudding cups and sides of mashed potatoes. Steve’s pretty sure they mourned the day he was finally released because he had a way of making even the crabbiest doctors smile.

If ever there was a time to be miserable and wallow in the pain it was then.

And yet, a winter cold has managed to knock Eddie on his ass, turning him into the most miserable, helpless version of himself.

Steve hates it.

Not because Eddie is whiney and dramatic (he’s both of those things on a good day), but because he doesn’t know what to do to help.

Days and nights blend together as Eddie stays sheltered in his bedroom. His bed is a nest of blankets and pillows — half the time he’s burrowed under them, no doubt making his fever worse, and the other half he’s propped up on pillows, desperately hoping the elevated position will ease his cough. A hoard of half-empty bowls of soups and napkins full of nibbled-on crackers are scattered on his nightstand along with the cold medicine Wayne picked up three (maybe, four?) days ago. The one Eddie refuses to take because it makes him feel worse.

His usual unruly curls are flattening by the second and his cheek has a near-permanent indentation of his wrinkled pillowcase at this point. If it weren’t for his frequent trips to the bathroom, Steve would be worried about muscle loss and blood clots on top of the hundred other ways he’s worrying about Eddie right now.

Steve’s tried everything. His grandmother’s chicken noodle soup, coaxing Eddie into a warm shower, even phoned Ms. Henderson to see if she had any home remedies he wasn’t thinking of. Nothing seems to be working.

At a loss, Steve tiptoes into Eddie’s room hoping to find him sleeping beneath the covers.

He’s not.

“Eddie, baby,” Steve coos. Toeing his shoes off, he pads his way over to the edge of the bed and runs a hand over the corner of the bed in search of Eddie’s legs. When he’s certain they’re not there, he sits. “What can I do to help?”

Eddie groans and presses the right side of his face deeper into the pillow. A single tear races down his cheek as he sniffles. “Could you just lie with me?” he croaks, voice horse from lack of use and the sore throat he’s been fighting for the last few days.

“Course, baby. Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

He doesn’t wait for the answer and instead shuffles up the bed. Resting his back against the headboard, he kicks out his legs over the hoard of blankets and lets himself sink into the warm mattress. Once he’s situated, Eddie shifts until his back is pressed against Steve’s side. It’s weird feeling the heat that radiates from his body — he’s usually the one with cold hands and feet in the relationship.

“Didn’t want to get you sick,” Eddie mumbles eventually.

“Don’t mind getting sick, if it means you’ll feel better.” Steve means it. He would shoulder all the sickness and pain in the world if it meant that Eddie and everyone else he loves never had to feel anything but happy and healthy. If only the world worked like that. “Do you need anything?”

It’s silent in the room as Steve waits for Eddie’s response. So quiet, Steve wonders if maybe Eddie’s drifted to sleep and he’s waiting for a response that’s never going to come. But then Eddie shifts beside him, slowly rolling onto his other side so he can face him.

“I need my mom,” Eddie whispers just as the floodgates open, tear after tear falling from his eyes in that slow dramatic way they only do in movies. At least, Steve thought it only happened in movies.

His heart seizes in his chest as Eddie reaches for the soft sweater he’s wearing. Doesn’t complain when he buries his face into it, staining it with tears and snot and whatever else as Eddie’s body shakes under the weight of his tears.

Christ.

He doesn’t get it, not entirely. His own mother was never the nurturing type — she’d slap down medicine on his bedside table and leave a list of places she’d be if he needed to reach her, but that was it. Never once did she rest her hand against his forehead to check his temperature, let alone sit at his bedside.

But he knows Eddie’s mom would have done those things. Probably did do all those things judging by the way his boyfriend is sobbing in his arms right now.

Admittedly he doesn’t know much about Ms. Munson — he’s gathered it's hard for Eddie to talk about her. But he knows enough to know the world lost an incredibly kind soul way too early.

“Eds,” Steve sighs, scooting down until he’s lying down with Eddie firmly curled up on his chest. He gets both arms around him, squeezing him tighter. “I wish I could.”

“She always—” Eddie hiccups, wincing as the motion burns his already aching throat. “She always used to lie down with me. Run her fingers through my hair until her ring got caught in my curls. Then she’d move to tracing up and down my arm.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice. He lets one hand drift into Eddie’s tangled curls, scratching his scalp before gently carding his fingers through a few strands. His other hand ghosts up and down his arm, goosebumps erupting in his featherlight touches wake.

“Like this?”

Eddie melts under the contact, nuzzling deeper into the warmth of Steve’s sweater. “She made the best grilled cheese sandwich when I was sick. And she’d cut them in weird ways. Let me eat them in bed while she told some story she made up on the spot.”

“Well, m’no storyteller. But I can make a grilled cheese. Probably not as good as your mom's though.”

“No,” Eddie agrees, the smallest smile tugging at his lips as he looks up. “She had a secret ingredient she never told me.”

“Bet it was love.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, shaking his head, “That’s lame.”

“Yeah, it is. She wouldn’t have had a lame secret ingredient.”

“She was the best,” Eddie sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before they flutter open again. This time he wiggles out of Steve’s embrace and moves his head back to his pillow before grimacing at the wet stain left behind on Steve’s sweater. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Eds. S’just a sweater.”

“I know. I just…” he groans and rubs circles over his eyes with his fists. “I always miss her more when m’sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says, pulling at him until Eddie’s back on his chest and his hand is back in his curls. “You can tell me about her, you know? Whenever you want. I like hearing you talk about her.”

“Maybe when my throat doesn’t burn like Satan’s living room.”

Steve laughs.

There’s his boy.

“You know, that medicine over there might help with that,” Steve teases, gesturing to the untouched medicine.

Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust, shaking his head.

“Alright, you big baby,” Steve chuckles. “Why don’t you get some sleep then?”

“Will you stay?” Eddie asks, already fighting sleep judging by his fluttering eyelashes.

“Course I’ll stay,” he whispers. “I’ll even make you a grilled cheese when you wake up.”

“Full of love?”

“Yeah, Eds. Full of love.”

[kithtaehyung]

starry night (m) | jjk

title: starry night pairing: jungkook x reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff , smut ; established relationship, gamer au summary: all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date. warnings: fluff, language, a tiny bit of overwatch lingo, thigh riding, a cute ass date :’)), fingering, penetration, protected sex, tit play if you squint, spanking, they’re both competitive af, hickies, praise, body worship, self-conscious reader argh, multiple orgasms, jk has a big dick but what’s new!!, tatted jk is a warning in itself, koo is a softie for his baby girl :(((, idk this really is just soft smut lmfao note: this is for all the koo lovers out there! also, this is a revamp from the last version bc that one was a version i wasn’t entirely happy with :’)) can’t even describe how much happier i am with this now dsjklf if you’ve read it or not, hope you like the newest version and happy jk day! drop date: september 1st, 2022, 9am est total word count: 7k

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“One more game, okay?”

From your spot in the doorway, you wait as your boyfriend pushes half of a clearly worn down headset aside.

“What did you say, babe?”

“One more game!” Giggling at his befuddled expression, you surge on, “Then get dressed. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

Jungkook glances at his monitor before shifting meaningful eyes back toward you, stoic. Very, very stoic.

“It’s 2am.”

You wave off the obvious reluctance. This is something you'd been planning for a week, ever since you read that damn article on your phone.

“Seems so,” you decide to tease instead. “Just let me know when you’re ready!”

In a rush, you bound back into the hallway—the door left wide open in your springy wake. Judging by the yell followed by a quick grunt, you assume he got thrown into another match before he could scold you properly.

Perfect. You have time to get everything ready.

Excitement fizzles along your bones as you scramble around the apartment, gathering things in your arms.

Do you have the date and time right? Yes. Are you absolutely sure that your boyfriend is going to slink out of his cave? Probably.

Well.

He’s coming along this time, whether he likes it or not. So no matter what his response is, you’re gonna make it a yes.

But your answer arrives a mere ten minutes later, sweats and three layers of clothing swallowing its form.

“Wait, that was quick,” you observe. “Were there leavers?”  

“Two on our side,” he complains, frustration tugging his beanie down a little too far. "So boring.”

“Lame. Well, you can queue again after we get back from our date.” Snatching a blanket off the leaning pile next to your couch, you join Jungkook in the entryway.

But it’s only then that you realize something’s missing. “Oh, wait. Lemme get one more thing.”

While you poke your head in multiple rooms and rummage, your boyfriend continues his whining, “This date couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s freezing outside.”

Oh, it absolutely cannot. Not this time.

Offering a look of pity from a doorway, you sigh, “It really can’t.” You go back to your search, voice wrapping around the walls and furniture, “And we have a ways to go, so. You can sleep in the car if you want.”

His poor tone raises in pitch a couple pegs, “How long is this gonna take?”

“You’ll see!” Finally victorious, you secure the outdoor pillow you wanted—remembering it haphazardly flung into the dining nook during an impromptu pillow fight—and rejoin your boyfriend at the door. Flicking his nose with your free hand, you chuckle, “Always so impatient.”

The pout you receive is almost crushing, but you have to push forward.

However, as soon as you open your front door, you definitely think about chickening out.

Jungkook’s absolutely correct.

It’s bitingly cold outside.

“Shit, babe,” he winces, and you throw him an apologetic glance. “Are you sure you’re okay going?”

You nod while stepping out first, too affected by the chill to verbally reply. After you lock the door behind you both, you frantically follow him in a stilted race to your car.

Why does it have to be freezing? Why couldn’t you have gotten this idea during spring? Or summer!

Gritting your chattering teeth, you envy everyone in possession of a car with automatic-start.

But your jealousy is swiftly smothered, your boyfriend’s half-jog, half-hop form of travel pulling laughter from your throat instead of grumbles. With his puffed jacket swallowing his whole top half, he’s not far off from resembling a skittering ball of boba, and you can’t help but grin until your cheeks burn as much as your ears.

Your happy breath coalesces into the wind in soft tendrils. Even now, when it’s decidedly frigid, Jungkook somehow finds a way to keep you warm.

Just like he always does.

Goddamn, you love him. Though thrusting the two of you into near-subzero conditions in the dead of night may imply the opposite.

Regardless, you don’t have much of a way to go. After all, you had been meticulous in your planning, your vehicle a noble steel steed occupying the closest spot in the lot.

When you both settle inside with rapid puffing and shivering, you toss your pile of date items onto Jungkook’s lap. “Close your eyes for me, okay? You can’t know where we’re going.”

“Seriously?” He frowns in earnest now, shoulders knocking against his ears. “This feels more like an attack than a date.”

But despite his complaints, your boyfriend shifts the bedding in his possession before obeying, kicking his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes. When you look over, you notice he’s already comfortable, arms slung around the pillow and blanket draped over his still legs.

There is still a downward slump to his lips, though. And while you can’t blame him, you still giggle because you know what’s coming. “Just trust me, babe. I’m sure you’ll like this place.”

Ugh. His tiny pout is still your favorite. “I bet not. But since you’re driving...”

After you pull out of your spot, a smirk carves into your features. “Bet for real, then,” you goad, tempting his competitive spirit. “If I win, you spend the whole night with me.”

It doesn’t work.

Without opening his eyes, Jungkook frowns with his whole face. “It’s the end of the comp season! I’m already pushing it not playing now.”

“Love the confidence, Kookie,” you chirp. “If I lose, I’ll never tear you away from your precious gaming chair again.”

A single sigh serves as his white flag of surrender. “Deal.”

And you don’t miss the grin in his tone.

Because if he’s thinking the same thing you are, he’s remembering the night you gifted him the damn thing.

Neither of you left that chair for awhile.

Finally, the car warms comfortably, and the accompanying music has you bopping your head and drumming gloved fingers on the wheel.

Jungkook’s melodic singing proves indicative of his content—a sign that he isn’t entirely against your mysterious scheme.

Scheme? More like a calculated risk. Either way, you can tell Jungkook’s interest is decidedly piqued, and it’s enough to make you even more thrilled.

Knowing the directions to the location by heart, you take necessary and unnecessary turns, twisting and winding through the city streets. Whether these cheeky moves throw your annoyingly observant boyfriend off or not, you can’t say for sure.

Regardless, you make sure that the trip is much longer than it needs to be.

Checking the time on your phone, you figure five songs is a good enough length of time to keep driving. So you finally decide to arrive.

When your destination comes into view, you roll into a parking spot and announce—proudly—“We’re here!”

As soon as Jungkook opens his eyes to survey the area, confusion mingles with relief across his whole demeanor, his brows moving in a stilted dance.

Reaching a breaking point, he outright laughs. “Seriously?”

The only thing you can do is cackle at his reaction.

You’re right back at your apartment complex, after all.

“Technically, this isn’t exactly where I wanted us to go,” you explain, smiling even harder at your boyfriend’s conflicting emotions.

You know he doesn’t really go out, and you knew that not giving him much to go on was going to frustrate him. But you thought of this idea and wanted to attempt it, since you both at least liked trying new things.

It’s so endearing to see him relieved that you’re home. But your date isn’t quite located somewhere inside. “We’re gonna hang out on the roof tonight.”

A blip of hesitation flashes across his eyes. “It’s even colder up there,” he notes, back to being the boy that didn’t wanna leave in the first place.

“It’ll be worth it! But we have to hurry, or else we’ll miss it.” You scramble out of the car without another word, and groan when Jungkook blatantly takes his time to get out of the passenger seat—slow, unhurried, annoying. “Oh my god, babe!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Follow me.”

The pair of you rush to get to the roof of your building—not without a barrage of complaints from him as you keep discovering stairs—and choose a spot to lay the blanket and pillow out. Lying down, you shuffle as close to your boyfriend as your puffy jackets allow.

You made it on time.

You think.

Crap, did you?

At least the wind isn’t too harsh tonight. This truly would’ve been a nice experience regardless if it wasn’t exceedingly and utterly cold.

But no matter.

Because above you, the sky is vast, and majestic, and speckled with tiny pinpricks of light. Not normally able to observe the universe at its fullest, you take in the current night with amazement, mouth opening in surprise as it claims your entire vision.

And you aren’t the only one steeped in wonder.

Beside you, Jungkook exhales, his awe leaving him in wisps. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“This is nice.”

“It’ll get better,” you hope, recalling the article you based this entire night around. “Should be in just a moment.”

And you couldn’t have been more timely.

On cue, a wintry meteor shower graces the skies. Streaks of white, orange, and yellow soar across the dark expanse—tiny light trails carving bright, uncharted roads through an indigo ocean.

And the cold only makes this mesmerizing procession more memorable. Both of your bodies remain frozen, subtly forced to focus solely on the spectacle overtaking your eyes.

Extraordinary. Stellar.

Fully enraptured, you almost forget to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction.

So when you drink in his appearance, your heart flutters so rapidly that it threatens to collapse or burn out like a dying star.

All the celestial bodies congregate in his orbs, the meteors from above suddenly swimming in his pupils and sparkling across his irises.

Does he really encapsulate more in his soul than what exists in the heavens?

How is that even possible?

Your breath hitches without your permission, and you aren’t sure if it’s the weather that coaxes tears from your eyes or your love for the boy gasping skyward.

When Jungkook turns to face you, you know the answer is both.

Noticing your features, he simply smiles. One cheek is wiped. Then the other.

“I win,” you proclaim in a cracked voice, and he only laughs and tugs you in for a crushing hug.

“You win.”

Immersed in his warmth, you allow more tears to fall sideways, your adoration sliding straight into the rough material of his jacket.

There isn’t another place in the world you want to be, no other marriage of latitude and longitude that can coerce your bones. Curling your fingers around his coat, you whisper,

“But seriously, this is all I wanted to show you. You can go back to playing when we get back inside.”

“Look at me.”

Tilting your head, you aren’t allowed a second to think before soft lips descend upon yours, conveying everything from gratitude to love in the span of seconds. Before you can respond in kind, your boyfriend pulls back, his voice a plush tenor as he explains,

“A win is a win.”

“But you said—”

Another peck halts your tiny excuse.

“There’s always next season,” he murmurs, nudging your chilly nose with his own. “And I didn’t know you were showing me this.”

Thankful, you sigh, “Okay. Well, let’s go back inside, at least.” Attempting to sit up, you get tugged back down in a blankety heap. “What!”

“The meteor shower! Is there more?”

“Oh. No,” you sigh. “It’s already over.”

“Aw, man! Really?” Jungkook flops back to scan the galaxy again, as if some blazing trails would still be lingering in the dark.

Huffing out a laugh, you admire his childlike wonder, never wanting it to leave him behind.

“That was so cool.”

“It was,” you agree, getting to your feet. “I read about it last week. I figured you’d like it.”

Beaming up at you, your boyfriend gathers the blanket and pillow under his arm before standing, cradling one of your gloved hands in his sure fingers. “I like anything with you,” he admits, reserved in his expression but confident in his words.

And even though your body’s frozen, your heart is positively melting.

“Good thing, then.” You chuckle as you both approach the stairwell door, deciding to test his statement, “I’ll remember that when I ask you to knit with me.”

“Uhh.” Jungkook simply offers a cocked brow. “Warning you now. Don’t get mad when I end up better than you.”

“I have smaller fingers. You’re never gonna surpass me.”

“Maybe I already know how to knit.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook yanks the ponderous exit open, holding it for you to pass through first. “When grandmas love you, do you ever have to prove anything?”

Tossing a disgruntled look over your shoulder, you scoff, “That’s not fair! Grandmas love you anyways.”

There’s a flash of teeth when he giggles at your glowing accusation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to catch him unawares. “But whatever. You know what I’m better at?”

“Mm, coming in second?”

“Running down stairs.”

Bursting into a sprint, you hightail it down the metal steps, chortling at the whiny shouts behind your descending form.

Down, down, down. Turn after turn.

Holy shit, how many flights are there?

You counted four on the ascent but it feels like a miscount at that moment. Your boots squeak with every stride, the stairwell thrumming with the two of you tearing through its indents.

Jungkook’s heavy shoes paired with the floofy baggage should slow him down, but his determination seems to grant him an extra boost. Hauling yourself forward, you expend every last drop of energy to reach the bottom floor first, huffing and puffing your victory brag when you achieved your goal.

A few steps behind, Jungkook breathily accuses, “Chea—”

“And the score is two to zero!” You abruptly cheer as you pompously shove the building door aside, steamrolling his wrong words with raised arms.

“Maybe I will go and queue again,” Jungkook teases behind you, earning an instant mini-grovel. At your whiplash display of emotions, he blows out a laugh, admitting,

“I’m kidding. But don’t test me.”

Your apartment is just in reach. Still breathing hard from the long descent, you retrieve your keys, hearing them jangle before you slot them into the door.

As much as you enjoyed your short-lived date, it’s nice to be back inside. The pair of you shuck off your coats and winter accessories as soon as you cross the threshold, both winded and thinking of the stellar event.

A stark difference in temperature, the warmth inside only tickles your iced cheeks. Slipping off your boots, you place yours next to Jungkook’s on the front mat before ambling to the living room.

It’s absurdly late, but the adrenaline from your sudden competition has you firmly alert.

Good. You’re sure to crash beautifully in about thirty minutes.

Puffed cushions greet you as you plop onto the sofa, and you curl your legs while waiting for your boyfriend to join. Your fuzzy sweater bunches around your waist, and you tut as you tug it back down, still self-conscious even after all these years with his assurances.

Light humming wafts from the entrance, and you simply bask in the soft notes, serene. 

While you consider yourself pretty average in the choir department, your boyfriend truly is otherworldly. Your affection has reached the point where you’re thoroughly convinced he was a siren in his past life - or at least the reason behind those myths.

Tugging off the last of his overshirts, Jungkook joins you with only a simple tee. You shamelessly admire the way his chest and arms resist the material - and the way his waist does not.

Dumping himself by your side, he rests his fluffy head on your shoulder, and your body’s response is to hum on contact. “What now, miss two-zero,” he queries, giggling when you scoff.

“I dunno.” You lay your head on his, feeling the silkiness of his dark locks on your thawing cheeks. “I honestly thought you were gonna go back to playing, so. I didn’t make any other plans.”

Tenderly, you place a kiss on his crown of hair, your lips straying a beat after.

When he visibly perks up, you immediately know that, despite being holed up in that damn game room all week, Jungkook missed your touch significantly. 

Which is perfect. Because you’ve been wanting his, too.

His eyes lift, traces of stars and diamonds embedded within their depths. Flitting his gaze to your lips, he seems temporarily spaced - a look he had been wearing recently. It’s like he has something he wants to say, but either has the words jammed in his throat or not there at all.

If he didn’t melt at your touch, this definitely would be where you started to worry. Instead, you’re just downright concerned.

“What, baby,” you whisper, slipping right into a sigh as a strong hand cradles your neck and smooth lips connect with your curiosity.

Jungkook takes his time, lazily kissing you as if he was destined for nothing else in existence.

And you respond, matching his relaxed strokes and letting him skip over the subject. Even as he lowers your bodies onto familiar cushions, you’re okay if you talk about it later.

Besides. You’re most definitely crashing soon.

This man will make sure of that.

Bunching your hands in his shirt, you tug him a tad closer, sighing through his hot breaths when you feel his chiseled weight on your stomach.  

Leaving your wet and pouting lips, he only smiles before pecking your forehead, stilling in a delicate pause before dragging his nose across your countenance to kiss both cheeks.

And you can only shudder under his tenderness. In an attempt to hide—bashful nature taking over—you duck your head into the safety of his neck. 

But you can’t run for long because Jungkook swoops in to reclaim your lips, the sudden move causing heat to swirl between your thighs and desire to fill your pupils. “Kookie.”

“Yes, baby girl,” he answers, a tiny trail of saliva between your mouths as he pulls away.

Your response comes out a sigh, “Nothing.” Reaching up to shift a long bang out of his face, you drink in his beauty, never running out of sips. “I just love you.”

Grinning, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he proudly reciprocates, “I love you, too.” He hauls his body up before taking one of your hands. “Come here.”

Wordlessly, you acquiesce for your self-proclaimed siren, letting him lure you from the couch to embark on a telltale journey to your bedroom—depths you would endlessly dive.

Glancing at your conjoined hands, you roam your eyes over his veiny forearms, admiring the ink on his canvas. Your favorite work of art. No museum in the world was worthy enough.

Jungkook turns in the doorway before pulling you close, bending to capture your lips in a shockingly heated kiss. Jerking your arms up to hold his biceps, you bury your digits into his muscles, dragging them hard the way he loves so much.

And it awakens a sleeping beast: inked fingers clawing at your pants.

“You want them off, baby?” When you receive a nod in response, you pause your movements to slip out of the material, letting your bottoms puddle around your feet.

Without warning, Jungkook dives in to lather your neck with hot breaths, wordlessly letting you know he wants the sweater gone next.

And, without fail, you resist and want to keep it on.

“You’re so beautiful,” your boyfriend mutters into your skin, fighting off those familiar thoughts he knows lurk in your conscience. “You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

“I know, but...”

“It’s okay.”

As he leads you both to your comforting bed, you melt into his increasingly searing nips and sucks, moaning as his tongue licks all the way up to your ear.

“We can make you feel good first.”

You don’t even register Jungkook sitting on the edge until your underwear comes in contact with his sweats, his erection rigid against your soft sex.

How can he get hard so quickly? How does this happen, time after time? He always blames you, but you never quite believe him. Then again, you never get enough time to—

A deep chuckle rumbles within his ribcage as he repositions you, body hovering over one of his thighs. His gorgeous, upsettingly tight thighs. 

Teasingly, he asks, "This is where you like it, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit in a moan, wasting no time in sliding your slick core over his pants. “I like this.” 

A hand comes up to slap your ass, and you buck forward on his leg when he rasps out, “Show me how much you do.” 

Unsurprisingly, your underwear proves thoroughly soaked already, and you call yourself a hypocrite for wondering how Jungkook manages to get turned on so fast. 

Under your boyfriend’s lidded observance, you only want to grind hard, with purpose. The friction you want exists in his bulging muscle, rubbing against your covered clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but squeeze yourself around his leg. Harder, tighter, stronger.

Drinking in your movements, Jungkook parts his lips, tensing his thigh at the perfect moment and chuckling darkly when you react.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, too.”

Mewling, you clasp your hands around the back of his neck, rolling your hips repeatedly and wordlessly thanking your boyfriend for working out so often. Fuck, just his thigh is almost enough to make you come. The tautness feels delicious under your clit, and sighs cascade out of your mouth like pretty waterfalls.

“God,” he groans, finally lifting your sweater and yanking it off your raised arms. When he realizes you opted not to wear a bra underneath your thin shirt, he kicks his head back in agony. “Fuck, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a nod of your head. Biting your lip, you rejoin your hands behind his neck and continue to swivel your hips, clenching your thighs around his when your bundle of nerves hits just right. “Feels so good,” you gasp, your breath ragged and steeped in hunger.

“I know.” Your boyfriend tugs your shirt up until your breasts are freed, mouth encircling a nipple and sucking with a lick.

Fuck! Want gushes from your center as he admires your chest—each lick, each suck, each swirl of his tongue—soaking through your underwear and staining liquid white on his pants.

More.

You need a lot more.

Your core aches for a deeper intrusion and you both know it. “Kook,” you whimper, pressing your sweaty forehead to his. “I can’t. I need you.”

“Then lift up for me, love,” he responds, lightly patting one plump side of your ass.

Obeying, you release a drawn out moan as you feel him slide your panties over before one of his deft fingers slips into your folds. Rubbing your clit slow, he collects your sweet juices before lodging his digit in your cunt.

Fucking hell, he knows your body better than you do.

But of course he does. The times before have made him an expert. All those beautiful, tender, countless times before.

Watching your little jumps and tweaks seems to bring him joy, eyes alight with hunger for your pleasure. Inserting another finger, he starts to pump them in a steady rhythm until you felt that hidden spring in your body tighten alarmingly quick.

Shit! There’s no way you’re gonna come so soon, is there? Is there? 

“Baby, I’m close,” you whisper in warning anyway, forehead hot and perspiration starting to coat your face. “You’re too good at this, fuck.”

“Come then, baby,” he coaxes with a smile.

You snap your lust-heavy eyes to his. “You sure?”

“Promise.” His smile tilts to the side as his confidence drips from the corners. “I’ll just make you come again.”

Fuck.

Chasing your high in earnest, your sticky thighs burn as you launch into a quick pace, outright fucking his hand as his slippery digits show no mercy. Your essence leaks out from between his fingers to stain your thighs, but you can’t think about anything else other than release. Release release release.

And it consumes you whole in an instant. Strong. Pulsing. Endless. 

Swallowed by your high, you barely register Jungkook’s hushed praise and encouragement. Pleasure is the only thing you know as it surges through you, twisting across your locked limbs and leaving you weightless, elevated, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Only the sight of your boyfriend licking his fingers clean is your sole, solid grasp on reality.

Because oh. That’s you he’s licking off his fingers.

Why does that always make you feel both turned on and embarrassed all at once?

Slumping forward into the crux of his shoulder, you inhale the heady scent that mingles with his cologne. “Holy shit, I think I saw stars.”

A breathy laugh cascades down your back. “Mm, let’s make that two-one then.”

“You would still keep score,” you huff, dragging your lips across his sweaty skin before attaching them to the base of his neck. As soon as your heated mouth latches on, Jungkook grants you better access, his reaction coming out in a low groan.

Taking the opening, you lick a trail up his column to his ear, sucking on his pulse once you venture back down. Feeling him sigh beneath you creates an urge, and you nip at his skin with more force than usual.

Arms tighten at your sides with a hiss. “Baby, yes.”

You alternate between nips and sucks along his smooth neck, imagining how beautiful it would be if he got it inked, too. Sliding your burning tongue up the shell of his ear, you bite down before pouring praises inside.

To your delight, Jungkook’s cock twitches on your thigh.

Humming, you ask with glee, “Did we find something you like, too?”

“Not sure.” He hisses again. “May need further tes—Fuck.”

You chuckle with joy as you lick his pulsing ear, the skin bright and angry from the torturous nick you just inflicted.

Experimenting and learning Jungkook’s body is something you will never tire of. It remains one of your favorite hobbies, and will stay that way for a wonderfully long time.

Worked up, your boyfriend finally yanks his shirt off, pulling you back in for a searing kiss when it’s thrown onto your laundry chair. Molding yourself into him, your nipples scrape his bare skin—the friction creating another set of swells in your core.

Hugging you close, Jungkook softly falls back onto your bed, keeping you aloft his rippling abdomen. Finally stretching out your legs, you feel relief in your thighs, wincing at the burn from strenuous use. 

Goddamn, you’ll be surprised if you can walk to the next room when everything is over. 

Jungkook isn’t privy to your thoughts. In this new position, he slips your underwear off before grabbing your ass, marveling at its plush curves like he’s never touched you before.

“You see it everyday, Kook,” you murmur between unhurried kisses.

“I do...” He presses his pelvis into yours, his hardened length sliding torturously against your dripping core. Your mewl harmonizes with his groan before he sighs, “But it’s just so perfect.”

You want him. You want him now.

Despite already reaching the summit, you’d plummeted back down and vow to climb again. “I’m still in a shirt and you’re still in pants,” you complain. “Take them off.”

Beneath you, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates through your chest. “You’re the one that held my thigh hostage!”

“Yes, and?”

“It was hot as fuck.”

“Exactly. Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” He huffs out a laugh. “Grab a condom then.”  

Puffing, you push yourself up before slipping out of your already rumpled shirt. Chucking it as close to the laundry chair as you can—both of you humming in pride when it actually gets there—you start crawling across the bed to reach one of the nightstands.

“Ow,” you heave out, met with another light chortle. “My thighs.”

You hear the shuffling of clothes behind you as you retrieve a package from the drawer, sliding it shut before dropping your body in a tired heap.

Damn. There’s a lot of ground to cover between you and him. How the hell are you gonna get over there?

Deciding on the easiest course of action, you literally roll toward your unconcerned boyfriend until you mush into his muscular, bare form. “Hey,” you puff. “Feel sorry for me.”

As he situates himself on an elbow, your boyfriend’s lips mush just to keep a laugh from escaping. But he fails massively, his outburst above your nose causing his eyes to crinkle.

“That was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Pouting and trying to ignore the tingling you feel, you slap the condom wrapper against his chest. “Those stairs took a lot out of me. My thighs are officially tapping out for the night.”

Long fingers still on the metallic packaging. “Did you still want to keep going?”

“What? Duh.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

Tilting your head and smoothing out the covers underneath, you lament, “We haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bending down to plant a heartwarming kiss on your forehead, Jungkook only smiles. “This is about you. I’m already happy.”

“Ugh, stop,” you whine, reaching down to take his velvety cock in your fingers. “Don’t be lame.”

“Babe.” A stern look darts your way and, after you hum in curiosity, he cocks a brow. “You literally made us get in a car so you could drive us back home.”

Laughing in earnest, you quickly admit defeat. “Damn, you got me.”

Your mirth is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips as he descends, an overwhelming appetite for everything you can offer. Pushing his cock further into your palm, his kiss deepens just as much.

His length always feels so weighty in your hand—so comforting, so familiar. But even in its smooth familiarity, you’ve never, ever gotten tired of pleasuring him. You were sure you could stay in and rub his cock until your arm fell off—or if he asked, sucked on it until he begged you to stop.

But he doesn’t ask for either of those things in that moment—solely focused on exploring your heated mouth until he maps it all. Jungkook really is orbiting around you and you alone, and you want to gift him the universe in return.

Relishing in the smoothness of his limbs and feeling safe in the embrace of his build, you stroke him in earnest—pulses in your core in sync with every groan you tug from his throat.

Suddenly, feverish lips leave you chilled.

“Hold on, babe.”

Leaning back, Jungkook effortlessly rips the wrapper open with his teeth before tossing it, his elbow digging into the mattress. After you retract your sticky hand, you watch with a small smile as he covers himself before hovering his beautiful body over yours.

But that’s all he does, and it’s intriguing.

What’s he thinking?

You’re about to ask when his words cut you off.

“You’re…” His eyes roam over your form, the heat of his gaze causing your arms to furl over your chest instinctively. Gingerly halting your limbs, he whispers,

“You’re the love of my life.”

So many things could’ve been said in that moment. So many phrases he has said before in similar situations. But what does he say? What does he go with?

You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Baby,” you murmur, blinking to quell the burn in your ducts. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll cry.”

Gently nudging your legs apart, he slots his body in between. “I mean it,” he pledges, lowering himself to cage you in. Molding his entire body into your naked form, he shuts his eyes in wonder before regarding you with a loving gaze. Soft locks tickle your cheek as he kisses your neck, licking and sucking in the spots that affect you the most. “But I’ll stop.”

“For now,” you correct. “You can make me cry after.”

Jungkook’s breathy laugh will always be one of your favorite sounds. “Deal.”

Sighing, you reach up to clasp his flexed biceps, tightening your holds whenever he starts sucking on your pulse. How he went from worshipping you to devouring you was always intriguing. Maybe to him, they were one and the same.

Between your legs, your folds flutter with want, and you lift your hips as a tiny hint.

“Say what you want, baby girl.”

“You know what I want.”

“Nu uh.”

Feeling the abrupt girth of his head protruding your folds, you grunt with a harsh shot of breath. “Fuck,” you gasp. “I want you, but not all at once, fuck.”

“How are you always so tight,” your boyfriend wheezes, rubbing his length up and down your cunt before nudging in slow. “Holy shit.”

You whimper at the intrusion until you feel yourself adjusting.

But this was expected. Jungkook’s so damn large that you go through this every time. The only times that have been different have come after he’s eaten you out, and even then he’s still a bit big.

However. You know what proceeds the slight ache, and it’s completely worth it. The euphoric feeling of being completely and utterly together. One.

Your core molten and clenching around him, you purr at the way he goes deep, deeper, bottoming out. Above you, Jungkook starts perspiring in earnest, grunting as he keeps himself still. Sheathed entirely inside, he goes back to ravaging your neck, and you encourage him to finally move with a rock of your hips.

“So fucking big,” you praise, mewling when he chuckles during a deep thrust. “I love your dick, baby.”

“It’s yours,” he offers with no hint of hesitation, rolling his hips until you see another set of stars. With each long thrust, his ridges rub like heaven, your lower lips singing their gratitude in tight spasms. “I’m all yours.”

“You can go faster,” you mention in passing, though the breathiness of your voice gives away your desperation.

Maybe you are desperate. May as well lean into it. “Go faster. Faster.”

“If you start being bossy, I’ll come.”

“That’s the point, Kookie.”

Grunting in agreement, he slips a strong arm underneath your hips, lifting you at a slight tilt. The new angle allows him to penetrate deeper, and you sing his name in a continuous hymn with every other plunge. Again and again and again.

His lips connect with yours for the upteenth time that night, as if he was continually magnetized and couldn’t stay away for too long. Your breath’s stolen away with each pass—his soul pouring into yours to make up for its absence.

With each fleeting second, your skin proves slicker with sweat and effort. Exertion appears on Jungkook’s own body in the way his muscles and veins bulge, pulse, shove against the confines of his skin. Ever faster, his hips never tire as he finds a steady rhythm.

“Babe, fuck—”

“So fucking tight.”

Your breasts bounce each time he penetrates, and he curls his body to take one of them in his fiery mouth. You arch your back to aid his hunger, and you moan with every intentional lick and swirl of his tongue.

Nipping your bud, Jungkook smirks at your squirming before attacking the other, shoving his cock far into your sex just to see how loud he can make you whine.

Breathless, you go limp and take his hard rhythm in stride, riding the high of feeling so incredibly full. Only the sounds of your small mewls and his reserved grunts permeate the air, thickening the room and layering more sweat on your skin. You’re sure you look as fucked out as your boyfriend appears, lust manifesting in passionate blooms on his slick skin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he lauds. “Love when you relax for me.”

“Feels so good, Kookie.”

“That’s what I want for you.”

Lolling your head to the side, your lidded gaze latches onto his inked arm. So pretty, just like him. You gnaw on your lip as you contract against his pulsing length, your body bumping with the knocks of his thrusts.

The desire that had been unleashed before coalesces again with a vengeance, sneaking up from the earth and balling itself inside your core. Sliding your eyes to meet Jungkook’s wanton expression, you whimper, “I’m close again, baby.”

“Fuck, I can tell.” He dips his forehead down to yours before sliding his hand to your hip. Gripping your skin, he’s sure to leave tiny bruises with how rough he holds on.

But you don’t care. You love when he loses control.

His heated breath ghosts down your features as he rolls in exaggerated thrusts, and his heavy hums clue you in to his own chase.

“You, too?”

“Ye... Yeah,” he grunts, voice high in pitch.

“Good. You’re so hot when you come.”

Your praise coaxes a whine from him before his motions became unpredictable and erratic.

There it is. He’s so close. Just one more push.

Abandoning your squelching sex, you suddenly use both hands to claw at the rippling muscles of his back. Angry red scratches tear through his nearly-unmarked skin—the only other scars from more passionate ones you inflicted before.

A strangled groan empties out above you, and his mouth flops open in unhinged desire. Darkened, blown out orbs bury into your sweaty face, and you squint to fire heavy lust in retaliation.

Contained energy threatens to burst inside of you. Another high in plain sight. Tugging at Jungkook’s long, wet locks, you shove his mouth onto your ravenous lips, impaling him with your furious tongue.

His breath shoots out between your fervent demands, “Gonna. Gonna come.”

“Do it, baby.”

With the next thrust, you’re pulled under instead, tumbling under the currents of your orgasm and spiraling out of control. Your boyfriend follows close behind, and you can feel him twitch furiously inside of your walls.

The moment only lasts mere seconds, but you feel afloat for much longer, your body wracked with release. Words of affection tumble onto your heaving chest before Jungkook slides out of your exhausted core, and his body dumps into an exhaustive heap right next to you.

Always a new and ethereal experience with him. You can’t explain how beautiful it feels to have him in your arms when you come, or when he reaches his own high.

In a way, you could say it’s touching. Laced with enchantment. Something deeper than love, if that were even possible.

But there aren’t any words in existence that can describe the feeling, so you only settle with conveying how you feel in your actions.

Lightly raking your hands through his sweaty hair, you smile before kissing the tip of his nose, nuzzling it before thumping your head back onto the comforter.

“We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his body not conveying the same willingness.

And you can’t blame him: your own limbs didn’t feel adequately attached to the rest of your body. You’re essentially strewn about the bed in parts yourself.

“How are your arms,” you grunt, struggling in your quest to achieve a sitting position.

Your boyfriend nudges your back with his floppy hair, helping you straighten in the most adorable way possible. “They’re okay. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Sliding off the bed, your entire body feels like gelatin for bones, Jungkook jutting an inked arm out to steady your wobbling.

A giggle punctuates his inquiry. “That bad, huh?”  

“Shut up. This is your fault.”

“Nu uh.” Standing and guiding your fawn-like feet to the bathroom, Jungkook counters, “I wasn’t the one hauling ass down four flights of stairs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you lost.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

As you both go through your clean up and bedtime routines, the light banter continues. It quickly transforms into delirium from being the dark early hours of morning, nonsensical quirks and giggles puncturing the apartment walls.

When you’re settled back into your bed, you curl your body into his. But you still aren’t quite comfortable: throughout your small time in the bathroom, your feet somehow managed to freeze over again. Seeking immediate thawing procedures, you slot them between Jungkook’s legs.

“Hell no!” He wiggles rapidly and attempts to run from your iced extremities, whining when your toes chase him down under the sheets. “So damn cold!”

“I’m trying to get warm!”

“Damn it... You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” you hum, your face smug.

Even with his protests, your boyfriend clamps his limbs around your feet to give them heat.

Silence settles like a light dust over your bodies. Heavy with contemplation and satisfaction, Jungkook quietly slings an arm over your body to pull you closer. Though he absolutely doesn’t need to keep his voice low, he whispers to your forehead,

“Thank you for the date tonight.”

Heart fluttering, you nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you for joining me. Sorry for ruining your rank.”

“Fuck my rank,” he huffs with a hint of mirth. “This was the most fun I’ve had in months. It made me even more sure of…”

Huh?

Of what?

Confused, you tilt your head within your small space. “More sure of...?”

“Umm.”

Feeling his hold tighten around you, you aren’t positive if you felt a slight shake of his fingers or not.

A slight, prickling feeling skittered over your skin, goosebumps flaring like your heart knew what he was going to say without him uttering a word.

“I was gonna save this for a better time, but, uhm.” He pauses, a million moments in between. “I just know I wanna marry you.”

Oh.

You still—only for a small beat—before relief bubbles from your throat.

When Jungkook regards you with a confused face, you breathily respond, “Is that what you’ve been wanting to tell me this whole time? I thought that was already the plan, silly.”

“Really?” Solace floods his features, and you can’t for the life of you understand how he didn’t get that impression before.

Does he really not know how incredibly and unabashedly threaded he has you around his tattooed finger? Who the hell else would you stand out in that weather for more than a millisecond for? For who else would you traverse the galaxies if he ever lost his way—tearing through planets just to find him and bring him home?

“Yes, really,” you giggle, wetting your lips before capturing his. “Just let me know the date and time and I’ll show up.”

Chuckling, he presses a tender kiss to your nose before padding around for his phone. His curious, determined face illuminates like a single star, and you fill the bed with mirth when he ponders aloud,

“Then when’s the next meteor shower?”

-

-

-

end.

-

A/N: YAAAAY if you made it to the end, welcome!! thank you so much for the support and always feel free to let me know what you thought. this is a revamped version and i am way more happier with this result, so if you’ve read both, thank you twice :D as for more jungkook content: it is coming!! got wips in the works and should be putting out updates/teasers soon. of course, any feedback will definitely be appreciated. my ask box is always open<3 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[britcision]

So I made it 4 years without being struck down by AO3 Author Curse! But here we are. I’ll spare y’all the details but let’s just say “fuck this year” and leave it there. We’ve had the requisite Third Bad Thing and I will burn the universe down if it goes for a fourth

What this means for y’all, of course, is that there’s been a long ass break between last chapter and this one! Aaaaand this one is being broken in half because it is Longer Than Tumblr Allows

(And they’ve lessened how many paragraph breaks you get cuz this one is only about 9.5k and it made me add it in thirds, woe is me)

So, as usual, links to the first chapter, last chapter, and the link to the AO3 version is I think in BOTH, so if you can’t find it from there I can’t help you 😁

First Chapter:

Last Chapter:

And just a little recap where last we left off:

Bruce has gone to the Watchtower to debrief the Justice League about Amity Park and the Anti Ecto Acts, and been told that Jason has left the land of the living! But like, on purpose

Jason and Danny have gone to visit Frostbite and learned that they are ghost-bonded, which you should take seriously like being ghost-married, and that Jason is gonna pop out Pitty in a couple more days/weeks and have to emotionally raise a ghost-baby

Tucker, Tim, and Conner are all playing video games and hiding out from the Amity Parker/Bat Chat for Tim and Tucker’s mutual stalking ways, which Sam blew wide open by sharing Timblr, as punishment for Tucker not telling her they were all alive

(Danny’s off the hook cuz Tucker was haunting his phone with soundtracks for half the day)

And Damian’s off being Sketchy And Mysterious

————————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 1)

The evening was beginning to draw in, the sun getting low over Gotham city. Between her patrol the night before, helping Signal out with a case, and then that brief group heart attack about Jason, it had already been a really long day.

Spoiler cracked her neck a couple times and sighed, then sunk into the shadow behind a gargoyle.

It was smaller than usual… and occupied. Robin glowered up at her, leaping up to sit on the gargoyle’s head instead. He looked for all the world like he wanted to hiss at her like a cranky cat, which diffused all of Spoiler’s tension (but would only make his worse if she mentioned it. Maybe tomorrow).

Sighing philosophically she settled back against the base of the gargoyle, tipping her head back to see him.

“Hey… what are you doing out so early? Usually you lot wait until sundown to swing from the shadows,” she pointed out (rather fairly, she thought). Totally ignoring that she was 1000% usually one of “you lot”.

Robin just scowled disdainfully down at her, then twisted his head away to glare at the city instead.

“As if I needed any more reason to be out than you do,” he sniffed archly.

Spoiler grinned, puffing herself up. She did have an answer for this one, and, being generous or not, winding Robin up was always a treat.

“Hey, I was actually requested today. Signal needed a second pair of eyes on the back door of a bust. Didn’t see you there,” she added innocently, a brow rising.

It was technically possible that Robin could have suited up and left the manor in between Bruce’s message and Tim’s response. Spoiler wouldn’t put money on it though.

He’d have had to be on his way down already, and while they could all change quickly, there were no rushed or sloppy patches to her experienced eye.

His hair was even neatly slicked back into the traditional Robin spikes, one every Robin but her and Duke had used during their time as the baby bird.

Nah, he’d not rushed out in a panic, even if he was still more tense than he should have been. Every line of the kid was tight with… Spoiler cocked her head thoughtfully.

Frustration?

Definitely not unusual, Damian didn’t have Dick’s temper but he’d spent pretty much all of his first few years in Gotham unbearably frustrated with them all. It had just been a while since she’d seen it so… visibly.

And for all Steph was a gleeful little shit and loved poking at trouble, she wasn’t cruel. There was no point in pushing Robin if he was already on edge.

So she shrugged nonchalantly and looked forward instead, reaching back over her head to pat him gently on the foot. He didn’t dodge, which only cemented her decision.

“‘Course, no rule against taking a daylight run if you’re in the mood. See anything interesting?” She asked innocently.

Kid wouldn’t admit it if he had been worrying.

Silence reigned for another long moment, and then Robin huffed and dropped down to the rooftop beside her, folding himself back into the sharper shadow the waning daylight provided.

“No.” Short and sweet, unlike the kid himself.

But he also hadn’t left, and Spoiler was gonna call that a win.

“Will you be out tonight too?” She asked instead of pushing, reminding herself yet again; he’d open up in his own time.

Hypothetically.

Robin made a soft, disgusted noise, glowering at the smog filled sky. Probably even in the right direction for the Watchtower.

“I intend to be. Someone must keep an eye on things,” he grumbled, and Spoiler made an effort not to take it personally.

B had been majorly distracted with all this Amity Park business, not even breathing down their necks about the usual nightly reports. The rogues hadn’t exactly noticed yet, but the goons had.

The big Bat himself not making an appearance for a couple of nights usually attracted some comment, and an up-til-now entirely Bat-free new year?

The guys she’d helped Signal grab today had been muttering about it right until they ran into her arms. Fists.

They’d mentioned not seeing Stabby Robin either though.

Which she might as well also mention.

“Weren’t you out last night too? I saw your gear missing when I dropped by at the end of the night,” she added when he tensed again, hands wedged in her utility belt. “Didn’t hear you on comms though.”

And that was more than just rude; it was bad protocol, and Robin, for all his other faults, respected the strictness of protocol. Not being chatty was one thing, but if you were out on the town you had to call in.

He stayed silent, not looking at her. Spoiler decided he could use just a little nudge. Totally not because she was getting impatient. And nosy.

“Y’know unless you went out tech free I can just ask Oracle,” she pointed out gently, giving his shoulder a gentle bump.

It got him to glower up at her anyway.

“I was not on patrol,” he grumbled, whites of his mask narrowed before returning his glare to the city at large, “like I am not today.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Spoiler flipped a mental coin. Figured why not; they were already doing well.

Kid must be on the verge of having to, dread the thought, ask for help.

“And what would you be doing out and about if not patrolling…” she began, then stopped when a piece clicked suddenly into place.

Robin, Damian, was about as social as a feral cat. And about as friendly with anyone who got close to those he considered his.

Right now, Danny Fenton and his friends had more than half the family utterly wound up. All except Bruce in a good way, Spoiler was the first to admit, but Robin wouldn’t see it like that.

The only trick was, how to word the question.

Spoiler liked blunt. It made her stand out from the bats, who all played way too much mental and emotional chicken to be healthy. She’d always been more of a bird that way.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Hood’s little disappearance today, would it?” She asked instead, grinning broadly when Robin twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

From the scowl he shot her he knew it too, and looked away quickly enough that he knew there was no taking it back. He folded his arms across his chest and sulked and fuck he was just adorable.

She’d bet anything Dick used to pout exactly like that.

Still, she tempered the grin down to a slight smile. Dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and letting go when he pulled away.

“Worried me too. Were you close enough to see anything?” Because yeah, if Robin was already at least on his way into uniform before the message arrived?

Spoiler would put easy, easy money on him having been already tailing Jason and Danny around. Last night too, probably. She and Cass had left early to take the night shift, leaving Tim and Damian with the Amity Parkers.

Damian had one hell of a dose of his father’s paranoia, and Steph considered it a solemn duty to teach him about personal boundaries to keep him from turning out just like the old bat.

Just a little friendly stalking from the rooftops didn’t really count though. Not between family.

Robin had tensed right up again too, but when she didn’t push the contact or needle at him he slowly relaxed back down. Scowled at her feet instead of his own.

“No,” he admitted bitterly, both at definitely having been busted and probably at having nothing to report, “Todd… Hood spoke to the magician. They argued, he went back inside Freeze’s place and did not reappear when his tracker went through the roof and into the sky.”

Spoiler blinked, mildly surprised.

“Hood was wearing a tracker? Didn’t think he was in the mood.”

“He wasn’t,” Robin corrected with a derisive sniff.

And… yeah, they were gonna have to do a little more work on that whole “boundaries” thing. Although the odds of Hood not noticing that he’d been tagged were lower than Robin probably thought. Keeping a tag on him that he didn’t want there?

Nah. She may not exactly trust Jason, but that was how she knew how good he was at finding and disabling rogue trackers. And sure, Damian was better than her at some things, but if Cass couldn’t sneak a tracker onto Red Hood no one could.

Kinda cute that Jason let the little guy think he’d successfully bugged him.

At least the constant mild stalking was just standard for the family.

Shaking her head, she gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“That’s rough. Flying’s cheating,” she commiserated with a sly look to the sky.

She’d heard a super cross Oracle’s radar. Conner, almost certainly if Robin was still out alone.

Too bad he’d not thought to call his own Superboy, though taking flight himself wouldn’t have helped if dimensional travel followed.

Robin made another disgusted little tut, then pushed off the gargoyle and stormed away. Spoiler watched him go for a moment, then shrugged.

“Hey, go get some sleep if you’re coming back out tonight,” she called after him. Grinned when he flipped her off without turning.

If he’d been off stalking Jason and Danny two days in a row, he’d need some rest.

“And don’t forget your report,” she teased and actually laughed when he raised his other hand to flip her off with both before leaping off the edge of the roof, swinging back towards the bat cave.

Stephanie Brown had never been prouder in her life than the first day Damian had said “fuck” in front of his dad. Far be it from her to demand anyone transform into a social butterfly, but she personally was pretty damn sure that nothing was gonna help Damian out of his “raised by assassins” shell than learning some good old fashioned swearwords.

And a little teenaged rebellion. The proudest day was totally gonna be when he finally told his grandfather to fuck off (or any suitable equivalent; Steph wasn’t choosy).

Leaning back into the gargoyle’s shadow, Spoiler surveyed the city below. Technically, she’d been out as long as Damian had; if she wanted to be out tonight she’d need a quick nap too.

Or, more fun, she could nip back to the manor, kidnap Cass, and they could find and bully Tim and Tucker in person. Yeah, that was gonna be it.

**

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep. (Not that he knew much about how that actually felt, at least not when not recovering from serious injury.)

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

Even after three separate courses of Bruce’s bullshit, both directly and through the medium of John fucking Constantine. Not so long ago, Bruce would never even dare call him, much less try and set up a bat cave ambush. That… was probably technically a good sign?

Didn’t feel like one at the moment, but Jason actually felt almost good enough to be charitable with the old bat. A little emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

Jason was self aware enough to admit he’d probably had more than one breakdown owed to him. Maybe not a “take to the bed”, “trip to the sea” full Victorian lady meltdown, but he’d had a whole baby dropped on him. Except somehow worse.

He damn well deserved that freak out, and now that it was over and he’d been given what kinda felt like the ghost equivalent of speed… He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. Which… he should have been doing anyway. At least this part wasn’t solely for his benefit though.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. In this way, even if the Great One is not beside you, all ghosts will know that you are the chosen protector of their King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

“And all the other ghosts can just… see this?” He asked, not really sure what he was hoping to be told.

Frostbite switched from giving Danny a fond smile back to Jason, nodding brightly.

“Oh yes. Ectoplasm is very easily influenced by emotion, and bonds can form quite quickly. I presume you took an oath?” He asked, eyes sparkling in a way that made Jason pretty damn sure he’d met Clockwork.

Which, now that he thought about it…

Jason huffed out another deep breath, running a hand through his hair. As much as John Fucking Constantine specifically could ride a cactus straight to Hell… the guy mighta had the faintest inkling of a point about one thing.

“Yeah… about that.” He pulled a face, gaze tracking away from the others and down to the floor.

Would they think he was a dumbass too? Danny had been there when Clockwork made the offer and he’d been pretty against it, but Jason had thought he understood why.

It hadn’t sounded anything like Constantine’s claims of what he’d signed up for.

In the end, it was easier to address the question to Frostbite’s large hairy toes.

“I, uh… I made an oath to Clockwork, but do I have… a contract or something? The asshole magician I mentioned earlier was going on and on about eternal fucking servitude bullshit but it’d be nice to have something to shove in his face,” he added quickly, arm slipping back and almost around Danny (but with his hand still firmly on the table).

He didn’t need to wait to feel the guilt in Danny’s aura to head it off.

Jason wasn’t having second thoughts. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d signed up for, and when it came right down to it…

He didn’t think people could lie through their auras. Even when he was trying to project something like “I’m fine” and he wasn’t, he was pretty sure Danny could tell.

He could sure as hell tell when Danny was bluffing through his, which had happened maybe once total.

He trusted Danny. He trusted Frostbite. He even mostly trusted Clockwork, because for all the guy had been a little sketchy, Jason had felt his sincerity. How deeply he cared for Danny.

Keeping Danny safe forever didn’t sound like eternal servitude. Eternal babysitting, maybe, if Danny was being a pain in the ass, but he’d never top Damian at his most bratty.

Jason woulda been trying to protect Danny anyway. As far as he knew, knighthood just made that easier.

Which was another reason he’d like a look at his contract. You didn’t make it onto the streets as Robin without learning to read for loopholes, hidden clauses, and fine print. He may have already signed on the dotted line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some wiggle room.

Danny, about to say something either apologetic or self deprecating, huffed out a breath as Jason’s arm slipped around him. Winded up giving him a half smile instead.

“Yeah… that’s a good point. I still need to find out if I can fire your ass.”

“Still didn’t hire me,” Jason pointed out archly, bumping his arm to knock Danny forwards a little.

The other halfa huffed a laugh this time and bumped him back.

“Yeah, and I gotta work out how to hire you so I can then immediately fire you,” he shot back.

Frostbite cut them both off with a raised hand, though he still looked fondly amused. Like they were cute little kids or something stupid.

“You will have to discuss this with Clockwork directly, young knight, but I do not believe a knighthood typically comes with a contract. It is a duty one is granted, and one that may be rescinded if you fail, but it is not a deal,” he explained patiently.

Jason’s brows furrowed a little, but at least he could feel Danny’s confusion-puzzled-not sure beside him too. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

Maybe he shoulda looked a little more into magic shit while he was with the League of Assassins. That would have been the time, especially if the Lazarus Pits were the just grunged ectoplasm.

“It kinda sounded like a deal when he offered it,” he said almost as a question, glancing back at Danny for confirmation.

Danny nodded. So it wasn’t just Jason.

“He gave me a cool magic gun in exchange for keeping Danny hale and hearty. Protecting him in the living and Infinite realms,” Jason added in case the wording counted, more sure as he remembered some of the reasons.

Fuck, had that only been a week ago? It felt like it’d been a whole year.

Frostbite gave them a neutral shrug, inclining his head.

“As I said, you will need to ask Clockwork directly. All I can tell you is that it is not innate to the position; a knighthood is not usually something bought and sold,” he explained patiently.

Danny hummed an agreement, cheek resting on Jason’s shoulder again.

“It’s normally all ghost-to-ghost too, so is there a way we can check if the halfa thing has changed it?” He asked Frostbite, leaning against the table too and totally not actually putting his arm around Jason back.

Jason felt a little more tension leech back out of him. Which raised another good point, actually.

“And not related or anything, but if you gave me a buncha those ice crystals could I just chew them to get the ecto for…” he hesitated, waving his free hand at his general chest area again.

Honestly, given half a chance he’d love to get a bowl full and try and pop the pit out in one go… it’d probably be easier to train from outside his body where it wouldn’t immediately know he was so full of shit… his own aura notwithstanding.

Yeah, he was still a little worried about being anyone’s emotional guide, but if he could just get the damn thing out in the world… maybe it could have other guides too.

“To answer the simpler question first, young knight, unfortunately the energized ectoplasm is only a short term boost and will not affect either of your cores. I will provide you with a small supply to assist your emotional control whilst you stabilize, if you wish?” Frostbite offered gently, a slight smile on his face.

Jason hesitated, considering things for a moment, then nodded. Sure, it wasn’t a solid “yes here is the answer to all your problems Jason just smack it in”, but it was a concrete solution to what had actually been worrying him.

Having another one of those weird “episodes”. He’d still be waiting to get Pitty all the way out, but at least he had a backup plan until then. He could pop an ecto-crystal each morning, get some energy, and worry less about night patrols.

Shit, he’d have more energy than he’d had since he died. The others were gonna be jealous as hell, but it wasn’t like they could steal and take his ghost meds. Probably.

Jason… wasn’t quite ready to think about the panic attack itself. He felt fine now, way better, and it wasn’t like it was the first he’d had.

Just…

Just the first that he remembered. That his heart started racing, his head rushing, ears filled with rushing static and the world hadn’t just melted into a green haze of blood and violence.

His early training with the League of Assassins had involved a lot of losing himself to the Pit. He’d wake up days later, body aching with exertions he couldn’t remember, and be told how many he’d killed.

Good news: no fear of that either, apparently. Pitty wasn’t pulling for control anymore, so the green haze was all Jason’s own.

Joy.

He had a nasty feeling that Danny would notice him spiralling from anywhere in Gotham. And probably ditch class to come check on him.

Like Hell. Jason’d fucking call Harley first, put himself through some breathing exercises or whatever, he did not need an emotional support Ghost King.

He gave Frostbite a quick nod, a small smile forming almost without thinking about it. The yeti was just… so caring and helpful. Not exactly something Jason had a wealth of experience with. He’d probably be a great example for Pitty.

Frostbite returned the smile, making a quick note on his tablet.

“And of course, your ghostly parent or a mentor should also be able to assist you. Spending time with those who are important to you, especially a comforting figure will help both your control and your core formation,” the yeti added in a slightly pointed way, like he’d read Jason’s mind, and Jason had to stifle a laugh.

Frostbite might be an eight foot tall hairy yeti, but he’d get along with Alfred like a house on fire… he was even as stubborn about not using their names as Alfred was about nicknames.

And when Jason thought about someone comforting, the beacon of emotional maturity and constraint… it could only be Alfred. He was more grandparent than parent, but certainly the only mentor Jason still looked up to. And a paragon of control besides.

Alfred could help him with Pitty. Model a little actual emotional restraint and control for the both of them. The only question was if Jason could just be up front and ask him, possibly revealing the secret early, or if he’d have to come up with an excuse for them to hang out.

Stupid thought. Jason knew damn well he could just walk into the kitchen and Alfred would be more than happy to spend time together. He wouldn’t need a ruse; he wouldn’t even need an excuse.

The knowledge settled warm and soft and happy inside him, until his brain caught up with his ears and stopped him short.

Wait.

“Ghost parent?” He asked cautiously, looking from Frostbite to Danny again. Danny pulled a face but Frostbite beat him to the punch.

“Ah, yes. We did not discuss that last time either. Your ghost parent, young knight, is the second strongest bond a young ghost can have. They are the ghost who welcomes you into the Infinite Realms, who will guide your steps and protect you until your own haunt has formed.”

Brows furrowing, Jason twisted to frown more directly at Danny, not quite sure if he was looking for confirmation or asking a question of his own.

Cuz, y’know, other than the whole “protecting until his haunt formed” (and Jason certainly didn’t need protecting), that sounded a lot like what Danny had been doing. Which would totally make it weird if Jason was a knight to his own ghost-dad.

Clearly following the same lines, Danny raised both hands and shook his head, almost but not quite stepping out of reach.

“Oh no, it’s not me. You’ve had a ghost parent long before I came along,” he said emphatically, the sudden panic on his face making Jason feel better about his own response to surprise parenthood.

He magnanimously decided not to tease Danny about it, turning instead to give Frostbite a questioning look.

“Should I know who my ghost parent is? Who gets to decide?” He asked cautiously. He’d never met another ghost before Danny, but he had this awful sinking feeling that Ra’s al Ghul might have more to do with the realms than just the pits, and he was the closest proxy. Even Tallia would be better. Maybe even Bruce.

Reading his tension, Frostbite clapped a massive furry hand on Jason’s shoulder, smile and aura both full of comfort-reassurance-calm.

“Normally yes young knight, though yours is a special case. Usually when a young ghost first finds its way to the realms, one of the first ghosts they encounter will take them under their wing. It is an honour to care for a young ghost, and a halfa even more so,” he explained gently.

Beside Jason, Danny snorted loudly.

“Oh, yeah, they totally come running to play happy families. Super wholesome,” he grumbled, arms folded as he leaned back into Jason’s weight.

Honestly, Jason could kinda spot common threads between what Frostbite just said and what Danny had told him about Fight Club; the play fighting was supposed to be about sharing powers, right? Just, y’know, between people with shit verbal communication to actually check in that everyone was on the same page.

The yeti sighed fondly, his hand moving from Jason’s shoulder to rest proudly on Danny’s. Given the width of Danny’s shoulders respective to the hand, the last two fingers were back on Jason’s other shoulder.

“Again, Great One, your circumstances were also exceptional. You did not explore the Ghost Zone until after you had established yourself to many as a competent fighter and protector of your haunt, which along with certain… adventures led most to believe you were far older than you are,” Frostbite explained patiently, with just the faintest hint that they’d been through this before.

Danny rolled his eyes and shot Jason double finger guns.

“Yyyyup, which is why I don’t have to deal with any of this “ghost parent” business,” he agreed brightly, tipping Jason a smirk, “get good.”

Jason flipped him off, but there was something… not in his aura, Frostbite’s was still very carefully toned back all calm medical professional, but in the creasing of the yeti’s eyes. Now, ghost yetis were definitely a new species and Batman drilled them all on the dangers of extrapolating body language on new species, but Jason had done his time on alien planets.

Something in the change, something in the shift, a little quirk of the brow Jason had noted when the yeti was amused. There was something funny here, and it wasn’t Danny’s quip.

Putting his suspicions aside for now, Jason settled on the more pressing matter.

“So who is my ghost parent? When do I get to meet them?” He asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t accidentally imprinted on Ra’s or Tallia. Cuz he hadn’t been in the Zone before Danny either.

Danny himself, much less concerned, waved a hand vaguely.

“Oh, we’ll deal with that on the way home. Go do a proper meet and greet, that sort of thing,” he said nonchalantly, and Jason’s shoulders settled a little.

“They’re in the Zone then?” He prodded a little further, not fully willing to let the matter just drop. If he had to ghost-emancipate himself, he’d rather be ready sooner than later.

Danny grinned toothily at him.

“Usually. We’ll see if she’s around, but it might have to be another day. Gotta deal with our other list first, like if our whole halfa deal is gonna do anything to the knight thing, or your core coming in,” he added, looking expectantly at Frostbite.

Jason almost missed what he said next as his heart skipped a beat, a possibility he’d never even considered slamming home.

She.

Someone dead, if they were in the Ghost Zone.

Someone who’d claimed him as her son long ago, guided him as best she could. Someone he’d never expected to see again, not even having died and returned to life himself.

No chance, he told himself quickly, hurriedly refocusing on the conversation at hand. About his bond with Danny, about their shared fucked biology, about his whole undead future.

There was no point dredging up the past until he actually knew.

Frostbite was back in his familiar role of teacher, that same proud/warm/fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked at Danny.

“For your bond, Great One, I am not sure what I would even test for. The young knight presently has no ghost form, yet the bond is present exactly as if he had. I am afraid we have no records of former halfas, so any problems which occurred before are long lost.”

The yeti gave the tablet another few careful claw strokes, pulling up lines and lines of scrolling numbers and data beside each of their silhouettes on the wall screen. Forcing himself to the present, Jason scanned them quickly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t actually make heads or tails of it; ghost vitals couldn’t really include things like heartbeat, blood oxygenation, or anything they’d test for in the med bay.

Not until Bruce found out about all this crap anyway - Jason wouldn’t put it past him to try and buy out everything the Far Frozen had in his latest snit of paranoia. The second he got over his “oh no Jason is going somewhere I can’t supervise him”, obviously.

Frostbite clearly knew what it all meant though, highlighting a couple of different areas where Danny’s numbers were very different from Jason’s and giving him that reassuring smile.

“After your first transformation I would expect some of these to change, and it is likely that any differences in your particular bond would show then as well. Your ghost form will of course be entirely ectoplasmic, so the bond will be more present than it is even now.”

That snapped Jason from his internal flailing, and he grimaced at the reminder.

Because… yeah. They’d talked a lot about his first transformation, he and Danny. But the only thing Danny hadn’t really known was when to expect it.

“Yeah… about that. I know the basics, inversion of my moment of death crap, I’ll be able to change it eventually, yadda yadda,” and that was its own sword of Damacles hanging with the mistletoe, “but… when will it happen? Like, will it just… happen? Or will I… yeah.”

Even wording the question made him feel like the whole thing was just too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask; what to look for? Would there be symptoms? Would he just un-die again in the street?

Luckily Frostbite seemed much more comfortable, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. Jason’s scan took over the full screen once more, zoomed in on the two orbs in his chest.

They were pulsing too, growing brighter and dimmer along with the more defined throb of the ectoplasm. Which was actually when he noticed that both cores were throbbing, so… was Pitty also a knight?

That was going on the list of questions for Clockwork like, yesterday. If he could get it its own little fear gun…

“As you can see, your core is still fuzzy around the edges and incompletely formed; once these edges have smoothed out, you will hypothetically be able to transform at any time,” Frostbite explained, blissfully aware of Jason’s new train of thought.

Probably for the best. Jason reluctantly refocused on the screen, tabling the idea of Sir Pitty for now. Nice to have something actually positive to look forward to.

He didn’t really remember seeing much of the screen during his last appointment, but he had seen the perfect sphere of Danny’s core, and his looked… well, like Frostbite said, smaller and kinda fuzzy. Like a ball of dough after it started sticking to your hands and losing its shape.

He frowned and nodded, looking back to Frostbite and then glancing around at Danny.

“So not until the next appointment, probably? Will it just… happen out of nowhere? Or will I need to trigger it?” It kinda helped, narrowing the scope. Dealing with it one step at a time.

Danny gave a helpless shrug.

“My powers started activating randomly, but I didn’t actually transform until I was in danger. Not like, life threatening danger,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like he’d heard Pitty’s growl… or maybe Jason had echoed it. “It was just Lunch Lady, she was never gonna really hurt us. She just made a mess and tried to feed everyone meat.”

Jason privately added Lunch Lady to his “asses to kick” list. On principle.

Frostbite gave a thoughtful nod, a large hand clapping down on Jason’s shoulder a lot harder than he’d probably intended. He didn’t flinch, but before his pit-growth-spurt it might have knocked him over.

“We can experiment more once your core is complete here in the Zone, and I would recommend waiting until Pitty has been expelled, if possible. Of course, any other changes in your knighthood bond will likely make themselves known with your first change as well,” the yeti mused, quite pleased with the idea.

Jason hesitated before agreeing, worry twisting through him again before he tamped it back down.

He wasn’t that scared little boy anymore; not inside. Besides, the bond was already firmly in place.

His soul was resonating a pace behind Danny’s.

It wasn’t like that little trip back to the moment of his death was gonna make Danny suddenly reject him.

The poor guy was probably stuck with Jason for life anyway at this point, which for a pair of halfas meant pretty much forever.

**

There was not a single thing on Earth or the Watchtower that he wanted less than to stop and talk to John Fucking Constantine and Diana after the meeting.

To be completely fair, Constantine clearly didn’t want to have that conversation any more either; Bruce had not been wrong about how well the magician would take the news that the United States had declared war on an entire dimension.

He was visibly green, had actually ground an unlit cigarette into a grainy mess against the table in lieu of lighting up, and looked about ready to lick up the tobacco.

Diana did not look happy either, but she never had. Her face was as stony and grave as Bruce had ever seen it, concern writ large even as she caught his eye.

The sure knowledge that her lasso would follow if he tried to leave was the only thing that kept him from ignoring her.

But since the only thing he wanted in the world at this moment was to have his son in his arms, and there was no chance of that happening until they were in the same dimension once more…

Bruce shot a quick, questioning look at Clark as the traitor made his way to the exit along with the rest of the Justice League. The Kryptonian at least had the grace to look a little guilty as he shook his head, stepping quickly out the door.

Wonder Woman hadn’t specifically told everyone else to get the fuck out. She had simply molded herself into an immovable force, concluded the meeting, and instructed Bruce alone to remain and discuss these… complications.

Bruce considered making an argument for Superman’s inclusion. They were the original three, and they’d probably need at least his and Aquaman’s help to handle the diplomatic situation.

Possibly the Oa, and Bruce was quite sure Green Lantern wasn’t looking forward to that possibility any more than he was. Hal Jordan talked a good game, always far too flippant, but he’d been pale enough by the end of the lecture that his suit made him look frankly unwell.

Unpleasant times would be in all of their futures it seemed. It was no real comfort as he slipped into a seat across from Wonder Woman and the slumped form of John Constantine.

The magician didn’t even look up, but clearly noticed.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think anyone’d fuck this up worse’n you, Bats,” he groaned, face still pressed into the table.

Bruce grunted, uninterested in his judgement.

“There are new complications we should focus on.” A vain hope, and one Diana instantly crushed.

“One that makes the contents of our discussion all the more vital,” she corrected sharply, piercing blue eyes narrowed as she watched his face. “It seems we have already caused unintentional offence.”

Which was an extremely light way to phrase the declared genocide, but Bruce didn’t bother arguing that position. Not when Constantine would do it for him.

But the mage just let out a long, hearty groan.

“Offence. Yeah. Maybe if we saw off the United States and toss it through a portal the rest of us will be fine,” he snarked, raising his head just enough to bang it off the table. Repeatedly.

By the third bang Diana gripped the back of his head, holding him in place against the table.

“Whatever the situation,” she growled, her tone daring either of them to comment, “we must deal with it as it is. You believe we would have noticed any countermeasures from the former Ghost King?”

She released her grip a moment later, and Constantine rolled his head just enough to glare at her through one eye.

“Pariah Dark? Sister, it wouldn’ta been a single town bein’ pulled off the map. We’d have lost the continent, and probably the world. You wouldn’t miss it,” he added with a bitter laugh, clearly considering banging his head off the table again.

Diana placed a hand on the table. Constantine set his head back down gently.

“And the new king?” She prodded, all icy control.

Bruce had to admit, even he felt calmer watching her.

He knew all the follies and foibles of gods, had no delusions about the limits of her power. He also knew her strengths. Her wisdom. Her ability to cut through complex issues with sword or words.

Whatever he missed, she was removed enough from this mess to catch.

Constantine shrugged, still not rising.

“No fuckin’ clue. All I know is they’re better’n Pariah, which is the lowest damn bar I ever saw. They call them Balance, and we’re not gonna fuckin’ like when the scales come due.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. What could be a sufficient counterweight for demanding a whole people be hunted and experimented on until extinction?

The dead always vastly outnumbered the living.

Diana cut across his thoughts, her tone as sharp as her blade.

“So you believe we’d notice.”

Constantine sighed heavily and flopped back in his seat hard enough that he nearly toppled over. Diana steadied the chair with one hand, eyebrow rising archly.

Constantine stopped flailing, went to fold his arms, and instead stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Probably’d be pretty hard to miss too,” he agreed gruffly. Diana nodded, having received the answer she wanted, and interlaced her fingers.

“Then we have time to rectify matters before word reaches his ears.” She paused, brow furrowing as she recounted John’s words. “Do we not know if the King is a man?”

Constantine shrugged again, pulling something unidentifiable from his pocket before hastily shoving it back in, coming out again with a lighter. He spun it between his fingers, eyes fixed on the metal lid.

“Nah. “King” is just a loose translation to living tongues, for what yer used to. Easier to say than “Supreme High Ruler, Core of the Realms”. Not even likely that they were ever human; not even the Ancients could take Pariah solo to take the crown, so a human ghost wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Huffing out a mighty breath, Constantine looked from the lighter to Bruce, his gaze somehow immeasurably more tired. Bruce had imagined that talking about Amity Park made the man look ancient.

He looked haggard enough to be an ancient ghost himself now.

Raising his other hand, he began counting off points on his fingers.

“We know they’re young. Everything agrees on that. Could be any time in the past few centuries, but it’s still a timeline. We know they’re tougher’n Hell and all its demons put together, cuz they put Pariah down single handed. Had to to get the throne. Might not have Ended him, the Casket of Eternal Slumber’s not turned up looking for a new occupant.”

The magician stared at his two fingers for a moment, then sighed and raised a third.

“And we know ghosts like them. They’re less scared, though most of ‘em never knew shit about Pariah. Didn’t even react to him waking, which had to happen for the change in power. That or it all went down too fast for the shockwaves to reach us here; not bloody likely. Wouldn’t take more than a day, and ghosts fight for decades on a whim.”

He hesitated for a moment, considering that last finger. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Can’t rule it out though. Pariah waking up’d be as much an emergency for them as it’d be for us, putting his ass back down is an all hands on deck situation on either side of the veil. If this new king is Balance, Pariah’d be their opposite,” he finished gruffly, glaring at all three digits before stuffing both hands into his pockets.

Bruce nodded, drawing a deep, calming breath in through his nose and then out through his mouth. Even this much discussion had something itching in the back of his mind, a building tension that he had to Get Away.

He was in control of it though. Could tell the difference between his own unease and the burning ember of the oath.

Turn and run right away his ass. Magic could never hold out against cool, calm logic.

“And this new king, Balance, has stamped a damn mark on Jason.”

And his breath hitched.

Sharp, white hot panic flared behind his eyes, every muscle clenching with the effort of not leaping straight from the table. The only reason he didn’t was because he had no idea where to go.

What would he even do? Run to Jason’s side? The boy was in another dimension, far beyond Bruce’s reach.

Again.

He was losing Jason again. Losing him to this Ghost King, this Balance, this-

Diana’s hand clamped firmly over his, the amazon’s grip immovable steel. Bruce felt his bones grinding together before he even noticed he’d stopped breathing, before he managed to look up enough to meet her eyes.

Stern, determined, brilliant blue locked with his. Her grip tightened a little further, the ribbing on his gloves creaking with the pressure.

She wouldn’t break them… probably. They were designed to hold up against any of the supers the League dealt with. Prolonged contact was another thing entirely though.

His attention now locked on her face, Bruce managed a deep breath in along with her. Held it when she did. Let it out.

She didn’t release him for another few repetitions, until he was breathing mostly on his own again. Then she returned her attention to Constantine.

“What.” It wasn’t aggressive. Just a completely flat, completely toneless statement.

Constantine gave her an entirely hopeless smile, pulling his hands from his pockets to give her jazz hands.

“And that’s what he’s not ready to hear yet. Your boy, Jason, Red Hood, has gotten himself personally warded by the Ghost King. He’s the next thing to invulnerable right now,” he added bitterly, as if that made any of it better.

An icy hand clenched in Bruce’s chest again, but he forced himself to still. To breathe through it. To not turn and run, run until he found his child and tore him away from whatever influence had him.

The Ghost King had a hold of Jason. Jason who’d all but ordered Bruce to let him go.

“And Jason must have been in direct contact with the King to receive these wards?” Diana asked sharply, and Bruce’s head snapped back to her.

It was a good question. Important, obvious, there was a connection there that he should be making, but he couldn’t think. His head was spinning, heart pounding, and every shadow seemed black as pitch.

Constantine grunted an agreement, shooting Bruce an almost sympathetic look.

Could. Could this be the oath? Not his own instinctive, natural panic?

Bruce couldn’t tell, he’d been so afraid for so long, ever since he held Jason’s broken body in his arms. Ever since he buried his son.

It felt the same. But he had mastered that fear long ago, so this would not control him now. He had to be better.

Frowning at Diana, he leaned forward.

“Explain.” She’d probably assumed that he’d made the same connection. He probably should have.

There was just a brief flash of surprise on her face before her expression softened, her hand gentling over his.

“Jason was the one who told you of these Anti Ecto Acts, was he not?” She asked pointedly, a dark brow arching delicately.

Bruce about managed a grunt of agreement, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak. She waited a moment longer, watching his face, and then sighed.

“Then is it not likely that either he has told Balance of these Acts, or that Balance was the one that told him?”

Constantine jerked and got halfway through a bellowed curse before she cut him off with a glare. Her tone brooked no argument as she continued with a firm, frosted patience.

“Jason is a principled young man, even if not of the exact principles you prefer. Either he has warned you because he believes we have time to fix this, or because the King would prefer we handle it,” she said bluntly.

It sounded so simple, put like that. Far too simple. Bruce shook his head, leaning in.

“We can’t know for sure-”

“Batman.” There was nothing harsh in her tone. Nothing so overtly aggressive as the glare she kept giving Constantine. Just a calm, cool statement that sucked the air from his lungs.

The weight of her own mantle, the Amazon princess who would one day be Queen. Not his friend Diana; Wonder Woman.

Once she was sure he wouldn’t continue, she fixed him with a sapphire stare.

“Do you believe Jason Todd would condone the end of the world?” She asked simply, and that at least was that plain.

“No.” It didn’t even require thought; whatever he feared ever since his son took his first life, Bruce knew that.

Jason was fundamentally a good boy. So kind, so giving, ironically he had been the most well adjusted boy Bruce had ever given the mantle to.

Which was what made what he’d become so painful. It was everything he never should have been.

Wonder Woman nodded as if that solved all the rest.

“And yet you called the meeting, not him. He has known for several days already and did nothing to alert any of us. Therefore, he does not believe this is an urgent threat.”

It sounded good, and Bruce almost believed it before Constantine snorted.

“Yeah, great, except the kid has no fuckin’ clue what he’s dealing with. Didn’t even know he’d been fuckin’ marked or that sellin’ his fuckin’ service was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he coulda done,” he grumbled and Bruce’s heart fell.

Wonder Woman was not so easily swayed. She raised an eyebrow slowly at the magician.

“And could those protective marks have been placed on Jason against his will?” She asked pointedly, like she knew the first thing about magic.

Constantine hesitated. Frowned a little, thinking hard. Finally he threw both hands in the air and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing them down his face.

“Technically, yes, alright? But I can’t think of a damn reason why they’d bother. Like I told the old Bat, it’s technically a good thing; I couldn’t even get a basic diagnostic spell off, he’s completely fuckin’ magic proof an’ anythin’ that can read that ward will run like fuck.”

Something in Bruce’s chest flickered hopefully. Wonder Woman nodded firmly, then redirected her stare to him.

“Then until we have reason not to, we assume that Jason Todd has control of this situation. He has assigned us to deal with these Acts, either before his king discovers them or on their behalf. You, Batman, will defer to his experience along with that of our experts,” she declared with all the ringing command she was capable of.

It chafed. And yet… he could hear the echo of Harley’s words in her voice.

What if Jason was wrong? It was the kind of thing he always thought about, the kind of thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. The kind of thing that had the Batman able to stand and go toe to toe with gods.

But what if Jason was right? What if Harley, Diana, Constantine were right, and his usual measures would spell disaster?

He had a dozen contingency plans that any member of the League could use to take him down. He was painfully aware that the first one, the one he’d already shown to Superman and Wonder Woman, only had two words in it.

Diana’s Judgement.

She hadn’t technically invoked it yet. Had never bothered asking exactly what he meant by it; she wasn’t one to back down from hard subjects, which meant she’d also never bothered hiding how little she thought of his contingency plans.

His League-specific ones, anyway. She liked the ones he had for the rogues and various end of the world crises.

It meant moments like this, where she would give him her honest, simple judgement and reign him in.

(Technically it also meant that he trusted her to decide when she needed to snap his neck, but Martian Manhunter always looked at him with disappointment when he thought about that side too much.)

Looking back to her face, he managed to meet her eyes and nod once. It went against every instinct he had, every year of experience and loss, but…

If he couldn’t do things he didn’t like, he’d never have become Batman.

**

Head spinning with a plethora of new information, bag of ecto candies in hand, Jason deliberately slowed down to let Danny precede him out of Frostbite’s office.

That little suspicion had been growing, kindling the more they discussed halfa anatomy and bonds, and honestly? Yes, he had been using it as an excuse to think about something other than his own problems.

Danny seemed not to notice, disappearing past the doorway as Jason looked up at Frostbite. Figured fuck it; he didn’t know how much time he had. Best be blunt.

“You’re Danny’s ghost parent, aren’t you?” He asked, knowing from the yeti’s face as he did that he was right.

The way it froze for just a moment, eyes flicking to the door Danny had just left through. Then the smile that spread, knowing and secretive as he bent down for the first time to put his face on Jason’s level.

“He takes such pleasure in believing he does not have one; the Great One values his independence highly, and his history with parental figures is… complex. It can be our secret, yes?” The yeti winked.

Jason hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all he knew about Danny’s home life. It wasn’t actually all that much; Danny probably actually knew more about Jason’s, after the last week.

That wasn’t just a rarity, it was practically unheard of for any of the former Robins, and Jason knew exactly how Dick and Harley would react to that information.

They’d accuse him of growth. Gross. They couldn’t be told.

And yeah, maybe Jason had a bit of a personal understanding of why Danny wouldn’t want an overabundance of parental figures around. Their situations weren’t exactly the same, not really, but Jason knew enough verses of the song.

All teen heroes tended to have certain things in common, the biggest of which was whatever parental figure they had failing to protect them. Failing to keep them from the darkness, forcing a kid to take on a mantle and burdens that they never should have.

He’d wanted to pound Bruce’s bones to pulp for putting another kid in his cape. Wound up nearly pounding Tim’s instead, however the pit and Tallia had twisted things to make that seem like the same thing.

And Danny hadn’t just picked up the mantle of Teen Hero. He’d picked up a crown, a whole realm of responsibilities and rulership over the dead.

Personally, Jason thought Danny was missing out on an easy dodge of king duties by not finding his ghost parent; Clockwork was his regent but still apparently bothered him for work.

A parent ruling until the child was of age was behind most of the most brutal regicides in any monarchic system; the dead had to know about it.

But that’d mean Clockwork bothering Frostbite at all hours, possibly. Or Clockwork finding new excuses to keep checking on a crown prince Jason had already seen was a handful.

Yeah, he could see why no one really challenged Danny’s assertion that he didn’t have a ghost parent.

Jason spared a moment wondering about his own again.

He knew better than to hope, he really did. Catherine Todd deserved much better than an afterlife of watching over his many mistakes. If there was any justice to death, she’d moved straight past the realms and into the most perfect of paradises.

He liked to think she’d be proud of him. Of the work he’d done, the good he’d spread through the Alley even if it was on the end of a gun.

So long as it wasn’t any form of al Ghul whatsoever, Jason was pretty sure he could handle any other ghost parent the multiverse could throw at him.

Danny’s head poked back around the corner, grinning in a very worried way between the two of them.

“Everything okay back here?” He asked with some of the worst overhyped cheer Jason had ever heard.

Alright, maybe Danny would actually also have been a problem for ghost parent. Because Jason thought he was hot. Because he was an awful mother hen even as a friend.

Jason raised his bag of ecto candies.

“Just checking how many of these I can safely have in a day,” he said innocently, and kinda hoped Danny didn’t actually feel the wash of Frostbite’s approval as the yeti straightened.

That would give the game away.

“They are not a substitute for sleep or nutrition for your human form,” Frostbite told him, as if that was what they’d been talking about.

Jason sighed heavily, doing his best impression of Tim being handed decaf.

“Listen, a guy can hope?”

“Oh you’re not gonna win that one,” Danny snickered, brightening with the distraction and all but skipping in to take Jason’s arm, “let’s scram before he gets the powerpoints.”

Frostbite gave them a cheerful wave on the way out the door, and Jason managed a mostly sincere smile as Danny began regaling him on some of his teenaged attempts to persuade Frostbite to let him give up sleep for finals week.

Yeah, he might add the Fenton parents to the butt-kicking list. Below the ghosts, obviously, for whom butt-kicking was a social courtesy.

But, y’know. If he ever got the chance to have a quiet word about taking care of your damn kids.

———————

And here we have Part 1! Imma just yeet it up so you can all get started while I edit Part 2, because again, this is a Girthy One without an easier breakpoint 👀

I’ll still try and get Part 2 done tonight, but I’ve kept y’all waiting long enough

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai i @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

Part Two:

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

Just Make it Better｡*.✧

Pairing | Eddie Munson x bartender!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, porn with a fair bit of plot, swearing, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, AU where the pull out method is infallible, he comes on reader but like in a romantic way. 

Word Count | ~4,830

A/N | Eddie: that's what's killing the kids!!! Me, twirling my hair: haha, wow, so true, Eddie.

It was super fun to watch stranger things 4 late and say to myself, wow Eddie is so cute, I wonder if there’s any fics of him, then hop on tumblr and find out he's the internet's latest boyfriend. Happy to be here with you all. 

“Hi, sweet boy,” you coo, squatting down to let the little black and white cat rub his face against your hand. When you place the plate down for him, he lets you keep petting him for a while before he goes for it, as if he knows that’s the price of the food you bring him each night. 

You’ve been affectionately calling him Banjo, after the instrument that was playing in the bar the first time you saw him, when he was all skin and bones. His fur is softer and fuller since you first encountered him mewling by the dumpster behind the Hideout. Steady meals and a little love have brought back his willingness to groom himself. “You’re looking real cute these days, mister.”

“You really know how to make a guy jealous.” You jump at the sudden voice from behind, falling on your ass on the ground beside your stray friend. Banjo, who has become less jumpy the longer you’ve known him, doesn’t even look up from his dinner. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” You yell, pushing yourself up to stand, rubbing your hands on the front of your denim shorts.

You should have known he’d appear. He never let a Tuesday go by without talking to you, but you’d thought you could avoid him today. Banjo was probably here twenty minutes ago, waiting for you, but you kept yourself behind the bar until Eddie and his band were almost finished on the makeshift stage in the corner of the Hideout. You’d thought, foolishly, that he might take the hint and leave before you came back inside. 

If he had, it would have guaranteed you another week of not going home with him.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says in earnest, having the humility to look a little guilty. “Just wondering why the little guy gets all the compliments.”

You don’t answer, embarrassed that Eddie saw you acting like that. All soft for a dumb cat. He might get ideas about the kind of person you are.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Was looking for you. Wanted to tell you the big news,” he grins, widening his arms. “You are looking at a member of the Hawkins High graduating class of 1986. Got the diploma and everything.”

Your look is impassive. “Amazing to think what somebody can achieve in just ten years.”

“Only six, actually,” he corrects, joy unwavering. He watches you pick up Banjo’s plate and give him a couple long strokes down his back, standing to the side to keep the back door open and allow you through. 

“So, what’s next, Eddie? Let me guess. MIT, right?”

It’s mean, you know it is. But you can’t help yourself when it comes to him. 

When you first started working at the Hideout, the Summer after you yourself graduated, you tried keeping him at arm’s length gently. You were all one word answers for a while. But he could deal with that, easily. Half the kids in his club started like that. He’d coaxed every one of them out of their shell, building them up from shy, quiet boys to almost-men willing to stand on a shitty little stage and play their own music in front of a whole room of people who’d maybe rather they weren’t there.

So you’d changed tack. Instead, for the last year, you’ve been trying to beat him away. Trying to make it as clear as possible.

I’m not worth it. I’m not good for you. I won’t ever make you happy. 

The success of this tactic had been hampered, you knew, by the way you let him take you back to his uncle’s trailer every once in a while.

“I’ve got plans,” Eddie’s eyes sparkle, more sure of himself than a new graduate has any right to be.

“And these plans involve continuing to play here every Tuesday,”

“Well, I know you’d miss our little chats,” he says. “Besides, we are technically supposed to get paid for playing here, and I haven’t actually seen Tommy in like two months?” 

You hum. That sounds about right. Tommy had started to make a habit of letting you close up on Tuesdays, especially. “Try letting him smack your ass next time you see him,” you answer. “That usually puts him in a good enough mood to pay properly.” 

Eddie makes a face like he’s considering it. “We’ll maybe make that Plan B.”

That almost earns him a smile, but you push it down. “Great, now, get out from behind the bar.”

Eddie bows his head a little like he’s apologising. He jogs round the bar, hair flying behind him before he settles himself on the stool across from you. 

“Honey?” You glance down the bar at one of the regulars. “Can I get two beers for me and my buddy?”

“Uh-huh, which buddy’s that, Murphy?” He makes a non committal noise, gesturing vaguely behind him. “Yeah, nice try, but we agreed, three tops. This is the last one, then it’s Pepsi for the rest of the night, okay?”

He grunts, but doesn’t complain, just grabbing the open beer you hand him and returning to his place at the edge of the room. 

You glance at Eddie, finding him smiling at you warmly. “So, what did you think of the show?”

You purse you lips, trying to look like you’re really thinking about it. “You certainly make me appreciate the talents of real musicians, Eddie.”

In truth, you admire Eddie and his friends, playing their music every Tuesday for an audience that barely realises they’re there. And it’s good; loud and real and alive. Stuff you’d listen to in the car, if you had one, and if they ever made a real record.

And you like watching him play, especially. Eddie has always had confidence you couldn’t believe, but when he’s got a guitar in his hands it’s like it has somewhere to go. The way he looks with his head thrown back, hair wild about his face. It’s half the reason you tried to avoid him tonight, knowing you were too worked up to say no if he asked to take you back to his.

“Your children are waiting on you,” you tell him, looking pointedly behind him at his bandmates who you know for a fact are too young to be in here. They’re watching both of you with the dumb grins boys get when their friends talk to a girl. God, you can believe he just graduated. This feels exactly like being in high school. 

“I can, uh, give them a ride and come back for you, if you want,” he says, gently, scratching the side of his neck. 

You swallow, knowing exactly what will happen if you let Eddie bring you back to his trailer. You mentally count how long it’s been since you let him touch you. At least a month. Longer, if the warmth between your thighs is any indicator. 

This is the worst part. However you say it, accepting his invitation is telling him that you’re thinking about him, that you want him. 

“Okay,” you say lightly. Looking away from his eyes, so intent on you. 

“Yeah?” He grins, throwing his shoulders back and nodding. “Okay, I will see you at one then.”

You hum, still trying to make it seem like you don’t care either way. When he’s gone, you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and regret. Fuck, why couldn’t you just tell him, once and for all, that you aren’t interested. He’d listen, you know he would. He wouldn’t like it, but if you really told him that you didn’t want to keep doing this, that he should stop talking to you, stop inviting you home, then he would. 

You’re resigned to it, the rest of the night. Even as you’re flipping chairs on top of tables, you’re rehearsing what to say. Listen, I’m just gonna go home, you plan out every word in your head. I don’t think this is going where you want it to, Eddie, and we’ll both be better off if you leave me be from now on.

Only, there he is at the window, smiling and waving at you like an excited boy about to take you to prom. 

He even opens the passenger door of his van for you.

The whole way, he talks at you easily, letting you wallow in silence. He tells you about his final month at high school, the way he’d clawed his way towards a D in English, which surprises you, given how much he reads. 

It’s strange, listening to him talk about something that feels so long ago, now, for you. But you were there, together at one point, even if you never spoke to Eddie at all while you were. Different circles, different friends. Not that any of yours lasted past senior year. Eddie was the only person you talked to from school, these days. 

It has you thinking, what it would have been like if you’d spoken to Eddie, properly, when you were in high school still. What would he have thought of you, if he knew you before life decided things were a little too good and kicked you in the teeth? Would he like you better without the jagged edges? Would you let him be sweet with you, outside of his bed, like he wants to be?

Eddie lets you into his trailer first, directing you straight to his bedroom, as always, after the one time Wayne had come home early. He hadn’t caught you on your knees for Eddie, the way you had been when you heard his car pull up in the middle of the night. But he had caught sight of you disappearing into the bathroom. He had seen Eddie standing there with your bra held behind his back, trying to casually untuck his shirt from his newly pulled up pants to cover the wet patch where you had pressed your mouth over the denim just to see him throw his head back. 

It had taken him two months to get you here again.

“So, they both have girlfriends?” You ask, incredulous, breathing out smoke that already has you a little more relaxed, a little giggly with him. He’s telling you about the youngest in his group, and the weird way they try to one up each other when they talk about the girls that conveniently both live in different states.

“So they claim,” he nods, taking the offered joint from your fingers and resting it in the ashtray beside his bed. “Amazing how times change. Girls were certainly not impressed by guys that play fantasy games, when I was fifteen.”

You hum, not sure that’s true. You remember Eddie at fifteen. He was just starting to grow his hair out, and it looked crazy, sure. But his eyes were as they are now, big and expressive. 

“Maybe not when you were fifteen, but don’t tell me you haven’t had a couple cheerleaders going through a rebellious phase in this bed over the years.” There’s a pause, and you catch Eddie glancing up at the ceiling. You howl a laugh. “I fucking knew it. Some metalhead you are. You liked the same girls all those basketball players were into.”

“No need to be jealous, sweetheart,” 

That has you rolling your eyes, whether he’s right or not. “As if I’d be jealous of Hayley Matthews.” You watch his eyes for a twitch, any hint of being caught out, but he’s just watching you, unamused. “Olivia? Zoe Miller!” His expression is unflinching, increasingly frustrating you. You grab his wrist and squeeze. “C’mon, tell me!” 

He tries to shake your hand off his wrist but you just hold on to it with the other, opening your mouth to try and irritate him more when he grabs your hands in his and presses them together, pinning them against your stomach. Arousal zings up your back, the wetness between your legs that has been there since he first strummed a chord at the bar suddenly much more noticeable. 

None of this gets past Eddie, who shakes his head at you in disapproval, voice harsh. “You know, you’re getting kind of predictable, sweetheart.” 

You rub your thighs together, anticipation making your head a little fuzzy already. You’re so close to getting what you want from him. In a second, he’ll flip you over and tug off your shorts, pull your hips up and bend himself over your back. Then he’ll give you his cock, and his groans in the air above your head. He’ll let you bite his sheets and smell him on them. Soon you’ll feel good and owned until your head is empty, like you want it.

Only, Eddie just lets your hands go, and backs away from you. You watch, fighting a pout as he stands by the bed and removes his t-shirt, grinning at the way your eyes dart between his tattoos, his necklace, then back to his face. He reaches for you, grasps your hips and this is it. But he’s not turning you over. He’s pulling you towards him, your ass almost hanging off the side of his mattress, his big hands resting on your hips. He lets you squirm and avoid eye contact for a second before he works the button of your shorts open, pulling them down your legs and off your feet. He throws them over his shoulder in a way that might make you laugh at him if he weren’t staring at you like that. 

Eddie hums, hooking his arms under your legs to open them up for him. He leans his body over yours, and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips find your neck instead, soft kisses he trails down to the neckline of your shirt. He shoves the fabric of it up, up and over your chest, face still pressed against your collar bone when he tucks his fingers into your bra to pull it down over your tits. 

You let him do everything wordlessly, not exactly able to complain even if he’s doing this softer, slower than you normally get him to. His breath goes a little funny when he pulls back to glance at your chest, but he’s back to himself in a second, burying his face against the skin between your tits before he drags his lips up to pull at your nipple. You feel a little bit of teeth on the sensitive skin and whimper, pushing the heel of your hand into his sheets. 

You moan outright when he rubs his thumb against your clit over your panties, digging the material between your lips. You feel his grin against the underside of your breast, then on the skin by your belly button and above your panties. “Eddie,” you say, trying to sound put together even as he has you ready to beg. “You don’t have to.”

He pulls your panties to the side with one hand and glides his fingers up your pussy with the other, stopping at your clit to give you a little rub with the rough pads of his guitarist fingers. “I can see that,” he answers, grinning and dropping to his knees by the edge of the bed. He pulls your panties further to the right and out to let him get his head where he wants it. 

You cry out his name when he gets his mouth on you, immediately lifting your hips up and off the bed with your feet on the edge. You feel his laugh against your cunt as he presses you gently back down to the mattress. There’s no teasing, just his wet, soft tongue playing with your button, drifting down to give your hole a wide lick before he’s back looking after your clit. 

Your hand is gentle, threading through the hair at the top of his head to hold him to you, even though he doesn’t even pull away for a second. You dare yourself to look away from his ceiling, down your own torso to his face between your legs, whining to find him with his eyes already on you. 

You feel the tips of his fingers circling your hole, rubbing over your entrance before letting them glide inside, pressing immediately against the spot that has you throwing your other hand down to his hair and grasping him tighter. 

Everything is numb but the pleasure building deep in your cunt, his soft hair between your fingers and your thighs. “Eddie,” you gasp, needing something, you don’t know what. You whine, wanting him to know what to do to make it happen for you, like he always does. “Eddie, please.”

He shakes his head between your thighs, his tip of his tongue bullying your clit, and then he’s pulling your hand from his hair. Turning his palm to yours, he curls his ringed fingers between yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

You squeeze his big hand as he pushes you over, hips jerking against his face wildly. You cry out at the intensity of him still playing with your twitching button as the pleasure in that spot becomes unbearable. He gives your clit one final kiss, a little suction between his lips that has you slamming both your hands against the mattress repeatedly. When he takes his fingers from your pussy, you can feel the slick that follows them leaking out of you. Without hesitation, Eddie buries his fingers in his mouth, tongue dragging between them as he pulls them back out, already clean of you. 

The other hand, still grasped in your own, he brings to his lips as he stands. He presses his swollen, wet lips to the back of it, along your knuckles. 

When he untangles your fingers, your chest aches.

“C’mon,” he says, so gentle. “Want you naked.” 

You pull your top over your head, relief at the new cool air on your heated skin almost overwhelming. Eddie focuses on getting your underwear off while you remove your bra, then he tugs your socks off your feet. 

He smiles at you, tilting his head. His gaze moves over you, up from your swollen cunt to your face, which you’re sure is giving away everything you’re feeling. A little shock, some nerves. All your adoration. 

“So pretty, all over,” he says, kissing your knee that’s still tucked up to keep you open for him. “Pretty cunt, pretty tits, pretty face,” he grins against your skin. “Pretty girl.”

You can’t help yourself when you giggle, feeling a little manic from what just happened. Eddie’s eaten you out before, lots. Before and after he’s had his cock in you. But not like that, never so gentle yet frantic, like he was desperate to do it, not to get you wet enough for him, but to make you feel legless and soft on his bed. 

You miss his hand in yours. 

The metallic jangle of his belt buckle has you shaking your hips in excitement, wanting him now, now, now. 

“I know,” Eddie says, unzipping his pants and pushing them down over his narrow hips. His thick cock is flushed pink, his balls heavy and swollen and fuzzy with dark hair. The sight of his cock has you wrapping your hands around the back of your legs and pulling back, not even feeling judged or insecure when he laughs at your movement, but just more desperate. 

Eddie takes some deep, slow breaths, wrapping his hand around his swollen cock and pulling the skin back over his wet, sticky head. You don’t know why you’re not telling him to hurry up, you’re feeling desperate enough for it. But it doesn’t feel like your place right now, to tell him what to do with himself, or with you. 

Eddie watches your face as he drags the head of his cock up, his wide head catching your hole then pushing at your sensitive clit. Your mouth sits open, ready to moan when he finally gives it to you, but for now you’re just gasping, giving him little girlish whines that have his cock twitching in his hand.

He breathes out through his nose when he catches his cock against your entrance a final time, sliding himself into your wet, clenching cunt and groaning through his closed mouth. 

You clasp onto his shoulders as he builds his pace, stroking himself in and out of you steadily, the wet sound of your cunt clasping onto him filling the room. His hair falls round the sides of his head, and you wish that he’d tuck it behind his shoulders so you could see his lovely face better. 

He does, throwing his head back like a lion shaking its mane to get it out of his face, making you breathe a quick laugh. Eddie’s eyes are so soft on you, then, his hands gentle on your hips. “You wanted to see me, huh?” 

He always knows. 

“Mmm-hmm,” you whine, fingers digging into him.

“You like looking at me while I fuck you?” You shift your hips against his, dizzy with the questions when you don’t want to be thinking anymore, not when his cock is finally getting good use of your cunt like you wanted. “C’mon,” he murmurs, leaning over you, his face now close to yours. Oh, that makes you squeeze around him, enough that you see him pull his eyebrows together. “You like looking at me?”

“Yeah,” you whine, hoping that’s the last of it.

“You’re usually so mean to me,” he breathes, hand coming up to stroke the hair back from your forehead. You mewl at the stuttered thrusts he gives you, grasping him pleadingly. “So fucking mean all the time, but that’s okay.” He smiles at you, thumb stroking over the top of your cheek. “It’s what you need, so you can be good for me like this. Isn’t that right?” 

You’re staring at his big eyes, your vision steadily blurring. “Yes, Eddie,”

“Yeah, I thought so, baby,” he coos, pressing kisses under your eyes. “And you’re so good for me when I get my cock inside you,” he nods you through your cry, letting you know it’s all okay. “So good for me when I touch you.”

“I wanna be good,” you tell him, feeling overwhelmed, but suddenly desperate for him to know. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” 

“I wanna be good, Eddie,” you cry, tears finally falling down the sides of your eyes. He hushes you, holding your face in his big hands, thumbs wiping the wetness away from your burning cheeks. You squeeze his shoulders, wanting him to kiss you. 

It’s like he knows. He always fucking knows. Eddie presses his soft lips to yours, breathing in your cries from the constant movement of him over you, inside you. He draws his hips back, then up as he pushes in and oh God. 

“Eddie,” you gasp.

“That’s it, yeah?” You nod desperately, reaching out almost blind through the tears in your eyes to find his hand and drag it to the top of your cunt, his laugh above you breathy. “I’ve got you,” Eddie says, letting you press his fingers to your clit. He flattens three of them against your sensitive button, rubbing in wide circles that have your thighs shaking. 

You realise suddenly that you’ve been holding your breath, feeling it fall out of you in a wail. You stare at his face as the feeling builds, spreading from the spot the head of Eddie’s cock is dragging against with each thrust to your clit and up your spine. His cheeks are spotted pink, the hair covering his forehead frizzy but for where it’s sticking to his skin. His wide eyes are intent on yours as he nods. “C’mon,” he says, his cock twitching and you realise he needs you to get yours first. “Let me feel it, then I’ll give you my cum all over your little pussy, just how you like.”

Your whole body spasms when you come, your toes curling, your legs pushing up and out enough that Eddie has to put some effort into keeping you in place. He’s murmuring praise all the way through, telling you how good you are for him, how nice your little pussy feels clenching and pulling at his cock. 

“You, now,” you say, encouraging him along, wanting to see him and feel the evidence of his pleasure on you. 

Eddie gives a long groan, and you feel his cock twitch and flex inside before he drags himself from your hole. It sounds like it hurts to leave your warmth, and a little, insane, part of you thinks about telling him to put it back in and cum inside, if that’s what he wants. 

But he’s already at the edge. You watch through hooded eyes as he plays with his cock over your sex, curling his body over yours and slapping his hand on the mattress by your head. You place your palm on the side of his neck and he kisses your wrist quickly, groaning against your skin when he comes, ropes of him landing on your wet, clenching pussy. 

His hips twitch in the air as he coaxes out the final drops, letting himself rub his head against your sensitive clit, leaving his cum there even as your body twitches and jumps in protest. 

Your hand keeps rubbing the side of his neck without you even thinking about it, drifting up to scratch at the back of his head when he falls into you, his face pressed into the skin between your tits. You feel a little numb all over, apart from the space when his warm breath is leaving your skin hot and wet. 

Eddie kisses the inside of your breasts quickly, making to pull away but you’re grabbing him, wrapping your arms under his and around his torso. 

“No, don’t go!” You cry, the thought of the cold air he’s about to let touch your skin making you shiver. The fear that he’ll laugh at you hits with intensity, but you only hear his harsh breaths mingling with yours. 

“’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, kissing your chest again. “Just gonna get something to clean you up, then I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, guiding you to nod too, loosening your arms a little. “Okay,” he breathes, pulling himself slowly from you. 

You stare at the ceiling when he’s gone, legs left open like you’re keeping the space for him. 

Your thighs shake when you feel a wet cloth, gentle and just cold enough to soothe your hot cunt. Eddie cleans around your thighs, which have been wet with you own slick the whole evening. His touch leaves you for a minute, then he’s back with a cool glass, hand on the back of your head, tipping water into your pliant mouth. Then, he’s pulling your boneless body up to sit and dragging a new t-shirt over your torso. The smell of him, smoke and masculine aftershave, embraces you, letting your already fuzzy brain float a little further away from any impending anxiety. 

You feel the bed shift and creak, then he pulls you up the bed away from the wet patch you’ve left on the sheets, settling you against his chest as he leans upright against his pillows. 

You drift a little at the feeling of his hand on your upper arm, gently stroking. Your eyes close, you don’t know for how long, maybe seconds, maybe minutes, but Eddie’s still there with a gentle caress.

You stare at the dark hair on his chest, trying to enjoy the afterglow even as shame starts to build in your chest. Your brain is already mocking you, for all the things you just said, all the things you let him coax from you. 

And he knows.

"If you want, the fur ball can come live here."

You blink, not following at all, and you’re not sure if it’s the weed from earlier or Eddie himself that’s caused it. "What?"

"Yeah, Wayne wouldn't mind as long as he doesn't have to be the one to feed him," he says, looking like he’s thinking it through even as he speaks, and you remember he saw you with the cat.

“You mean you’d look after Banjo?” You ask without thinking, still staring at his chest, not even realising you just told him you went as far as giving the street cat you feed every day its very own silly pet name. 

He keeps stroking the top of your arm. “Yeah, he could terrorise the birds in the woods to his fluffy little heart’s content.” Eddie’s fingers move, up and down, up and down. "And you could come visit him, I don't know, every day maybe." 

Your breath is unsteady. Slowly, you let yourself rest your arm over his torso, almost hugging him. 

"I think he would like that."

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Good Enough ♡ ~

(( Day #4 )) Lucifer x Reader

He hates you. He hates you. You’re sure that he must hate you.

A/N: This is my attempt at an actual fic like a long ass story... ummm,,,, I wrote this a while ago because I just love love love luci and mean m3n so I decided to combine the two!!!! xxx this isn’t the longest thing i’ve ever written but it’s the longest thing i’ve written in a while... hopefully it is alright~~

WC - 5,021

mean, stubborn Lucifer (pretty much luci before like lesson 20?? lmaooo)

~~~

For as long as you’ve lived in the Devildom, Lucifer has been hard on you. 

You’re not sure why the demon pushes you to your limits but, try as you might, you just can’t make Lucifer come to like you. No matter how early you wake up to be on time for breakfast or how intensely you study for your classes, the demon only says that you can ‘do better’. He always finds a flaw in every single piece of yourself that you present to him and that fact only makes you want to try harder with him. 

No matter how difficult it may be, you still want to get along with him (even if he has other plans).

“(Y/N), you’re on cleaning duty tonight.” 

Lucifer’s sudden announcement in the middle of dinner nearly makes you drop your utensils in shock. He has to be kidding with this. Last night was your turn to clean the kitchen and you didn’t leave a single spec of dust on any appliance. Not to mention, Mammon is the one who cooked tonight and you really do not want to be in charge of cleaning that up. 

“(Y/N) cleaned last night, Lucifer,” Asmo reminds his older brother before he sends a gentle smile your way. He tips his shoulder towards you thoughtfully but then instantly stiffens under his brother’s glare. 

“And?” The avatar of pride crosses his arms over his chest and waits for anyone else to refuse him. No one ever does. Asmo sends an apologetic wince your way before turning back to his food. When none of the other demons stick up for you, you know that you have to do something about it yourself. 

“Why do I have to clean up?” At the sound of your soft voice, Lucifer’s eyes slightly widen. This goes against every moral you have that relates to coexisting with Lucifer, the main rule is to never question his authority. As of lately, you’ve grown tired of the way he picks on you. It’s nothing extreme compared to how he punishes his brothers but, you don’t understand why he tugs on your hair and hands you time-consuming tasks.

All of the other demons slowly look toward you before glancing at Lucifer. The eldest demon places his utensils down gently against his plate as his red eyes narrow your way. 

You don’t have the strength to look him in the eyes so you keep your gaze locked on your half-empty glass. 

“Are you questioning me, human?” His now emotionless expression doesn’t falter once, not even as you fist your hands in the napkin settled on your lap. Everyone in the room knows exactly what you did and the tension becomes so thick that you wish the ground would just swallow you whole.

Right now, you know that you have a choice to make. You can either fight with Lucifer or comply with him. It would be so much easier on everyone if you complied but, it wouldn’t be easier on yourself. 

“I just don’t understand why I have to do it when you already had me organize the library today.” You try to keep your composure, try to keep your heartbeat leveled as you finally muster up the courage to look at Lucifer. 

His jaw clicks with frustration when you look into his eyes. He can see the uncertainty and fear swimming in your iris and the demon hates how it looks on you. 

“You’re not going to be cleaning it alone, I am also on cleaning duty tonight.” Lucifer’s answer doesn’t satisfy you at all but, you take the small inch as a win. For once instead of reprimanding you, Lucifer gave you something to take. 

You truly don’t understand him. You fear that you never will. 

The kitchen is filled with just as much tension as the dining room and you think that you’ll never have the luxury of breathing freely again. Lucifer remains quiet as he hands you clean dishes, ones that he expects you to dry to perfection and then place neatly on the drying wrack. 

Every time that you misplace a single dish, he is quick to correct you. 

“Place it beside the other bowl,”

“Organize the utensils by category.”

At one point, he reaches over and holds your hand to guide exactly where he wants each dish to go. His entire body is pressed up against your own as he leans over to hurry the task along. You hate how your heart skips a beat at the proximity, how you happily soak in the difficult presence of Lucifer. 

When you finally put the last spoon in its drying space, you wipe your hands on one of the kitchen towels. The realization that you can leave puts a smile on your face and you reach over to grab your phone so that you can go back to your room and hide. 

It seems that Lucifer has other plans as he boxes you in against the counter with both hands on either side of your body. He bends his tall frame over slightly, dipping his head so that he can look at you closer. 

“Do you think we are done here?” It’s obvious to you that this is a trick question. Regardless if you say yes or no, the demon is going to give you another task. You battle his question with one of your own. 

“We have classes tomorrow, shouldn’t we call it a night?” You try to keep yourself as polite as possible and even go as far as to give the demon a wobbly smile. Lucifer’s frown doesn’t falter in the slightest as he pushes himself off the counter to stand to his full height. He runs his fingers through his hair, and for a split second, you have slight hope that he is going to let you leave. 

But, then he glances down at you. 

“We’re mopping the floors right now.”

In addition to mopping the floors, the two of you also deep-cleaned the fridge and washed all the kitchen towels. Needless to say that by midnight when you both finish, you are exhausted. 

“I expect to see you at six am before breakfast to go over those reports from this afternoon.” Lucifer’s clipped tone as he leaves the kitchen almost makes you cry. You can feel frustration aching in your chest but when the demon turns around to get your confirmation, all you can do is blink the tears away and nod. 

No matter how many times you go over it in your head, no matter how many hours you spend thinking about it, you just can’t understand what you did to make Lucifer dislike you. His endless tasks feel like a punishment no matter how many times he tells you that they are not. 

You also can’t figure out why you go along with the demon’s gentle torment of you. You can’t figure out why you want him to like you so badly, why you want to make him happy. 

For the same reasons that you can’t figure out Lucifer’s intentions, you can’t figure out the same feelings in your own heart. 

Ignorance is bliss and you plan to continue keeping up with the demon until you physically can’t anymore. 

There is something inside your chest that is pushing you, it’s a feeling that motivates you to shoulder Lucifer’s harsh demands. What a coincidence it is that you can’t figure out that emotion either, love. 

You think it’s the exact reason why you find yourself outside of Lucifer’s office the next morning. Perhaps it’s because you just hate to let him down. 

“Come in,” Lucifer murmurs as you softly open his door. His eyes run over your figure as you enter and gently close his door behind you, the dark circles under your eyes physically pain him. He’ll give you a break after this but, for right now, he just needs more time with you. The demon just can’t get you off his mind and whenever you’re near, unfortunately, he feels a little more at ease. Lucifer knows you can put up with it for a little while longer. “sit.”

You sit wordlessly in the chair on the opposite side of his desk, mirroring Lucifer’s position. After that, you wait. Lucifer doesn’t hand you any documents right away, he continues to read over and hastily marks any section that needs it. All you do is sit there. 

The soft lull of his record player, a gentle piano melody escaping through the speakers, nearly makes you fall back asleep. Your eyes flutter shut under your exhaustion and despite the slight warmth from the fireplace, Lucifer’s office is very cold, the brisk temperature is the only thing that keeps you from escaping into a slumber. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer calls out to you and causes your body to lurch as you sit up in a hurry. You subtly try to blink the sleep out of your eyes as you face him. The kind smile you give him does not phase the demon in the slightest. Lucifer merely stares at you for a long pause before going back to the document in his hand. 

The entire situation just makes you so incredibly confused, why would Lucifer have you come in and not even give you any work? You could have been sleeping. 

“Umm, I think I should-” The words of your planned escape fall off your tongue when Lucifer glances up at the sound of your voice. There’s something about the expected stare he gives you underneath his thin glasses and the shade of his hair, the dark strands tinted with gray, that makes you squirm in your seat. “never mind.” 

Lucifer continues to stare at you as he carefully watches your attempt to save a pitiful conversation. He notices how you glance over his walls, the clock, and then back down at your lap. The demon focuses on your fingertips and how you tightly clasp your hands together for warmth. 

He seems to have forgotten in his time away from the human world just how sensitive humans are. 

The avatar of pride rises from his seat, standing tall before you as he extends his limbs to take off his jacket. He slowly circles the desk and comes to stand right behind you. His gentle hands softly push your upper body forward in your seat so that he can wrap the thick jacket around your shoulders. Once he’s sure that your arms have gone through the holes, Lucifer reaches over to button each clip extremely slowly. His long fingers capture your attention and you greedily watch with anticipation as he gets closer and closer to your chest. 

“Don’t fall asleep again.” He murmurs against your ear, his lips so close that you can feel them ghosting over your skin. You can only pray and hope that the demon can’t hear the loud thumping of your heart. “Understand?” Lucifer gives you a hard look as he finishes his work with the jacket and walks to stand back in front of the desk. 

At your obedient nod, his lips twitch upward. 

“Good.” 

For the rest of the session until breakfast, you sit in the silence of the light piano melody and the sound of his pen against paper. Lucifer doesn’t give you a single file to review. 

“Rest well tonight and tomorrow, I won’t be needing your assistance.” This new revelation before breakfast nearly makes you gasp, Lucifer rarely ever gives you a break. At the sight of your lips twitching as you fight back a smile, Lucifer scowls. “Don’t look so pleased, human. I will see you again the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” You quietly murmur before bringing your hands up to your cheeks. No matter what you do, you can’t stop relief from filling your face. It angers the other demon to no end, do you not care that he will be working all alone without you? Do you not care to extend the same politeness and ask if he still wants help? 

He’s aware of his incredible selfishness toward you and your time but, ignores it nonetheless.

Through his anger, Lucifer has to remind himself that you are both a student and a human. The fact that you put up with him so easily is a show of genuine kindness. 

The demon hates it to no end. He hates how you’re changing him despite how hard he tries to fight it. Lucifer is sure that he hates you. 

You become sure of it too the very next evening.

‘Come here now.’

The text from Lucifer comes without warning and you stiffen upon sight of it. Mammon, who looks over your shoulder, even screeches at it. Stupidly, you thought Lucifer would not bother you for the night. You thought you had a free night for once but, it seems the demon can’t even give you that.

“Is he mad about something?” You ask his brother because you really don’t get it, why would Lucifer tell you to relax and then demand that you go to see him? That seems like the opposite of relaxing. 

Levi shrugs his shoulders while Beel continues to down his popcorn. 

“Dunno, good luck! We can rewind the movie when you come back!” Levi’s enthusiasm is not new, he can barely rip his eyes away from the television. Mammon gives your wrist a gentle squeeze of support before you make your way out of the demon’s room. 

Finding Lucifer is incredibly easy since his office is somewhere you can walk to in the dark with your hands tied behind your back. You contemplate waiting before heading into his room, to give yourself time to mentally prepare yourself for his torture but, the quicker you enter, the quicker you get to leave. With that in mind, you push his doors open and step in without a second thought. 

His office is quiet as a soft melody plays in the background, if anything, the air seems relaxing. Well, it seemed that way until you entered. 

“Do you not understand the concept of knocking?” Lucifer asks without looking up from his pile of documents. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as he roughly notes something against the paper in his hands. The rough action causes you to tightly swallow the rest of your nerves. “I believe it is a common human world practice, is it not?” 

At your silence, Lucifer looks up at you with an expecting glare. The resentment in his eyes is something akin to frostbite and you’re sure you’re going to freeze over. 

“It is,” You answer and then take a few steps forward to stand directly in front of his desk. Lucifer hums before glancing back to his paper and like this, you can finally get a good look at him. Seeing the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and the lighter strands of gray against the dark backdrop of his thick hair almost causes you to squirm upon sight. He’s a handsome demon and even you can acknowledge and appreciate that. Lucifer is ethereal even when he is glaring at you and threatening you with your life, you’re sure of it. 

“Then why is it that you fail to knock each time you enter my office?” Gone is Lucifer’s patience, it seems that you’ve been given the short end of the stick since you’re now the target of his bitter frustrations. 

For a brief moment, you mull over your words before choosing to tell him the honest truth. 

“I get nervous and forget,” Slightly honest, it’s true that you get nervous but, you fail to knock because you’re always trying to get in and out of his office as quickly as possible. Lucifer’s pen stills in his hand and his jaw clenches together tightly. 

“I give you no reason to be nervous.” He looks at you with a narrowed gaze as if he is trying to understand you, as if you will spill all your secrets under his glare. Much to his dismay, you remain silent and are unable to reply. 

Conversing with Lucifer is always a tricky dance where you try not to step on his feet. 

It’s best to get straight to the point. 

“Um, is there a reason you wanted to see me?” You stare down at his desk instead of his face as you run your fingers along the wooden trim. It’s distracting, a good thing to you, and a bad thing to him. 

“I can hear you all talking through the walls.” Bitter, Lucifer sounds undeniably bitter. “It’s too loud, I thought I told you to rest.” If this is his attempt at showing his concern for you, you find it to be weak. 

“I am relaxing, we are watching a movie.” Lucifer’s frown only grows larger at your words and you anxiously start to toy with your fingers. Your thumb runs over your knuckle and then the tip of your finger before pressing down on the digit to pop it. 

“A movie?” His voice sounds dangerous as if he is insinuating that you are doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. “Who is we?” The rapid beating of your heart must not be good for your health and you try to take a moment just to breathe. 

“Mammon, Levi, and Beel,” You answer truthfully as your eyes dart to a random corner in the room. There is no way you can face the disappointment in Lucifer’s eyes or attempt to understand him. No matter how much you think about it, you can’t understand why he is acting so difficult. 

“Sounds like fun.” He practically spits this out through clenched teeth and you finally look over him. Timidly, your eyes run over his hard face. The feeling in your gut is pity.

“Well, would you like to join us?” At your question, Lucifer looks at you as if you insulted his very being. His eyes widen dramatically and he places his pen down against the hardwood of his desk. However, the shock quickly evaporates from his face and is replaced with anger. 

“No.” His decline is firm, set in stone. “Unlike you and your head full of air, I try not to spend my free time doing such worthless things.” 

Your eyes narrow toward him and your nose scrunches up in disgust at his dramatics. If Lucifer was trying to offend you, he did so incredibly well. As you try to put a lid on your temper you think of your second rule that comes with surviving Lucifer, never let your anger get the better of you. 

Despite how hard you try to remind yourself to do this, the words work to no avail. Who gave Lucifer the right to judge you so hard? To pick you apart and pluck at any piece of you that he doesn’t find satisfactory?

“I wouldn’t want you there anyway.” The petty reply leaves your lips before you can catch it and the glare to match your words is not something you even try to hide. With just the two of you in the room, you have no worries about how this explosive decision would affect any of the other demons. Lucifer’s eyes narrow at the fight instilled in you. He slowly places his hands in his lap while keeping his deadpan stare on your face. 

“Excuse me?” He settles for this and tries to give you an opportunity to take it back. Horns appear on top of his head as voluminous wings sprout from his back 

“You heard me.” If Lucifer is shocked by your outburst, he does an exceptionally well job at hiding it. “Do you really dislike me so much that you have to nag me about everything?” You can’t help how your voice grows with emotion, how you firmly place your palms on his desk and slightly lean over the wood. “I do everything that you ask for and I do it perfectly. Would it kill you to be the least bit appreciative?” 

Your fingers twitch against the hardwood as Lucifer continues to stare at you. Timidness is flowing through your body once again and you try everything in your power to push it away. No good will come to you right now if you back down. It’s not like you can pretend this never happened, no, you have to push through. 

“Do I dislike you?” Lucifer repeats as he finally pushes himself out of his chair, standing to his full height to tower over you. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting his muscle bulge under his jacket and you have half a mind to think that he does this to hold back from lunging at you. “I loathe you, human.” 

Fear instills in your core and disappointment takes root at the painful feeling of it all. 

“What? Why?” You can’t help but ask him of this, ask him why he’s stepping all over your heart so easily. 

“No matter how much effort you put into this place, the Devildom will remain the same.” In contrast to your own wide eyes filled with glossy tears, Lucifer’s are narrowed and tinted with irritation. The bitter feeling rubs him entirely the wrong way. 

“You hate me because you think I’m trying to change this place?” No matter how much work you did for Lucifer, no matter how closely you followed his directions to a ’t’, it didn’t matter. That much is true for you now. “All I ever did was what you asked of me.”

“I did not ask you to change my brothers and I most certainly did not ask you to change me.” This is too much for you to keep up with, your head is spinning under Lucifer’s true feelings. “I see the way you look at me.” 

You instantly freeze and dart your eyes to the floor, he can’t be insinuating this. Right now, you’ve never wanted to run away and hide as badly before in your life. You can’t have Lucifer saying this out loud, not when you haven’t even said it to yourself yet. 

“Do you think that you are subtle, human? All the lingering touches and meaningful stares, I know exactly how you feel about me.” Lucifer’s harsh words stab at your heart, picking and pulling you apart. Unlike you, the demon doesn’t appear affected in the least. Lucifer still stands tall with his arms crossed over his chest and glare as dangerous as ever. “You will not change me.”

“Haven’t I already changed you?” You wish you would bite your own tongue and stop talking but, you can’t. The harder Lucifer pushes you, the harder you push back. At this point, you’re not even aware of what you’re saying anymore. You just want to affect Lucifer as terribly as he’s affecting you. “I-I think you’re wrong about how you feel about me.”

“Oh? Tell me, how do I feel about you?” The demon seems to be mildly entertained, his eyes widening in some twisted amusement as you tremble in front of him. 

“I think what you really hate is how much you need me.” Your hands instantly slap over your mouth after the words finally fall out. Need is a strong word. Regardless of how Lucifer claims to feel about you, you know the demon wants you near him all the time. Why else would he keep you attached to his hip?

It seems that the tension of the entire room, which is filled to the brim, explodes. Before, it was like a suffocatingly thick smog covering the two of you. Now the room is draped in heavy silence, one so loud that all you can hear are the ticks coming from the grandfather clock beside the door. 

You subtly glance towards it, the door, and start planning how exactly you can escape from this situation. 

“Get out.” Lucifer’s orders send you quickly excusing yourself without a second thought. Not once, do you look at him or think to do so. You don’t see the stunned look on his face or the pieces of his heart all coming together. No, you run back to your room and hide with your tail between your legs. 

Under the covers, you pray that no harm will come to you. 

Weeks have passed since that incident with Lucifer and all has seemingly run smoothly. The demon remains cordial with you and does not make a scene in front of his brothers. He simply hands you documents to review and makes you leave them outside of his office when you are done. The complete 180 shift of his treatment toward you almost makes you feel embarrassed about your previous words. 

How could you be so bold and claim that the demon needs you? It’s been weeks, much to your aching heart, and Lucifer has not asked for you once. 

‘I know exactly how you feel about me.’ His lingering words sometimes ring in your mind, forcing you into a state of humiliation. It’s safe to say that you somewhat understand your feelings for Lucifer better now, you can admit that how you feel about him is different than how you feel about anyone else that you know. Your affection for him makes the distance between the two of you more difficult to cope with. 

All you want to do is see Lucifer. 

“(Y/N), Lucifer wants to see you in his room.” Asmo knocks on your door in passing, delivering the words that seal your fate before he happily heads to his own room. 

You regret your earlier dramatics and begs for his attention because as you walk to his room, you can’t think of anything scarier than facing him. The demon must have a reasonable explanation to call you out and you hold onto the hope that it will all pass over smoothly. 

Once in front of his door, you actually remember to knock. The sensation of the hardwood against your knuckles momentarily distracts you from the anxiety in your heart and you’re thankful for it. 

“Come in,” Lucifer’s voice sounds sharper than normal as if he is on edge. You mentally say a prayer to anyone who will listen before entering his room and closing the door firmly behind you. 

The demon can’t hide the shock on his face when he finally sees you. His eyes slightly widen and his hand moves to rest over his chest. The moment of weakness doesn’t last for long before his face falls into a rather pleasant expression. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to knock,” He teases and you can’t help but awkwardly rock on your heels. You’re not sure what to say to Lucifer or how to face him. The demon can tell this right off of your face. “calm down, human.” 

“I’m not going to eat you,” His voice draws you in, and forces your feet to move as you walk over to the couch by his piano. “sit.” You sit on the edge of the cushion, incredibly close beside him, and mentally prepare for the scolding you’re sure you’re going to receive. “I am only going to say this once,” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping his anger won’t be too blunt. 

“Look at me.” There’s a soft touch against the back of your hand and you timidly open your eyes to find Lucifer’s fingers brushing against your own. You obediently look up at him. “You were right,” He grabs your hand with his own.

Lucifer is admitting to one of his faults, your lips part in shock and eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Right about what?” 

Lucifer looks you over as his eyes slightly soften and a gentle smile takes place on his face. 

“I do need you.” The confession nearly makes your heart stall in your chest and the gentle glide of his thumb against your palm does little to calm you down. 

“You do?” You repeat, testing the words on your tongue. Lucifer bends his head forward slightly, letting his hair brush against your forehead. 

“I do.” His voice sounds much closer now and you freeze at the proximity of his body. “I always have, please forgive me for always being so harsh with you.” One of his hands crosses your body to hold onto your hip, wrapping his arm around your waist. “It seems I was the one who was unaware of my feelings.”

“Your feelings?” Finally, you look up through your lashes to find Lucifer staring intently at you. He nearly sighs at the contact. 

“Must I spell it out for you?” He looks away for the slightest moment before bringing his eyes back to you. “I adore you, (Y/N). I was harsh because of it. I am terribly sorry.” 

You’re having a hard time keeping up with the suddenness of it all. It seems that you couldn’t have been more wrong about this meeting. While you were preparing for a scolding, he was preparing for a confession. 

“Is that so?” You murmur and attempt to hide your face from his stare. Lucifer gently cups your cheek and your skin burns underneath his gloved fingertips. The flustered state of your appearance nearly makes the man coo. 

“It is.” He confirms and dips his head to rest his forehead against your own. Lucifer doesn’t expect anything in return from you, just getting to express his desires to you is more than enough. “I apologize that I took so long to come to terms with it.” 

Deep down, the two of you always knew that you shared a mutual adoration for one another. 

With a slight tilt of your head, you brush your lips against his cheek. 

“(Y/N),” Lucifer warns as his eyes flutter shut. If you continue to be so soft with him, to love on him so kindly, the demon can’t be responsible for how he responds. “do you think I would be satisfied with such a sweet kiss?”

His hands tighten against your jaw before pulling your chin downwards, allowing his lips to brush against your own. 

“Please allow me to shower you with my love for tonight.”

. . .

2023/02/07 ♡

[eashn]

hi, i loved ur hq headcanons! 🥹 can i request pegging oikawa? dw if u dont wanna write it!! thank u 😋

hey there, i’m so glad to hear you enjoyed!!! and YES most certainly—i just know that mfer would be the absolute BRATTIEST at first but so easy to wear down. this is more like the foreplay to pegging more than actual pegging itself, but i hope it sort of matches what you were expecting! enjoy <3

pegging oikawa tōru

word count: ~0.7k

warnings: NSFW/sexual content, fem!reader, bondage (oikawa in handcuffs), anal fingering, strap-on, a single ass slap, slight feature of my size kink because he is 6 FUCKING FEET TALL, swearing, bratty!oikawa

“Ngh—you got me in a…predicament here, sweetheart,” Oikawa groaned.

You said nothing, shoving his face into the mattress. With the other hand, you yanked his arms behind his back. 

“Watch the face,” he said muffledly. 

“Shut up,” you replied, looping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

He was on his knees before you, stripped naked and sticking his ass up sweetly in the air. “Hmph!” he cried, the sound high, irritating, and utterly childish. Twisting his neck around in your grasp, he pouted dramatically over his shoulder, making a show of squirming around in the cuffs. 

As if he hadn’t asked for this himself. 

Since that first time—when Oikawa Tōru quietly, blushingly admitted the kind of fantasies he touches himself to late at night—he’d been pretty straightforward about all this. “I want you to fuck me in the ass like I’m your little bitch, Y/N,” he’d said, not fifteen minutes ago. And now, here he was: all sulky and petulant, grumbling about this and that while simultaneously, his puckered hole was tensing around nothing, begging to be filled. God, he was difficult. 

“Y’know,” he smirked up at you, face half-smushed into the sheets, “if it was me doing the fucking, I wouldn’t have needed these.” He rattled the handcuffs to prove his point. “I’d just hold that little cunt down with my bare hands, wouldn’t I, baby? Doesn’t that embarrass you?”

You stared quietly down at him for a moment. For you knew what he was doing: fighting you for dominance to make it seem like he was the one in control. It was a last-ditch effort to regain a shred of his own dignity. 

But.

“No,” you answered. “I’m not embarrassed, Tōru. Know why?”

You didn’t wait for his reply. You simply tightened the grip you had in those soft, brown curls and yanked his head toward you. He hissed. And, leaning in, you whispered in his ear: 

“Because I’m not the one that’s on my knees.” 

Oh, he whined at that—he whimpered and moaned nonstop the second you let go and started lubing up his clenching hole. He shuddered as you kneaded his pretty, pale skin, and he gasped when you slapped one pert asscheek. One of your hands stayed at his rim, carefully working at the taut ring of muscle. He buried his face back in the sheets when you started inching a finger inside. 

“Please,” he grunted, working himself back against your hand. 

“What was that?” you asked. 

“W-want…more—please.”

“Aw,” you tsked. And because he asked nicely, you worked another finger into him, gently stroking his stretched-tight walls as he moaned with relief. “What were you saying earlier? You gonna ‘hold me down with your bare hands’? Huh, baby?” You picked up the pace of your fingers, and a wail tumbled from Oikawa’s lips.

“I don’t know,” you drawled, “Looks to me like you’re stuck, Tōru. God—look at you. So big and powerful and you’re begging for me, aren’t you? Got you tied up—slick and ready, ass in the air. Gonna fuck you boneless, babe.”

Shit. It was getting to you, too: the sight of him sweaty and plaint beneath you had heat pooling in your core, dripping out onto the bed. You had to be quick—get him close, pound him into the mattress for a bit, till he was pleading for release—then you’d deny him. Make him finish you off instead. He whined as you eased your fingers out of his ass. You squeezed another glob of lube into your palm and, wrapping your hand around the thick shaft of the strap-on fastened to your hips, you smeared it up and down. You guided its tip to the back of Oikawa’s thigh.

“You’re not gonna survive this, Tōru,” you whispered darkly. Hunching over him, you leaned into his ear again. “I’m gonna wreck that little hole tonight.” 

Then, your free hand snaked around to his stomach. You grasped his twitching cock, spreading the dribbling precum across his tip with your thumb. Oikawa whimpered.

“Wr-wreck me,” he mumbled, voice desperate and warbly. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into his hair. 

“Good boy,” you murmured, sliding the strap into his wet, ready hole.

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed!

requests for haikyuu drabbles/headcannons are WIDE OPEN; please drop by with your ideas!!!! and follow @eashn for more :)

[whumpshaped]

sunshine for the bingo? :]

BINGO. also technically this is the second time but the first was so tiny it doesnt count. after this

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, accidental whump, burns, past trauma, lady whumper, flashbacks, conditioned whumpee, death talk and corpses

Helle knew they would have to let go of Beck and begin cleaning up at some point. The entire place was wrecked, and it hurt their heart to know they'd just managed to do a bit of tidying up a week or so prior. Wasted effort.

They glanced towards the bodies and the blood seeping into the carpet, and they just knew all of it was soaked, both the fabric and the wood below. Was it ruined now? Were they going to have to call someone to redo the entire floor? Surely not. Surely, it could be salvaged...

They groaned in frustration. Okay. They just had to start.

"Will you actually stay in my bedroom this time if I bring you back?" they asked gently, already scooping Beck up before he could've answered.

"I'm sorry for leaving," he muttered. "I got so... so worried."

"Yes, yes, because I am wholly incapable of defending myself. What would I do without the help of a runt?" They pushed the door open and carried him inside, then took a calming breath. "Never do it again, yes? I will not praise you for disobeying me, if that is what you were hoping for."

Beck looked up at them with teary eyes. "I don't– I don't want praise, I was just... I was hoping maybe you'd... you'd forgive me for it, if I ended up being useful..."

"I do forgive you. But I need you to promise you will never do such a thing again."

He slowly nodded, his expression full of guilt and the pain of rejection. He must've felt so heroic in that moment when the stake had hit him, knowing he'd likely saved their life, and now here they were, scolding him for it. But they didn't need to encourage something as stupid as heroism. Self-sacrifice. What good did that ever do? Beck was way too willing to get himself killed, and with his abilities, it'd become a reality sooner than later if they were to indulge him.

"I promise, Master. I'm sorry."

"Good." They walked over to their closet and picked out a shirt, then tore off a strip of fabric. Then another. Then one more. They didn't want to go and get the actual bandages until all the windows were covered up again, and they didn't want Beck completely soaking the bed until then either. This seemed like a reasonable compromise, and something that would hold him over until he healed. They had too many shirts anyway.

He looked more than grateful to be patched up by them, mumbling thank yous all the way through. "I can help with cleaning," he said eagerly. "Once– once it doesn't hurt as much–"

"I am counting on that. Your family made a mess of this place."

He winced. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll come help as soon as I can, Master."

-

Annoying. So annoying. So many little glass shards to pick up. So many corpses to throw into a pile by the front door. So many layers of clothing to put on so they wouldn't get burned. They could've waited for nightfall, sure, but they didn't want to spend their night doing this.

Helle huffed as they tried to put another ripped off curtain rod back in place, securing it with regular nails and a hammer. They didn't own a fucking drill, they never thought they'd need it. And this was the easier part, too. Hanging up the curtains themselves was a major pain in the ass, and they were not looking forward to it.

They went window by window, holding at least three nails in their mouth at all times. They were so immersed in their work that they didn't even hear as the bedroom door opened and closed, nor the soft patter of feet drawing nearer and nearer.

"The bleeding stopped," Beck announced sheepishly, almost startling them enough to fall off the ladder; but instead they ended up letting go of the half-secured curtain to steady themself, letting in the last rays of the evening sun as it swung to the side.

Beck let out a bloodcurdling scream as the light hit his sensitive body, and Helle jumped off the ladder without thinking to pull him into the shadows. "What on earth is wrong with you?" they snapped, desperate to cover up their horror and nausea with righteous anger. "Your only job for the night was to stay away from goddamn trouble! Is that really so difficult?"

The poor thing was crying and whimpering from the pain, his hands, neck, and face burnt and twitchy. Helle was pretty sure he couldn't even see with his eyes having gotten such a direct hit — he was probably blind for the moment.

"I– I'm sorry– I'm sorry–"

"Oh, be quiet." They wanted to strangle him. They wanted to throw him against the wall and hear his ribs crack. They really wished their stupid, idiotic, overzealous, overexcited puppy of a vampire servant could've resisted the urge to throw himself in harm's way for just two seconds. "What did I tell you? What the hell did I tell you? I told you to stay in the goddamn bedroom."

Beck whined, so pitiful that Helle couldn't stand it. They shoved his burnt body further into the darker parts of the room, letting him stumble and fall when he failed to find a single thing to hold onto. Not that it would've helped, given how ruined his hands were. "I'm sorry," he repeated brokenly, staring at nothing with those stupid doe eyes of his. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry–"

"Quiet."

He flinched and curled in on himself, sobbing, making it impossible not to draw a comparison to when...

"I apologise!" they cried for the hundredth time, body covered in lashes and fresh burns. They couldn't stop trying every time the lady pulled them away from that terrifying, poisonous patch of sunshine in the hallway, whenever they got a moment of reprieve and they weren't just screaming incoherently. "Please, forgive me–"

She pushed them forward again, plunging most of their upper body into the light to sizzle and melt like wax.

Beck tried to weep as quietly as he could, afraid of being punished further than he'd already punished himself by accident. They shook their head a little, dispelling the memory.

"I shall draw you a cold bath after I have finished the work," they said coldly. "Do try to writhe as little as possible; burned skin cracks and tears quite easily."

~

@whumpprentice @starliight-whump

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump @d-cs @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @tauntedoctopuses @blueyellow8green @typewrittenfangs @whumpsoda @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @auroragehenna @whumpedydump

[frenchfrywrites]

Buying a Bottle of Lube at the Convenience Store.

MINORS DNI

Warnings: amab masc top dom reader, trans sub bottom Ukai Keishin, character smokes cigarettes, unprotected sex, safe sane and consensual tho, perceived unrequited love, love confession, brief cunnilingus, Keishin is a pillow princess

Terms used for Keishin: pussy, cunt, chest, cock, tits, hole, He’s wearing a binder during a bit of the fic.

I had a dream about haikyuu characters and somehow popped this fic out within a day. Apologies if ukai is ooc, ive been in and out of the haikyuu fandom lol

The sound of the bell ringing, signifying someone has entered the store, does not make Ukai Keishin look up. He's far into his night shift, and he’s entirely preoccupied looking over a strategy sheet for Karasuno’s next game, but he manages to mumble a half-assed greeting to whoever is shopping around regardless. 

“Hello Keishin,” it’s only at the sound of your voice minutes later, suddenly so close to him, that he looks up. His lit cigarette nearly drops from his mouth, and he knows he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. He’d almost forgotten someone else was in the store with him, with how quietly you were walking around. You’re smirking, because of course you are, and it makes Keishin blush because of course it does.

He mumbles out your name as a greeting, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s annoyed that he’s this flustered just from seeing you. You’ve got him acting like a high schooler with a crush. You don’t seem bothered at all by his reaction. Instead, you set down a few items on his counter like there’s not an unbearable amount of tension between the two of you.

Keishin takes a shaky inhale of smoke from his cigarette, trying to calm his nerves and do his job like the grown ass man that he is. You wait patiently for him to collect himself, and finally he sucks in a sharp breath and blindly grabs at the first item. 

Keishin scans a few drinks and snacks, dropping them carelessly in a plastic bag for you. The last item makes his heart jump. 

Lube. 

He glaces up at you, and you’re smiling at him expectantly. He thinks this is as much of an invitation as he’ll get.

“Um,” he clears his throat, “fuck do ya need this for?” the question was supposed to come off as aloof and playful, but with the way his voice cracks, it sounds more genuine and raw than he’d ever intended. 

“Was hoping to use it on you, baby boy,” you purr. Keishin immediately feels heat explode between his legs. He chokes on his spit, and fumbles with the bottle. 

“Okay,” he squeaks, and passes the lubricant to you. Within the next few seconds, he puts out his cigarette, and goes to flip the sign on the door so that it reads “closed.” Keishin then hurries to the back room of the store, with you close on his heels. 

He has his hands on you as soon as you’re alone, clutching your shirt with his sweaty palms and hauling you forward to kiss him. Keishin can feel you smiling into the kiss, and his heart melts. He’s so in love with you it hurts. 

You lick your tongue against his lips, one of your hands holding his hip as the other holds the lube. Keishin opens his mouth, even though he’s a bit insecure about the fact that he knows he’ll taste like cigarettes. You don’t seem to mind one bit, eagerly pressing your tongue into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. 

Keishin groans, his grip on your shirt tightening, and the wetness between his legs steadily growing. He wants to feel your mouth on his pussy, and he wants your fingers- then cock- inside of him, and he doesn’t know which thing he wants more. 

You push yourself right up against him, so he can feel your hard cock press against his aching pussy, and that gives him his answer. He needs you inside of him. Now.

Keishin pulls away from you, panting heavily, “fuck me,” he demands. You tut, leaning in and biting his lower lip, Keishin yelps, “sorry, god- ouch! Please fuck me?” he tries, sucking on his now swollen lip. 

“That’s better,” you coo, pulling on the hem of his shirt. Keishin lends a helping hand, pulling off his shirt, and tossing it elsewhere. “Binder on or off?” you ask, and he tugs on your shirt while he thinks about it.

“Off,” he finally decides. You moan, and now it’s Keishin’s turn to smirk, because he loves how turned on you get from seeing his chest. 

The next couple of minutes are full of readjusting: Keishin yanks off his binder, you pull off your shirt, and the two of you maneuver to the small futon that Keishin keeps back here for your little trysts. 

With you on top of him, Keishin feels like caught prey. Your eyes scan his body hungrily, and then you dig in. 

First you kiss and suck at his neck, to which Keishin whines about, for he’ll have to cover them before practice unless he wants to answer or evade a myriad of invasive questions. 

You laugh, then move lower, burying yourself in his tits. Now Keishin whines for an entirely different reason. When you take on of his nipples into your mouth, he moans and arches his chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans breathlessly, holding onto your head, keeping you there. He lets you play with his chest for a bit, but it’s not enough, and only adds to the dull ache between his legs.

He groans your name, pushing your head lower, “c’mon, fuck me, please,” this time he remembers his manners. 

You make your way down his abdomen, kissing his skin tenderly as you do. It makes Keishin flush more when you’re sweet and soft with him compared to when you’re nasty and rough. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but you’ve been a lot more sweet with him these days. 

When you reach his pants, there’s some readjusting again as you get him out of them and his boxers. With the remaining fabric gone, Keishin is fully exposed to you, but the tingling sensation he feels isn’t nerves- it’s excitement. 

Your hands immediately fly to his pussy, collecting his wetness on your fingers, then rubbing at his erect clit. Keishin moans, then wails when he feels you kiss the piercing he has directly above his clit. 

“So noisy,” you muse teasingly, licking and sucking his clit into your mouth. Keishin resists the urge to sandwich your head between his thighs.

“Fuckin’ please man,” he begs as best as he can, “I’m dying, please, fill me up,” you pull off his cunt with a pop, and lick your lips.

“Noisy and needy,” you hum, going to pull off your pants. Keishin drools when you reveal your cock to him, and if he weren’t so wildly desperate, he’d demand (or beg, really) to suck you off first. You toss your pants elsewhere and grab the lube.

“Ah, should I have bought condoms too?” you ask. Keishin shakes his head, as it’s not like he’s messed around with anyone else since you entered his life, and he’s been tested.

“You clean?” he checks, sounding much too hopeful for his own liking. You smile fondly, 

“Yeah, I’m not fucking anyone but you, baby boy,” and Keishin’s heart swells.

“Well I’m on the pill, so…” he trails off, shrugging. Letting out a pleased hum, you pop open the bottle of lube. 

“I’m gonna creampie your pussy then,” you promise, coating your fingers. Keishin clenches around nothing, his lips parting at your dirty talk. 

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, because he didn’t even know he wanted that as badly as he does. “Yeahhh,” he moans next, when two of your fingers slip inside of him. Keishin yanks off his headband and closes his eyes, bathing in the sensations of your fingers stretching and fucking him open.

“You’re opening up so well for me baby,” you praise, curling and spreading your fingers. There’s an obscene squelching sound coming from his pussy from how wet he is, and how much lube you used. Keishin is panting, and then moaning when your thumb plays with his clit. The symphony of noise echos in the back room. 

“Fuck- Fuck!” he gasps when you add a third finger, “ooh ya better fuck me soon, or I’ll-”

“So noisy,” you tell him again, cutting him off, “we’re lucky no one’s in the shop,” and that image makes Keishin clench hard around your fingers. “Oh? Does my pretty baby boy want that? You want everyone to hear you begging for my cock?” He shakes his head, but lets out a long drawn out moan- effectively sending you a completely mixed message. 

“Please,” he then practically sobs, and luckily for him, you take pity on him. Or maybe you’re just as wound up as he is. 

You lather your cock in the lube, and hover over Keishin, placing your hands on either side of his head for stability. He wraps his legs around your waist, and when the tip of your dick brushes against his hole he lets out a choked moan. 

Pressing your hips forward, you easily slip inside of him. Keishin’s mouth drops open as you push yourself inside of him. 

“Oooh,” he exhales, sinking into the futon beneath him, looking entirely blissed out. You lean in, kissing his jaw when your hips meet. 

“Taking me so well,” you murmur, kissing him again. Keishin flutters around you, babbling incoherently. 

You start with a slow pace, letting him adjust to you, but Keishin’s been filling his hole with a dildo (that doesn't even begin to compare to you, but it gets the job done) every night that you’re apart, and it’s sooner than later that you can pick up the pace. 

Keishin lets out staccato moans in time with each thrust, pawing at your chest, until his hands find their way behind your back. He claws at your skin when you reangle your hips and your cock slides deeper into him.

“Ah, fuck,” he cries, clenching like a vice around you, “gonna cum.”

“Already?” you tease, slowing down. Keishin lets out a frustrated grunt, using his legs to pull you further into him,

“Yes, now please, please make me cum,” he huffs, frustration evident already. You let out a soft moan, and speed up again, per his request. Keishin sighs happily, feeling his orgasm begin to peak once again. 

“Want you,” he huffs, “want ya-ah t’cum in me, fuck me full’ve it please, wanna feel it drip-”

“Okay,” you cut him off, your thrusts becoming erratic and sloppy simultaneously. “I’m gonna cum too, god Keishin,” you whine, bringing a hand down to play with his clit. 

That’s what sends him over the edge, and how could it not? His cock twitches under your touch as he clenches and pulses around you. Keishin cries out your name, digging his nails into your back so hard that you’re sure you’ll have marks later.

You follow him soon after, pumping his womb full of your cum as you’d promised, and Keishin lets out a weak groan at the feeling. “Kei-” is all you can manage to mumble before capturing his lips as you ride out your orgasm. 

When you pull away, both of you are gasping for breath. You’re slow and gentle with pulling out, listening for any signs of pain or discomfort. You fall next to him, then fumble around for the blanket next to the futon. You cover the two of you with it, and snuggle up next to him as it always takes a bit for the two of you to recover before you can start cleaning him up. 

“Damn,” Keishin covers his blushing face with his hands, “I love you,” he whispers, too caught up in the moment to realize what he’s said.

“What?” you don’t let it slide, tugging at his arms gently, “what’d you say?” you sound excited, and that’s the only reason Keishin repeats what he’d confessed.

“Said I love you,” he avoids eye contact, blushing furiously. 

“Keishin,” you coo lovingly, hauling him into your arms, “I love you too!” 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and returns your embrace. 

The two of you hold each other for a moment, until Keishin breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Ya have to pay me for the lube, y’know,” he mumbles sleepily. You bark out a laugh,

“Sure, I’ll give you 400 yen,” you ruffle his two toned hair, “tomorrow.”

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Moment of Just Letting Go (Terzo x GN! Reader FLUFF)

(A/N: A lot of people really liked that Primo was a total dad in my last Terzo fic, so we're doing it again! TW: some swearing, mild angst if you squint really hard)

You had to forcibly keep the scowl off your face as you watched Terzo flirt with yet another one of your Siblings. He held their chin delicately in his fingers, that devilish smirk that you had fallen in love with over the years burning into your eyes as he looked at someone who wasn't you. It hurt. You and Terzo had known each other for years, you joining the clergy when he was still completing his studies to take over as Papa. You were friends, you would dare even say you were one of his best friends. But, even being his best friend didn't quiet the burning rage in your heart that came along with you seeing him flirt with someone else. The Sibling that Terzo was currently flirting with ran off with an expression of excited nervousness, just elated about their interaction with him. "Have fun with your new toy?" You say bitterly as he approaches you. He furrows his brow at you.

"You know it's nothing like that, there's nothing wrong with some harmless flirting from time to time." 'Harmless flirting my ass.'

"Right." You agree shortly, not wanting to start an argument. He sighed, not satisfied by your answer and the fact that you still looked furious.

"Do you want to come over tonight? Watch a movie like we used to?" You could tell by his tone that he was attempting to offer you an olive branch. He didn't want to fight with you either, but that still didn't change the fact that it made you physically sick watching him flirt with other people.

"If I'm done helping your brother by then I'll consider it." You closed the book you were reading, tucking it away in your bag so you could head off to help Primo. You stood, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. Terzo made a move to reach out and take a hold of your hand but stopped himself, shoving his hand in his pocket instead.

"Don't let him keep you all night, the old man will work non-stop if you let him." You can't help but let out a small laugh. "Hopefully I'll see you tonight." You nod at him before heading towards the library. You didn't have to be there to help Primo for another half hour but you could feel the emotions you were trying so hard to keep hidden from Terzo bubbling up in your throat. You wanted to scream at him, get an answer from him as to why it was never you, why he would blatantly flirt with everyone else right where you could see it. But you couldn't. You wandered into the library, saying hi to the librarian before making your way all the way to the furthest back corner. You pulled the pillow off of the nearest chair, burying your face in it, and screaming your heart out. You collapsed back into the chair, tossing the pillow down at your feet before raking your sleeve across your now damp face.

"Il mio bambino-" You jump, eyes flying over to Primo who was leaning up against one of the shelves.

"Satan below, you scared the hell out of me." You clutch your chest, Primo chuckles at your actions.

"I'm sorry my dear, I didn't mean to scare you." He walks over to you calmly, kneeling down to come face to face with you. "You're looking awfully upset. Did something happen?" You attempt to wipe the tears from your eyes again.

"It's nothing Papa, it's silly." He smiles calmly at you.

"Whatever it is, it's making you upset, yes?" You nod slowly. "That means it's not silly." He helps you stand, offering you his arm to walk with him. "Only you can decide how big or small your feelings are my dear. Just because something that troubles you doesn't have much weight in someone else's life doesn't mean it holds the same weight in yours. Now, if you would like to talk about it, you know your Papa is always here for you." He gives you a gentle pat on the head. "But, we can also get some work done in quiet so you can relax a little bit." He pauses, waiting for you to give him an answer.

"Can we start our work? I don't think I'm ready to talk about this yet." Primo smiles patiently at you, giving you a small nod of approval.

"If that's what you would like my dear, absolutely." Primo sent you off to go find a list of books he was going to need for a bunch of lessons and sermons he had coming up. You happily obliged, used to working side by side in silence with him. You had noticed that it was starting to get dark outside, checking your watch you saw that it was around 6:30. You found yourself checking the time every five to ten minutes afterwards, battling in your head whether you should attempt to excuse yourself to go see Terzo or not.

"(Y/N), is everything alright?" You took a deep breath.

"Papa, I'm sorry but there's somewhere I need to be." Your whole body was tense, you didn't have any idea in the slightest whether or not this was the right decision. Primo folds his hands in front of him, studying you for a brief moment.

"Does this have to do with why you were so distraught earlier?" You nod apprehensively. He waves you away, "you can go my dear." You collect your belongings, trying your best not to think too hard about your decision. You were just about to leave when Primo suddenly speaks up again. "Let him know... That if he makes you cry again, he's going to have to deal with me personally."

"Yes Papa." You walk to where he was seated, giving him a tight hug from behind. He pats your arm, neither of you having to say a single word. Primo knew how thankful you are for him and you knew how much he cared for you. Without another word you left, stopping by your dorm for a brief moment to change into something more casual and to drop off your bag before heading over to Terzo's quarters. You stood outside his door, a thick slab of mahogany that, at the moment, was the only thing separating you from the man you wanted more than anything else in the world. "You can do this, it's just another movie night with one of your best friends." You were just about to knock on his door, then you froze. What if he was in there with someone else? You withdrew your hand, your fist now limply hanging at your side. How were you supposed to react if you were interrupting something? You started to feel awkward, like your body just wanted to collapse in on itself. What if he had forgotten that he had asked you to come over? For all you knew he wasn't even here. Your expression resembled a deer in headlights when the door unexpectedly opened in front of you. Out stepped Terzo in a casual pair of jeans and a black long sleeve shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was messy, it looked like he had been constantly raking his hand through it for hours. You couldn't stop yourself from glancing past him into his room, expecting to see a naked Sibling asleep in his bed. His eyes eventually trailed your gaze, he let out a short chuckle.

"There's not a ghost in there, right?" You two stood in an awkward silence for a moment.

"You're... Alone?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He seemed genuinely perplexed by your question. He clears his throat, adjusting the rolls on his sleeves to keep him focused on something other than your eyes burning holes into him. "Would you like to come in?" You cross your arms over your chest, walking into his quarters. He had a few bowls of different snacks waiting on the table, the blanket you always stole from him draped across the back of the couch, and three of your favorite movies stacked on the coffee table for you to chose from.

"Terzo... Were you waiting for me?" He nods bashfully at your question, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sì, when I opened the door I was actually leaving to hunt down you and Primo. I-uh, I was really hoping you would agree to come. I feel like I never see you anymore." There it was, that stinging in your throat as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

"It's probably because you seem rather preoccupied with everyone besides me... I don't want to get in your way." You try your best to smile through the tightness in your chest, you could tell by the look on his face that Terzo could see the hurt in your eyes.

"This is about me flirting with other siblings isn't it?" He sighs, raking his hand through his hair. "(Y/N), I keep telling you that doesn't mean anything-"

"I find that pretty hard to believe Terzo, every Sibling I see you with gets your undivided attention." You start to mock him out of anger. "Cara mia, your eyes are like diamonds they shine so bright. Mi dolcezza, you look absolutely radiant every day."

"I don't understand why you're so upset by tha-"

"Because it's never me Terzo!" You took a small step back as the realization of what you just said sets in. "I..." You stutter, at an utter loss for words after that outburst. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, you tried your hardest to fight them back but it was no use. You collapse onto Terzo's couch, your face instantly dropping into your hands as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"(Y/N), I'm so sorry, I had no idea all of this was getting you so upset." He was instantly by your side, enveloping you in a hug as he pulled you to him. He gently hushes your crying, trying his best to soothe you. He gently takes your face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "Even when you're crying you're still so beautiful." He lets out a small breath of a laugh. You wanted to slap his hands away, instantly figuring that the only reason he was saying that was because he knew that you were upset he wasn't flirting with you specifically. But he had such a deep burning sincerity in his eyes, you couldn't possibly turn away. "I don't like seeing you upset bella, how do I fix this?" He pulled you to his chest, after a while you let your arms slide around his waist.

"I'm sorry I ruined your plans." You bury your face deeper against him.

"You didn't ruin anything cara mia." He gently runs his hand up and down your back. "Why don't we get on with our night, you and I can talk more after the movie, sì?" You nod, Terzo picks a movie off the table, something scary you were sure. He returned to your side moments later, a bowl of snacks now in hand. You smile at him, studying his face for a moment while he was focused on the TV.  "You're not paying attention to the movie." He says with a small smirk.

Both of you chuckle slightly, "Right, right, sorry." Terzo feigns a yawn, arm now comfortable resting on the back of your shoulders. "What, did you pick the scary movie so you can be the big, strong man?"  You tease. You nearly jumped backwards at Terzo's sudden closeness. If you turned your head you were positive your nose would touch his.

"You've made the unfortunate mistake of letting me know that you don't feel special to me." His breath was hot against your ear. "You're my sole focus after that." You couldn't stop a shiver from running down your spine. You caught Terzo smiling out of the corner of your eye, a small breath of a laugh leaving him. His attention turned back to the movie, you took the opportunity to cuddle into his side. It was nice being alone with him like this.

"Are you attracted to any of them... the other siblings, I mean." You mindlessly fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

"No." His answer was blunt and immediate. "I know you don't believe me, but flirting with all of them genuinely does mean nothing. It comes with the job." He pauses the movie, propping one leg up on his other knee as his full attention drifts to you. "The other siblings don't get to spend personal time with me, they only know me as Papa Emeritus the Third not Terzo... Not like you do." His voice drops to barely above a whisper before he continues. "(Y/N), there is not a single person in this Abbey, not a single person in the entire world is more special to me than you."

"Why have you never said anything?" You were hanging on every word that left his mouth. He shrugs slightly.

"I... I was scared, what if you didn't feel the same? What if being Papa's significant other was too much pressure? I want to give you the world cara mia, but I didn't know if I could." He shifts again, his body facing yours, hands held firmly in his. "But, after all this time worrying about what could happen, I've reached a moment of just letting go." Before you had a chance to react to what was happening Terzo's lips were on yours, a startled squeak leaving your person. You were frozen for a moment, your body reluctant about accepting that this was actually happening. But, the smell coming off of him was intoxicating, his skin warm underneath your fingers as they slowly began to make contact with his face, his lips delightfully sweet. Your hands slid down to his chest, pushing him back slightly. The kiss broke, both of your breathing heavy as you searched each others eyes.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Cara mia, I will marry you tomorrow if you'll have me." He smiles. "From now on you're all mine and I, yours."

"I love you Terzo." He slowly starts to lean into your again.

"I love you too my dear."

(A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to reach out for any requests or ideas, I love making friends! Hope you like it!)

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—requested by @colbysbrocks]

[1.8k] or, in which maybe your dead boyfriend isn’t very dead.

.

“You better have a good damn reason for dragging me out of bed at three in the morning.” 

Ever since the earthquake that completely turned Hawkins in on itself, things had been…strained between you and the people you cared about. 

You all lost a lot that night. You all lost more than you should have and it sucked that time and time again it had to be you all that put your lives on the line, that sacrificed so much to save a town that was so unaware of the true horrors that haunted it. It sucked big time. 

You sacrificed and you fought, and even after everything, you still lost. 

You still lost something. 

You wish you had been with Dustin and Eddie that night, but you weren’t. Shotgun in hand, you had joined Steve, Nancy and Robin to take down Vecna with your final chance. You had watched that bastard burn. You thought you had won. 

But any glimpse of happiness and relief was gone in seconds when you saw Dustin sobbing on the ground, an unconscious lump on his lap and dead demobats surrounding him. 

You felt your knees buckle and your heart stop. Everything was muffled and blurry and you don’t know if you screamed or cried or what, but all you knew is your head was pressed against Eddie’s cold, dead chest and you knew that you lost the love of your life. 

It had taken them ages to convince you to leave the body. It had taken them ages to tear you away from him, to let you say your last goodbye before you returned to your world when in all honesty you would’ve been happy if they left you there forever because nothing else mattered. 

Not when he was gone. 

You were a shell of yourself from that moment on. You flashed a smile when they asked if you were okay, you sat in the shitty hospital waiting room seats as you all patiently awaited news on Max. You let them think you were getting better when it was nothing further from the truth. 

You were breaking. You were broken. And no amount of half-assed phone calls and random ‘check ups’ from your friends were going to change that. 

You were pulling away from your friends and they all knew it. The fact you would let the phone just ring to voicemail. The fact you would let them knock on the door until they finally got the hint. The fact you stopped showing up at the school to help out the town in dealing with the earthquake. 

You just stopped caring. 

You just wanted to be alone. 

But when your phone started ringing at three in the morning and wouldn’t stop no matter how much you ignored it, you knew you had no other choice than to answer that. 

Instead of some sappy ‘we miss you’ speech like you were expecting, you found a very frazzled and rambling Dustin Henderson on the other side of the phone. You could barely catch what he was saying other than to meet him at the trailer park right now. 

You were left grumbling to yourself as you scoured through your messy room for a half decent outfit before grabbing your bike from the garage and making your way towards the trailer park—a place you hadn’t visited since the night Eddie died (something you also tried not to think about). 

When you arrived, it was hard to miss the sight of Steve and Dustin bickering outside the remains of Eddie’s trailer, wild hand movements and hissed whispers shared between them. 

“Please tell me you didn’t call me all the way here just to act as some sort of mediator,” you called out to them. “Go to family therapy. I don’t have time to deal with whatever argument you’re both having.” 

Both heads snapped towards you, eyes wide and lips parted like they had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your eyes narrowed in suspicion, looking between them as they both started rambling nonsense. 

“You’re here! It’s great to see you…after…uh…” 

“What he means to say is…you know what, I think Steve should be the one to say this.” 

“No, no! Dustin is the one who called—” 

“Because you told me to!” 

“Well I am playing the ‘older than you’ card so—”

“That is so not fair—” 

“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!” you snapped and watched as they quickly closed their mouths, staring at you with sheepish expressions on their faces. “Can one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on or else I’m getting my ass back on that bike and leaving.” 

Dustin looked between you and Steve before sighing. “Eddie is alive.” 

You froze, staring at the boy in front of you before scoffing. “I’m going,” you muttered as you picked up the handles of your bike, already making your way down the main trailer road. 

“No, wait—” 

“No!” you turned on your heel, unshed tears glossing over your eyes. “He died, Dustin. You saw that. I saw that. We all fucking saw it, so don’t stand there and tell me he’s alive when you know it’s not true.” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Well…I mean, technically speaking he’s…undead.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together. “What?” 

“Eddie,” Steve said with a sad smile. “He’s…undead. Not alive but not dead.” 

“What are you saying?” you whispered but the shiver running down your spine already gave you an idea. 

“He’s…he’s a vampire,” Dustin whispered. 

“A vampire,” you repeated, your eyes dropping to the ground as you tried to process what he was saying. Two years ago, you would’ve scoffed and said he was being stupid. But after everything you’d seen and experienced, a vampire didn’t seem so baffling anymore. 

“We don’t know how or why or—” Dustin let out a sigh, shaking his head. “He’s scared, and he’s confused. And I think you are what he needs.” 

“Why me?” 

Steve smiled. “Because vampire or not, he still loves you.” 

You knew about vampires, in the sense you had come across them. In books and movies, in video games and even some DnD campaigns Eddie or the boys would tell you about. But it was never a thing you considered to be…real. To be in your very life. To be the love of your life. 

Despite Steve’s insistence you should take his bat in for protection, you walked into the trailer empty-handed as your eyes darted around for any sight of your boyfriend. You tried to prepare yourself for what you would see, what he would be like. 

Maybe he wouldn’t even remember you. Or maybe he wouldn’t care. Or maybe he was no longer Eddie, just a whole other being in his body. Or maybe— 

“Hey baby.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes as your throat closed up, listening to a voice you dreamed of hearing everyday. You closed your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you swore you almost drew blood. 

“Is it you?” your shaky voice spoke up. 

“It’s me, doll.” 

With a shuddering breath, you slowly turned around and forced yourself to open your eyes, to face him head on. You couldn’t even control the sob that left your mouth when you saw him standing a few feet away from you. 

Eddie barely had a chance to react before you were throwing yourself at him, arms locked around him and your face hidden in his shoulder as you let go of the tears you were holding back. 

“Oh my god, you’re here. You’re here and you’re…oh my god, I thought I’d never see you again,” you cried into his shoulder, sniffles muffled by his t-shirt. 

“I’m here, baby, not going anywhere,” he murmured and you felt his hands resting on your back. “Couldn’t just leave my girl.”

“You did,” you muttered, not quite ready to lift your head. “You were meant to leave. You were meant to go through with Dustin.” 

Eddie laughed softly. “Didn’t wanna run anymore.” 

“I lost you,” you whispered, voice cracking and Eddie felt his heart cracking with it. He fell in love with you because you were so unexplainably unapologetic for who you were. You didn’t hold back, you had the confidence he could only dream of.  And now, you sounded so broken and meek and it was just not you, and he hated that he was the cause of it. 

“You’re never going to lose me again,” he promised you and slowly guided your head up so he could catch your gaze. “I’m never leaving you again, baby, you hear me?” 

But just like that you were lost for words as you finally took him in. 

He was still your Eddie. But there was something just…different about him. 

His features were sharper and his skin a little paler. The bags under his eyes looked a little more defined, and when you looked into those brown eyes you loved so much, you saw hints of red. But the biggest change was the sharp canines poking beneath his lip, so subtle you could almost miss it until he smiled. 

“Still love me?” And you knew he was only teasing, but you could hear the underlying doubt. The fear that you would pull away, see him for the monster he was. 

“I—” you paused as you slowly raised your hand, cupping his cheek as you brushed your thumb over his cold skin. “You’re beautiful.”  

“I’m a monster,” Eddie whispered back. 

“You are still you,” you shot back, suddenly a little more serious. 

Eddie let out a breath. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” he told you with a sad smile. “Or what I am.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not alone,” you said as your free hand dropped to catch one of his, squeezing him softly. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, eyebrows drawn together. “Or anyone.” 

“We will work this out, Eddie. Together.” 

He looked down at you with a soft expression on his face. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Better learn to accept it because I’m not going anywhere, Munson,” you retorted, heart racing wildly in your chest. “Not now, not ever. And I’m never letting you out of my sight.” 

His face broke out into a grin, fangs on display. “You say that like it’s a punishment.”

“Shut up,” you muttered as you tugged his head down to kiss him, only to pull back with a small wince a few seconds later. “Shit, that will take some getting used to.” 

Eddie ran his tongue along his teeth, the small drop of your blood exploding on his tongue in a way he had never quite experienced. His eyes glanced down at the small cut on your lip and he flashed you a sheepish expression. “Whoops?” 

“Just another thing for us to work out,” you said to him, smiling up at him. 

And he smiled back. “Together.”

.