#tiny frying pan

[acmeoop]

Hit On The Head With A Frying Pan "TT Music Television" (1991)

[gemini-queen42]

Told my friend I was planning to draw this & When I asked her why she immidiately deduced that Gaston was the one giving birth, she said (1: ive made related jokes b4, but two-) "you tend to punish men for their sins."

And we'll. Can't argue with that. Anyways, this meme:

Gaston please Beau was just born he hasn't had time to grow into his features yet... *

[Ref and rambling under cut]

Ref image:

(*Which Are mostly Gastons actually, just w/ Lefous height and build. (and even then, grown Beau has noticeably broader shoulders than Lefou lol))

(Srry This is the only real drawing of the lad I have but u get the vision)

The kid that Actually has mostly Lefou's features would probably be Birdy, who mostly just takes Gast's height & eye color

I would've added a mini comic bit of the girls saying stuff but I got lazy :P

[eulaliasims]

Jules: Oh shoot!

Jules decided to make grilled ribs for this Winter's Day celebration, but he overestimated how long they would take to cook just a little bit.

He decided to empty the vegetable crisper and make a big pan of chicken lo mein instead (and a layer cake for dessert, of course).

Problem solved, time for an afternoon nap with the dog before the party.

[lipstickontheglass1985]

never underestimate the power of the humble nutritious egg

[wavetapper]

and some may hate me for my chronic inattentiveness + the weird specific way I cook eggs. it has been said in fact

[ninjasmudge]

whats a food youve been really into lately?

this is so boring but probably flatbreads with various accompaniments 💥💥

one of my actual favourite meals is like curried chicken with salad on a flatbread and i often get some nice pre made flatbreads from a supermarket, but since theyre pretty quick to make i just make some and fry em in a pan sometimes.

flour, water, oil, with a bit of garlic power and melted butter in the pan when u fry, an it goes super well, i usually fill with salad and dry fried tikka spiced chicken, but sometimes i do it with a paprika/cumin based coating what goes really well if u put some mozzarella on the flatbread

lately this has been it for me lmao

[assassinbugs]

all with comfortable bedding & pillows and stuff ofc <3

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[apatheticsunday]

Cartoons and Cereal

AKA "Dick Grayson adopts recently de-aged Danny Nightingale. He doesn't anticipate Danny being a little... not entirely human." Prompt idea! Might be a multi-part series. :)

Dick never thought he'd be a parent at the age of 22 but the moment he saw Danny's feral little snarling face at the Bludhaven precinct, it's like he turned into Bruce Wayne. In more ways than one. Dick vividly remembers giving Bruce a heart attack by jumping from the manor's upper balcony onto the chandelier, how he cackled in glee at Bruce wide-eyed expression of terror. Watching Danny float off the couch and then drop in mid-air probably has Dick making the same expression as Bruce in that moment.

The frying pan clatters to the stovetop, pancakes flopping out, as Dick swings over the kitchen island and flings himself over the sofa - just in time to catch Danny before he brains himself on the coffee table. Dick doesn't catch himself before he releases a loud, terrified and relieved, "Fuck!" Danny immediately gasps and loudly proclaims sw'ar jar, sw'ar jar!

"I know, bud. I-," Dick squeezes Danny to his chest. His heart is still beating unbelievably fast and his palms are sweating. "Just give me a minute, okay, buddy?" This has to be some kind of revenge for all the stuff he put Bruce through as a kid. Danny squirms as Dick thinks about the next steps: obviously, he has to test for the meta gene, register with the state, and maybe get in touch with Clark about teaching Danny how to control his flying ability. But Clark will tell Bruce and Dick hasn't even told Bruce-

Danny bites him. Dick yelps, dropping the kid onto his sofa again, and thinks this is definitely payback as Danny cackles. Danny reaches his arms up and grins with a menacing little twinkle in his eye that definitely means pick me up so I can bite you again. Dick resists despite how cute (and terrifying) his kid looks. Then, he smells something burning. Specifically, their pancakes, which are now scattered on the floor and on the burning stove coils.

"Ah, shoot. I'm sorry, bud." They both stare at the burnt pancake before Danny starts poking the floor pancakes. Well. There goes the last of the instant pancake batter. After stopping Danny from eating the floor pancake (multiple times, eventually stacking a couple of his gym weights on top of the trash to Danny won't go digging in it), Dick proposes breakfast at the little brunch place downtown. Danny only grunts in answer because he's too busy struggling to lift the lid of the trashcan.

Haven Coffee it is.

He probably should've expected somebody to take their picture, but seeing the image of Dick and Danny plastered on the Gotham Herald's website makes his blood run cold. It's almost like a horror movie. Reading the news article (Golden Boy Richie Grayson following in his father's footsteps with adopted son Daniel Grayson... recently orphaned son of renowned scientists... suggesting a custody battle between absentee godfather and Gotham's Golden Boy...), Dick feels sick. He's never been violated like this in Bludhaven. In Gotham, as Bruce Wayne's son? Sure. In Bludhaven, as Dick Grayson? Never.

The picture is just as damning (and beautiful. Dick would frame it, keep it in his wallet and tucked into the mirror of his car, if it weren't such a violation of his and Danny's privacy). Dick and Danny look like they've lived together for years. Danny, chocolate smear on his cheek and looking up at Dick with sparkling sugar-crazed eyes. And Dick, propping the kid on his hip while they walk to the car, looking down and thumbing at the smear with such adoration that it's clear to anybody looking Dick loves his son dearly.

(Maybe Dick will frame it. He's still going to sue the shit out of Gotham Herald, but Danny's tiny face looks the happiest he's ever been. Double chocolate chip pancakes tend to do that.)

He's almost, almost surprised when his phone starts ringing as soon as he finishes the news article. Afterall, Dick is hardly the only one who reads the news and he knows half his siblings have alerts set for anytime their names pop up in civilian or vigilante identities. Tim's caller ID pops up, quickly followed by several texts from Barbara, Steph, and Duke. He knows Jason and Damian will probably take some time before reaching out. Dick feels a small twinge of guilt for not telling them, but they have a... complicated relationship. Dick has always been more of a parentified figure, solidified more so when Dick stepped in as Batman for a time, than a sibling.

Danny huffs out a heavy sigh on the couch next to him. He's still asleep from his sugar crash earlier, cuddling with his elephant Zitka and dog Haley, as Scooby Doo plays softly on the TV. Dick gently combs Danny's hair back from his face - grimacing slightly at sticky chocolate stuck to a couple strands, how did he manage that?? - when his phone dings for the last time.

This was the text Dick was waiting for.

Dinner tonight at 7pm. Bring Daniel.

Dick glances back to the grumbling lump beside him, smiling slightly as he tickles one small socked foot sticking out from the blanket. He gets a little bunny kick and a louder grumble for the trouble. Another ping and Dick's lips twitch at the hastily added Please. It looks like Alfred beat some common sense into Bruce after all.

He types back K and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. Pats the lump. "Danny, are you up for meeting grandpa?"

It's time to face the music.

(Danny sleeps for another thirty minutes before Dick can't resist bugging him, enduring bunny kicks and tired grumbles. It takes bribing Danny with Alfred's cookies and pizza for dinner to get him out of the blanket nest. Dick hastily calls Alfred to please, please, please make cheese pizza for dinner. Yes, Alfred, really, just cheese. Oh, god, thank you. See you later tonight. They have just enough time to wrestle an owl-eyed Danny into the bath and some non-chocolate-smeared clothing before dinner.)

[the-violet-diaries]

Sylus x insecure yet adorable f!mc

warnings: tickling, fluff

Just thinking about a shy or insecure mc who never or very rarely laughs out loud, like an audible sound, but instead covers her mouth, shakes a lot and makes soft snickering or gentle tittering noises. No doubt, Sylus loves those cute little sounds and makes it his sole purpose in life to make you laugh whenever he can and finds every chance to hear your breathy giggles, but he really wishes he could hear what your actual laugh sounds like and hates that you always hide your face with the back of your hand.

So when he finally discovers that tickling you- even the slightest poke on your stomach or side- is enough to elicit your true, unfiltered laughter, he almost faints. Drops dead. Worships your sensitivity to his touch- oh lord it's his own touch how blessed is he- and finds it absolutely fucking adorable. Finding every and any minor excuse or reason to pounce on you and tickle you (gently, of course) till you're breathless and your softly heaving chest rests upon his rapidly beating one. Because the second he hears the almost nectarine melody that flows from your soft parted lips, your small figure quivering in his arms and tiny hands grabbing at his as you attempt to put up a weak fight against him, he immediately disconnects from any and every other noise around him, honing his hearing purely onto your sweet, oh so honey-sweet laughter.

And the moment he sets eyes on that twinkling wide smile, those rosy red tinted cheeks, disheveled hair, and half-closed eyelids that take the shapes of upside-down crescent moons, your chin tilted back and neck scrunching up occasionally when his teasing fingers brush up against the skin around the area, Sylus instantly melts. A hopeless goner. Like butter in a frying pan under steaming hot temperatures. Because oh he is so down bad. Addicted. Intoxicated with your music that needs no rhythm because it has one of its own. He locks this valuable secret within his heart and throws the damn key to hell, swears to never let anyone else discover it. Because this is your own little thing, something intimate to be shared and cherished between just the two of you. Something precious. Praying to the gods because oh thank the lord that he can finally, finally hear his kitten's true laughter and see her smile so unhidden. So genuine. So real.

[boygirlctommy]

despite everything its still you…

[yuyusbabygirl]

Darling Mine

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.35k

content warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Yunho, sub!reader, reader is tied up, oral (fem receiving), choking, safe sex, slight possessiveness, aftercare

summary: You spend the night at your boyfriend's place for the first time and he really likes it when you wear his clothes

You wake up alone in Yunho’s bed. He must’ve already gotten up. As you lay there, you think back to last night. It was the first night you spent at your boyfriend’s apartment after dating for a month. You both decided to take things slow.

“I want to do this right. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you so we have all the time in the world,” he said to you when you asked why he had never tried to initiate anything sexual.

Truth be told, it had scared you. You had never been with a guy so honest about his intentions, so all in. You thought he simply might not want you in that way. He sure proved you wrong last night. He had taken you out on a date because you had both not seen each other for a week due to work. Yunho had taken you on a picnic in the park where he had first met you. You had both talked for hours, catching up on each other’s lives, feeding each other bits of food. A sudden rain shower had forced you two to run to his apartment, giggling the whole way. You were both drenched when you arrived. You had stood in his hallway, breathing heavily as you looked at each other. Yunho had walked to you, taking you into his arms and slowly started kissing you. You undressed each other carefully and he carried you to his bed.

As you lay there now, still naked, you couldn’t help but touch your lips. You remember how softly he kissed you, like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched. A soft giggle escapes you. He was soft and gentle the whole night, constantly praising you, bringing you over the edge multiple times before he even thought of his own pleasure. It was unusual for you. Not that guys before him had been horrible in bed, you just never had sex with a guy that cared so much about your pleasure than his own. You had fallen asleep in his arms for the first time and as you lay there now you decide you never want to sleep anywhere else again.

Deciding you can’t lay in bed forever, you sit up. You look around Yunho’s room but remember how you stripped off in the hallway. You see his favorite flannel hanging over his gaming chair and put it on. It is already oversized on Yunho so you completely drown in it. But it is soft and it smells like him.

You make your way to the kitchen where you see Yunho struggling with the frying pan. Oh no, he’s trying to cook. Bad idea. He had tried to cook for you for your second date and burned the rice. You have no idea how someone can burn rice but you decided that Yunho should never cook again.

“Hey, you really think you should be cooking? We both know what happened last ti-“ you did not get to finish your sentence because as soon as you spoke Yunho looked up and saw you. Tousled hair from last night, his hickeys still on your neck. And you in his clothes. Before you could reprimand him more for attempting to cook he was on you. He grabbed your face and kissed you, pushing you back against the wall.

The kiss was messy and desperate. A stark contrast to last night. Last night he wanted to be soft and gentle because it was your first night together. He had no mind for soft and gentle now after seeing you in his clothes. You looked so fucking tiny. So fucking soft. And so fucking his.

One of his hands moves from your face to your hair, roughly tugging it back so he could deepen the kiss, while the other moves to your bare thigh. He slides his hand upwards and let out a possessive growl when he realizes you were naked underneath. He had always known that he was possessive over you. The first time he gave you his jacket when you were cold he nearly threw his promise of taking things slow out the window. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in his favorite flannel, walking out of his bedroom after he made love to you the whole night.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carries you back to his bed. His lips never leave yours, messily licking into your mouth, swallowing your mewls that went straight to his cock.

As he throws you down his bed you gasp and look up at him. You had suspected that there was more to your lovely boyfriend than this sweet and gentle façade. As you lay there breathlessly he looks down at you, his expression dark with a possessive glint that you had seen in his eyes once or twice before. But he had always covered it up very quickly. It seems he was finally done holding back.

You go to undo the buttons of the flannel before he stops you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he grunts out. His low tone and the dominance in his eyes make your stomach flip.

Fuck, how was he supposed to hold back when you looked at him like that? Wide eyes, lips parted. So submissive and all for him. He slowly crawled on top of you, keeping eye contact.

“You will keep my shirt on while I fuck you. You will not hold back any noises and you will do as I say. Understood?” he demands.

You nod.

“Use your words,” he snarls as he grips your jaw.

“Yes, Yunho,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he drawls as he pats your face.

This new side of him made you incredibly wet. You had always enjoyed being told what to do in bed but Yunho was so effortlessly dominant that it took all your strength not to fall too hard into subspace. Another time. When you both talked about your limits more.

“Give me your wrists,” he holds out his hand as he waited for you to comply. You offer him your wrists and he pushed them above your head before you felt rope around them. He ties them quickly to his headboard and looks down at you, satisfied.

He leans in and kisses you again, rougher than before. His mouth moves to your ear where he whisperes “If you want me to stop, say goldfish.”

You hum in agreement and he begins licking and biting at your neck, determined to give you new marks. His hand grips your hair again and pulls your head back so abruptly that you cry out.

“Yes, let me hear you. Fuck, let the whole neighborhood hear how good I am making you feel, that you’re mine,” he chuckles in your ear.

He sits back on his heels and roughly grips your thighs before spreading them. The sight of your wet cunt elicits a growl from him. He couldn’t wait to fuck you again. He leans down to your cunt and licks a long stripe through your folds. The moan you let out nearly sends him over the edge. You throw your head back, tugging at the restraints.

“Look at me,” he barks at you.

You look down into his eyes. His expression is full of lust as he licks you again, not letting you look away. You try to close your legs around his head but his grip on your thighs is too strong.

You whine as he continues to lick at your pussy before he suddenly sucks on your clit. Your back flies off the bed as you let out a high pitched moan of his name. You can feel him grunt into your pussy, pleased by your reaction. Yunho grips your thighs tighter as he hikes them up further and pushes them towards your chest. The position leaves your cunt pressed up to his face as he continues to devour you. You can feel your climax approaching fast and hard but before you can reach it he pulls away.

“Noo, please,” you whine and feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as he steals your orgasm.

He chuckles darkly at your pathetic whines. He waits until you stop twitching before continuing his assault on your pussy. He licks between your folds with vigor and looks straight at you when his teeth close slightly around your clit. The tears you let out make his cock twitch. He had never seen a prettier sight. He runs his tongue over your clit but pulls away as he feels the telltale twitches of your approaching orgasm.

“Please, please let me cum,” you cry as he steals yet another orgasm from you.

“I decide when you cum. Now take what I give you,” he grins at you sadistically before attaching his mouth back to your cunt.

You can’t hold back the mewls and tears as Yunho robs you of yet another orgasm. By the fourth denied orgasm you’re a complete mess. Tears are streaming down your face, drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth and you’re pretty sure the sheets underneath you are soaked.

“Beg,” he commands.

“Please, Yunho. Please, I need to cum. I can’t take it anymore, please. Please, I need you. Please, please,” you beg him, words slurring together.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you cum,” he strokes your face and you could weep in relief, “but you’ll do it on my cock”.

Yunho moves back up your body, running his hand over your stomach and boobs, still hidden by his flannel and another surge of possessiveness flows through him. He shrugs off his shirt and boxers and you pull at your restraints, wanting to touch him.

He leans over you to get a condom from his nightstand and rolls it onto his length. He had to stretch you out last night to ensure you can take him but with four orgasms denied from you, you are more than ready to take him now.

He puts your legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up with your cunt. You whine as he rubs his tip over your clit and he chuckles, “What is it, princess?”.

“Please, Yunho. Fuck me,” you moan out.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets,” he mutters before thrusting into you. He growls and grunts as he feels your tight cunt gripping him and before you can warn him you cum on his cock.

His mouth opens in awe and he watches you twitch around him.

“Shit, baby. One thrust and you cum already? Are you that desperate?” he coos at you in fake sympathy, knowing fully well how needy you were. He doesn’t give you time to come down from your high and immediately sets a rough pace. His hand goes to your throat, not squeezing just yet. His thrusts are deep and hard and you try hard not to scream. His hand on your throat makes everything feel more intense and you want him to choke you but can’t form any coherent sentence. You tighten your legs around his waist, already feeling another orgasm coming. The only word you can form is his name which only fuels his need to make you cum again.

“Give me another, pretty girl. I know you can cum again for me. You were so desperate to cum just now so fucking do it,” his low growls make it impossible not to comply and you hold on to the ropes tied around your wrists as you cum again.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so good for me, my princess. All for me. Say it,” he squeezes your throat as he continues his hard and unforgiving pace.

“F-fuck, y-yours, Yunho. All y-yours,” you stutter out, not able to speak correctly with his hard strokes and his hand around your throat.

Your moans and tears nearly make him cum but he’s determined to make you cum one more time. He brings a hand to your cunt and begins rubbing your clit hard and fast. You squeal so loudly that he’s sure the neighbors can hear you but that only fuels his need to make you scream.

“Cum again. Cum for me, my pretty girl,” he bites out, holding back from cumming just yet.

His ministrations on your clit, his hard thrusts, his voice and the sight of him all sweaty above you lead to you cumming harder than you did before. You whimper out his name, not even able to scream anymore. As he feels you cum again, he quickly pulls out and pulls the condom off. He strokes himself and shoots onto your pussy and lower stomach, some of it getting onto his flannel. The sight of you in his flannel and now covered in his cum nearly make him hard again. He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard. Yunho nuzzles his nose into your neck, softly kissing you before reaching up and untying your wrists. He takes you into his arms and holds you close.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, softly rubbing your wrists. You nod, tired but happy. “You need to tell me if I was too rough with you,” he looks at your face, searching for any sign of subdrop. You smile at him and put your hand on his cheek.

“You were perfect, Yunho,” you reassure him. He relaxes and peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He presses one last kiss to your nose before getting up and bringing a cloth so he can clean you up. You sigh softly as he wipes up both of your cum from between your legs.

“I did not know wearing your clothes would have this effect on you,” you say as you watch him dutifully clean you. He chuckles a bit as he finishes up and tosses the cloth to the side.

“What can I say, I’m crazy about you,” he says before he kisses you lovingly.

hope you like it, thoughts are always welcome

[yuujispunches]

The sorcerer, the kid and the one who stayed. ~ S.G.

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader.

Summary: Satoru Gojo had always been a handful but when he suddenly appeared on your doorstep with a fed-up eight ear old it’s the final straw.

CW (content warning): Gojo and little Megumi bickering, little Megumi being an absolute menace, reader and Gojo being painfully obvious, mutual pinning, found family trope, nothing else really this is teeth rotting fluff.

AN (author’s note): As always a reminder that English is not my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Your peaceful life ended with a knock on your door. Not the hurried kind of someone in danger, nor the loud kind of someone bringing news. It was the knock of a man who didn’t know how to ask for help without pretending it was no big deal.

When you opened the door, Gojo stood there, hair wet from rain, blindfold askew, and holding a small, scowling child by the hood like a misbehaving cat.

“Hey.” He said, sheepishly. “You busy?”

That was the beginning of everything.

You had been friends with Gojo since the first week at Jujutsu Tech. Both teenagers with too much power and too many expectations, you clung to each other like lifelines. You laughed through injuries, cried after missions, and held each other together when everything fell apart. Riko, Suguru, everything. You loved him, even then, but never dared say it. And Gojo, ever the coward in his own way, never said it either. Both of you too afraid that saying those words out loud would make the only person who had been constant in your lives disappear as well.

But then he brought you Megumi Fushiguro, and that changed everything.

“You kidnapped a child.” You deadpanned looking between Gojo and the small kid.

“I didn’t kidnap him I rescued him!” Satoru retorted as if he was offended.

“You appeared, told me you knew my father and dragged me to Tokyo” Megumi said looking absolutely done with the white-haired manchild that stood beside him.

“Please get in before the police comes” You sighed, opening your door for them. From that moment on Megumi had decided that he liked you.

——————————————————————————

“Y/N,” Gojo whined from the couch, flopped dramatically across the cushions like a Victorian widow. “He’s ignoring me again.”

You were at the kitchen counter, stirring rice and not even trying to hide your smirk. “He’s eight, Satoru. That’s what kids do when they have taste.”

Megumi, seated at the table and drawing a surprisingly accurate picture of Gojo being hit with a frying pan, didn’t look up. “She’s right.”

“See?!” Gojo sat up, pointing at the boy. “He’s turning you against me. This is mutiny.”

You turned around and gave Megumi a conspiratorial wink. “You say ‘mutiny,’ I say ‘good parenting.’”

Megumi nodded solemnly and went back to sketching Gojo with an increasingly ridiculous mustache. “I made you a new face.” He informed the man in question, holding up the drawing.

Gojo squinted. “Is that… is that me wearing clown makeup?”

“Yup.” Megumi said, clearly pleased with himself as he looked at his creation. “It’s realistic.”

Gojo slumped further into the couch, moaning. “He’s been here for three weeks and already he’s roasting me like I’m a side of beef.”

You walked over, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And yet you keep coming back for more.”

Megumi beamed up at you, completely ignoring Gojo’s exaggerated gasps of betrayal. He leaned against your side, hugging your waist like he’d done it a hundred times.

“Do I have to eat vegetables tonight?” He asked sweetly.

You brushed his hair back. “Just a few, okay?”

“Okay.” He said, because you asked.

Gojo muttered under his breath “Unbelievable. You’re like a tiny, grouchy cat that only loves one person. And that person’s not me.”

Megumi stuck out his tongue as you found yourself thinking that maybe this whole mess wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be.

——————————————————————————

At first, Gojo had been reluctant to admit he needed help. When he took in Megumi, he thought he could manage it, like everything else, through sheer force of will. But parenting wasn’t a cursed technique, and the boy was grieving, prickly, and deeply guarded.

Gojo could handle curses. Emotional vulnerability? Not so much. That’s where you came in.

You made routines. You learned which snacks Megumi liked dango, not mochi, when to give him space, when to gently press, and how to coax laughter from him with the smallest things. Gojo watched it all in stunned silence, like someone witnessing a miracle. And somewhere along the line, “helping out” turned into “coming over every day,” and “sleeping on the couch sometimes” became “you basically live here now.”

Gojo never said a word about it. He just set out a mug for you in the mornings next to his own, which made your heart melt the first time you found it.

——————————————————————————

One rainy afternoon, Gojo burst into the kitchen dramatically. “He insulted my sunglasses.”

Megumi, sitting on the floor doing homework, didn’t even look up. “They’re stupid.”

“They’re iconic.” Gojo corrected, clutching his chest. “The height of sorcerer fashion.”

“They make you look like a bug.” Megumi replied. You tried very hard not to snort tea up your nose.

Gojo turned to you for backup. “Y/N. My emotional support. My confidante. Tell the child he’s wrong.”

You took one good look at him, pretending to pause and analyse his appearance before saying “You do kind of look like a cicada.”

Megumi shot a fist into the air in triumph.

Gojo stared at you both in betrayal, then sighed like a man aged by war. “This is what I get for raising the next generation. Ingrates and traitors.”

Megumi leaned against your side again, his voice soft. “Can you stay tonight?”

Gojo froze mid-rant. His eyes darted to yours.

You smiled down at the boy, brushing his hair away from his face. “Of course I can.”

Gojo cleared his throat. “You know, technically I live here, but sure, make yourself at home.”

“You sleep like a starfish.” Megumi muttered. “You don’t count.”

Gojo pointed a dramatic finger. “That’s it. You’re going to boarding school.”

Satoru pretended to be offended but when he saw you sitting by Megumi’s bed reading him a bedtime story he wished that was what the rest of his life would look like.

——————————————————————————

That night, after Megumi had gone to bed, only after you read him two whole chapters of a book about a dragon who only wanted to nap giving the characters dramatic voices and everything, Gojo hovered in the hallway, quiet in a way that never sat right on him.

You were cleaning up the kitchen when he finally spoke.

“You’re really good with him.” He said. “Better than me.”

You turned, drying your hands on a towel. “You’re doing fine, Satoru. He’s just… still figuring out who he can trust.”

“I’ve lost so many people.” Gojo said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I’ll mess this up too.”

You crossed the room and took his hand. “You’re not alone this time.”

He looked at you really looked at you and something in his posture softened. “I don’t think I’d be standing without you.”

You smiled. “Then don’t try standing without me.”

He blinked at you, and for once, had no comeback. Just a quiet “Okay.” It was easy really, he had already made himself that promise years ago.

——————————————————————————

A week later, everything came to a head over a bowl of miso soup.

Gojo had made dinner. That was mistake number one.

Megumi stared at the bowl with deep suspicion. “What is that?”

“It’s food.” Gojo said proudly. “Made by yours truly. You should feel blessed.”

Megumi poked the surface with his chopsticks. “It looks like a curse.”

“Eat it or starve,” Gojo replied cheerfully.

Megumi turned to you. “Please help.” A pleasing look on his face.

You sighed, crouching beside him. “Megumi, just one bite, and then you can have a cookie.”

He perked up. “Two cookies.”

“One and a half.” You countered.

“Deal.” He beamed at you as he shook your hand.

Gojo watched the exchange with mounting horror. “How come you can negotiate with him and I can’t?”

“Because she doesn’t threaten to feed me expired pudding.” Megumi replied dryly.

Gojo turned to you. “You’re raising a smartass.”

You kissed Megumi’s head. “I’m very proud of that fact.”

——————————————————————————

That night, as you tucked Megumi into bed, he held onto your hand tightly.

“I don’t want you to go.” He whispered.

Your heart squeezed. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Like always.”

“No.” he said. “I mean I want you to stay. Forever. Like… with us.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. “Megumi…”

“I like you better than Gojo.” He added, completely serious.

A laugh burst from your chest. “That’s not hard.”

“But he likes you.” Megumi went on. “A lot. He looks at you the same way he looks at sweets.”

You froze.

“He’s too dumb to say it, but I can tell.” The boy continued, burying his face in your arm. “So… if you like him too, maybe tell him? So you don’t end up being dumb together.”

You smiled into his hair. “You’re very wise for someone who just tried to flush broccoli down the sink.”

“I panicked.” He shrugged.

——————————————————————————

You found Gojo sitting on the back porch, eyes lifted to the stars. You stood behind him a moment, then walked over and sat down beside him.

“He told me to tell you.” you said quietly.

Gojo glanced at you, confused. “Tell me what?” Your expression was serious and his heart pounded harder in his chest.

“Megumi. He said you’re dumb and that I should tell you.” You joked, trying to ease the tension a bit.

He snorted. “That little gremlin.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “He also said you like me.”

Gojo’s mouth opened. Closed. “Well. That’s… obvious, I thought.”

You blinked, absolutely astounded at the fact that he admitted it so easily. “Excuse me?”

He looked over at you, blue eyes serious under the moonlight. “I’ve been in love with you since year one. I just… never thought I was allowed to have something like that.”

You exhaled slowly, heartbeat rattling. “Me too.”

He reached over, brushing your cheek with one hand. “Then let’s not be dumb anymore.”

You kissed him.

It was soft and slow and full of every quiet moment that had passed between you over the years. When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“So…” He whispered, grinning. “Are we like… Mom and Dad now?”

“Only if we’re the kind of parents who let their kid roast them to oblivion.”

He laughed. “That’s parenting, babe.”

——————————————————————————

The next morning, Megumi walked into the kitchen, took one look at the two of you Gojo making pancakes, you perched on the counter wearing his hoodie.

“Took you long enough.” He said, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

Then he slid onto a stool and asked. “Can I have extra syrup, Mom?”

Gojo promptly choked on his coffee.

You just smiled, leaned down, and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Of course, sweetie.” You answered, trying to keep tears at bay.

Gojo groaned. “This house is rigged against me.”

Megumi smirked. “Deal with it, old man.”

Gojo sighed. “I’m going to live with you for the next ten years, aren’t I?”

“Yup.” You and Megumi, in perfect unison.

And honestly? Gojo wouldn’t have had it any other way.

tags: @chocalycake

taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[clumsiestgiantess]

The borrowers in the walls:

imagine being a giant who finds a tiny and you have a tumultuous beginning but they do stay with you and gradually begin to trust you, and that trust blossoms into friendship, and soon you are spending more time together and they decide one night to sleep on your pillow instead of the makeshift matchbox bed on your nightstand, and it’s intimate and lovely and beautiful, and when you awake in the morning you see their tiny figure curled on your pillow bathed in the morning light, and you carefully slip out of bed and into the kitchen to make a breakfast to surprise them when they wake, and you try painfully hard to be quiet because you know your giant movements are already so massive and booming to them, but while getting a frying pan for the eggs you drop it and the stainless steel clatters to the ground in the fucking loudest noise ever. you woke them up dipshit. way to go.

[himasgod]

Hello! Can I ask the voracious Sebek? Something like, "I can't feed my boyfriend. I think he's about to eat our whole house and me too" (he is a crocodile after all 😂) If I may, the reader is Lilia's daughter and complained to him.

SEBEK X READER

Where Sebek is voracious

Where you complain to your father about your boyfriend's insatiable appetite

You slam the dorm pantry shut with the force of a woman on the brink of a breakdown.

“Lilia!” you call across the Diasomnia, tone shrill and desperate.

“I think Sebek’s about to eat the entire dorm. And possibly me. Help.”

Your tiny bat-like father pokes his head out from the hallway, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh dear. Is my future son-in-law going feral again?”

You stare blankly at him.

“He ate three packs of curry puffs, five steamed buns, a whole roast chicken and then looked at me like I was dessert.”

From behind you, the unmistakable sound of stomping boots shakes the floor, followed by a deep growl that is far too reptilian.

“Dear…!” Sebek’s voice rumbles as he enters the room, eyes wild and glowing faintly with hunger. “Did you… make more food? I can smell something—!”

“I didn’t even cook yet!” you scream, holding up a frying pan like a shield.

“You already ate all the rice, the leftovers, and Silver’s emergency snacks!”

“They were not clearly labeled!”

“They had his face drawn on them!”

Sebek puffs up his chest, indignant.

“A mighty warrior cannot be bound by mortal snacks when his metabolism requires fuel! My strength must be maintained to guard Lord Malleus! And you!”

“I appreciate the chivalry,” you deadpan, backing away slowly, “but if you eat one more cabinet I’m locking you in the forest with some jerky and a prayer.”

“Child, you do realize crocodiles eat like once a week in the wild, right?” Lilia says with a snicker, floating beside you with a cup of tea he clearly has no intention of sharing.

“Not this crocodile!” you hiss.

Sebek suddenly scoops you up like a prize, holding you close. His eyes narrow as he dramatically sniffs your hair.

“...You smell like sweet potatoes.”

“I’m made of 60% blood and 40% trauma, Sebek, I assure you I am not food.”

He pauses. “You also smell like garlic butter.”

“STOP THAT.”

Lilia giggles behind his cup. “

Ah, young love. So precious. So edible.”

[artaxlivs]

Which came first? The chicken or the scrambled eggs?

Rated E: Smut below the line, link to the Ao3 is here.

"Boy, you know I love you, right?" Uncle Wayne says gruffly over his favorite Garfield mug.

Oh jeez.

Eddie wracks his brain trying to figure out what Wayne's figured out this time. The drug deals? He'd thought they were both silently agreeing that they knew but wouldn't speak of those. The Upside Down? Nah, Eddie covered that pretty well, gave the same bullshit story the Feds did. Maybe something mundane like Eddie not doing his dishes?

That's an age-old argument right there.

Damn it.

"I know you do, old man," Eddie sighs, finally just deciding to take whatever it is on the chin. "Say what you wanna say."

There's a brief pause while Uncle Wayne must gather his thoughts - and the irrational swoop of Eddie's stomach over that is gonna give him nightmares because his abandonment issues are wide and deep - then Wayne clears his throat and says, "Whoever it is that you been leaving in your bedroom to sneak out after I fall asleep every morning...you can just invite him out for breakfast with us."

Eddie chokes on his own coffee. Well, sort of coffee - it's a lot of sugar and milk with a splash of coffee.

Not her. Him. They've never talked about it but Eddie knows Wayne has always had his suspicions. But he wasn't ready to have this conversation before the sun was even all the way up.

Before Eddie can finish coughing down his throatful of coffee, though, Wayne is shouting, "Eddie's boyfriend - you can come out and have some eggs if you want!"

A loud thump and the sound of someone obviously scrambling up from a bed comes from Eddie's room. "Yes, sir."  A muffled voice calls back.

Staring down the short hallway in horror, Eddie has a minor freak out. Okay - major freak out. But silently and quickly because...ohhhh this tangled web he’s woven for himself....

"Jesus Christ, Wayne." Eddie shakes his head before dropping it on the formica tabletop. He doesn't have to look up to know that Wayne is smiling that little smile that he gets when he proves that he's still smarter than Eddie is sneaky.

Wayne pulls open the fridge and gets the eggs back out, adding three more to the mixing bowl to whisk up.

Eddie still doesn't lift his head when Steve comes out of the bedroom because he just cannot bear to meet Steve's eyes. He eventually does look up, though, when he hears Wayne swear under his breath and nearly drop the frying pan.

"Ain't you the Harrington boy?" Wayne asks, looking a little dazed, obviously not expecting Steve Harrington to be standing barefoot, wearing one of Eddie's band T-shirts and a pair of his own sweats, in their tiny trailer kitchen, hastily shaping his hair into order as he reaches his hand out to shake.

"Yes, sir. And, um, I'd appreciate it if you kept that between us," Steve suddenly looks smaller, "for now, at least. I'm not sure what my dad...um, well." He worries his bottom lip and crosses his arms over his chest protectively, tucking his hands tight against his body. "I just - I don't think he'd approve. My - my dad."

Approve of what? Slumming it in a trailer park with a petty drug dealer? Because contrary to what Wayne thinks, Steve is not Eddie's boyfriend. They sleep together but not together. It's just for the nightmares. Sleeping alone sucks.

Wayne is nodding, though, the crease between his eyebrows the only thing giving away that he's upset about what he's hearing. Eddie's really not sure what he's thinking but he doesn't ask because maybe - just maybe - if no one asks anything specific, they can get out of this breakfast without Eddie being outed or any of them being embarrassed.

Because, contrary to Wayne’s assumption, Steve does not know that Eddie is gay. Or that the all night spooning they've been doing for weeks now is not as platonic for Eddie as it is for Steve. Eddie's not crossing any boundaries or anything creepy or anything, he's just...pining. It's fine. He'll get over it.

If they get through this breakfast without Eddie being outed, at least.

Steve, of course, offers to help but Wayne turns him down, nudges him toward the coffee pot to pour himself a mug instead. Which he does. Scoffing incredulously, Eddie gets up and swipes the mug from him, pouring it’s contents into Wayne's almost empty mug before setting it in the sink and taking out a clean plastic cup with a faded Charlie Brown & Linus on it.

"Sit." He tells Steve and reaches into the fridge for the orange juice he knows Steve prefers. He ignores the arched eyebrow Wayne aims at him. Mind your business, old man.

Breakfast is just scrambled eggs and toast. It's quick and not too heavy so Wayne can go to sleep after. It's always been the one meal they're guaranteed to have together. Even when most teenagers were sleeping in until ten am or noon, Eddie has always gotten up around 6:30 because Wayne's shift ends at six and he comes straight home and takes a shower, then they have breakfast together.

"So...Mr. Munson-" Steve starts after he swallows a drink of his juice and settles into one of the cracked vinyl chairs.

"Just Wayne, kid," Wayne insists gruffly, setting the pan of eggs down on a pot holder on the table.

"Oh - sorry," Steve says, letting his eyes fall away. It's weird, seeing him cowed by Wayne. Steve doesn't normally do that with adults. He's a charmer. He charms them all. Mrs. Wheeler would force Nancy to marry Steve if she could and Mrs. Henderson thinks that Steve is the second coming.

"Don't gotta be sorry...Steve. Just - call me Wayne." He comes back with a plate of toast. The butter and jam are already on the table. Eddie loads up his plate knowing Steve will do the polite thing and take less than him.

Clearing his throat, Steve nods, "Yes sir - W-Wayne." He stumbles over the first name but then keeps going - "I was just wondering...about the hats? And the mugs?" He looks around like he's taking them all in for the first time.

With a little smile, Wayne looks from the rows of hats and mugs to Steve and then back again. "Those are all Eddie." He doesn't elaborate but Steve's already nodding with a warm smile.

"I had a feeling." Steve nods again, slathering jam on a slice of toast. "Let me guess - this is him taking the joke way too far?"

The sound that comes out of Wayne can really only be called a chortle. There's nothing else that fits. Eddie is so glad his mouth was empty because it's like nothing he's ever heard from Wayne and he would have choked on his food. As it is, he makes a little offended squawk that they both ignore.

"Yup. You know him well I see." Wayne nods at Eddie but looks at Steve. "He got me this Garfield mug and a matching hat for his first Christmas here and I didn't want to disappoint him so I went a little overboard about how much I loved them. Wore the hat and used the mug religiously." He lifts the Garfield mug up for a sip and lifts an eyebrow at Eddie.

Steve knocks his knee against Eddie's under the table and when Eddie looks over at him, he’s smiling a fond smile at Eddie. He ducks his head to hide what he knows is a blush on his cheeks, letting Wayne and Steve steer the conversation where they want for the rest of the meal.

It’s not until they’re washing up and Wayne’s waved goodnight to them both, that Eddie speaks again. He bumps his hip into Steve’s as Steve finishes washing and rinsing the plastic cup and hands it over for Eddie to dry. “Sorry about that.”

Sliding the egg pan into the soapy water, Steve dries his hands off on a towel, leaving the pan to soak and turns to Eddie, hip propped against the counter. ‘For what?” Steve asks, confusion evident on his face.

He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to steer Steve away from the flashing neon arrow pointing to Eddie that screams “GAY” without giving himself away if Steve hasn’t gotten that idea. “Um, just Wayne and your dad and - you know, all of this.” He waves his hand around in a general all encompassing circle to include the trailer, his life and Eddie himself.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Eddie is pretty sure Steve asks but it’s so unexpected that his brain almost comes to a screeching halt.

“W-what?”

“I asked,” Steve says, removing the scant foot of space between them by sliding along the edge of the counter, “if you wanted to kiss me?”

Eddie swallows, a lifetime of fear balled up in his throat. It has long since threatened to choke him but this time he pushes through it. Because dammit - he’s jumped into a lake and swam after 3 other teenagers he barely knew, he’s tromped through an alternate dimension, he’s played Metallica in hell and outran a horde of demon bats. He’s faced a fucking Lich with nothing but handmade weapons. He can do this. He can.

“Yes,” it’s barely a whisper and made through trembling lips but Steve hears it because he smiles, warm and soft and the next thing Eddie knows, their lips are pressed together and yes, yes, yes. Steve’s lips are just as warm and soft as his smile and just a little demanding as he pushes past Eddie’s and slips his tongue into Eddie’s mouth. 

Steve Harrington tastes like orange juice and possibilities. And before Eddie can decide what to do with that, Steve is dragging him down the hallway and back into his messy, unmade too small bed. He’s pressing Eddie down on his back and leaning over him to kiss him again. He’s rolling his hips against Eddie’s, brushing their hard cocks together in a way that makes Eddie’s toes curl.

And it feels like every night they laid here together, whispering into each other’s shoulders, every night they spent cocooned in safety, every brush of skin on skin was foreplay, was flirting, was courting - that all of it was a lead up to this moment where they could slip easily from friendship to something more.

Eager and keyed up, Eddie pushes Steve’s sweats down to his thighs, follows by shoving his own down as well. Copying Steve’s movement when he yanks off his shirt and then they’re skin to skin, dicks rubbing against each other as they both grind and chase their pleasure together. Steve shifts, putting his thigh between Eddie’s and cupping his ass to pull him forward and there it is, they’re slotted together just right. 

Eddie feels a little zing of pleasure up his back as he ruts against Steve. They haven’t stopped kissing long enough for Eddie to even moan Steve’s name but it’s fine, it’s great, he’s so close already, just a bit more, he’s almost there. He thrusts up and Steve squeezes his ass again, pushing their bodies together. His hand slips around, dipping  between Eddie’s cheeks, sliding one finger down his cleft until it presses against his hole where, sure, he has touched, but no one else has. Steve slipping just the tip of one finger into Eddie is enough to send him tumbling over the edge with a muffled shout.

Eddie’s still twitching through the aftershocks when Steve moves his hand back to Eddie’s hip, Steve holds him still so he can thrust into the sticky mess that Eddie’s made between them. “That was, fuck, so hot,” Steve swears before he clamps his mouth to Eddie’s again, pulling a whine from him just before Steve comes with his own shout swallowed up by Eddie’s mouth.

Slowly, their breathing returns to normal, the sweat cools on their skin and Steve languidly traces one finger through the mess as it starts to stick to Eddie’s treasure trail. Finally, when Eddie can think clearly again, he asks, “So I guess this means you’re not worried that Wayne thinks you’re my boyfriend?”

“Worried?” Steve grins up at him from where he’s resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I think we should make him dinner before he goes to work as a thank you.” He rolls up, propping a hand on either side of Eddie’s chest to look down at him with a fond smile, “I mean, how long would we have lain next to each other in the dark waiting for the other one to make the first move?”

Going up on his elbows brings Eddie’s lips close enough to Steve for a kiss but he doesn't yet, he just stares up at him for a moment, then, with complete honesty, he tells Steve, “I’d have lain next to you for forever if I had to.”

Check it out on Ao3