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prod-ddeonu · 11 months

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UNDER THE COVER | s.jy

MDNI! MDNI! MDNI!

pairing: librarian!Jake x fem!reader

cw/tw: librarian!Jake, badboy!Jake, smut, fluff, mentions of assault and sa, drugs, sex in a public building, pet names, praise, face fucking, masturbation, kissing, mentions of murder (one line)

synopsis: Love was never your goal, preferring to keep your nose in a book while sitting in an isolated corner of your favorite library. But then you met Jake Sim: the quiet librarian who wore sweaters and button downs, the man who treated every book like a treasure, the man that you felt was perfect for you. You knew better than to judge a book by its cover, but who would have known your quiet library crush was the exact opposite of what you'd expected?

featuring: jay and sunghoon (iconic bffs!)

wc: ~6.9k

PART 2

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“Finals are kicking my ass, man,” Sunghoon stretched his arms above his head as he dramatically groaned.

Jay nodded, his notes every shade of the rainbow from his color coded highlighting method of studying. “You can say that again,” he capped the red highlighter and put it behind his ear.

“Finals are kicking my ass, man,” Sunghoon repeated, laughing when Jay threw the yellow highlighter at him.

The two turned to you, your head falling as your eyes began to shut. “Y/N!” Jay shouted. Sunghoon pressed his finger against his mouth and shushed him. “Piss off, Hoon. We're in a soundproofed study room,” Jay sneered.

Your head shot up, hands flying into the table to catch yourself. “The proper function is forty-four,” you mumbled as your eyes opened. “Oh, sorry. I had a dream I had already taken the final,” you rubbed your eye with your wrist.

Sunghoon put his hand over your forehead. “Y/N, if you don't sleep enough, your score’s gonna be a forty-four,” he said, his tone laced with worry.

You smiled, pinching the bridge of your nose. Sunghoon ran his hand over the ponytail you held your hair in, bringing the hair over his head. “Jay, you think I could work long hair?”

“I don't even think you can work basic algebraic equations,” he scoffed. Sunghoon frowned, sitting back upright.

He looked at his notes before groaning in agony. “I'm done for the night, guys. It's, like, seven at night and I'm tired,” he whined.

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna head home, too. You coming, Y/N?” Jay asked as the two stood, packing their notes and pencils.

You shook your head. “No, I'm gonna get a little bit of reading therapy in,” you smiled, thinking of your favorite character.

The two boys looked at each other with a raised brow. Sunghoon wiggled his at Jay, the other returning the action to create some sort of impromptu language. “Are you sure it's therapeutic reading?” Jay asked tenderly.

“Or is it ‘I wanna fuck that hot librarian’?” Sunghoon finished the point, sliding onto the table in front of you.

Your ears turned red, the mental image Sunghoon painted making you sweat. The two burst into laughter, clapping loudly and pointing at you. “She totally does! Y/N has a crush!” Jay shouted.

You slapped your hand over his mouth. “It's soundproof in here, not a solitary confinement cell! They can definitely hear your walrus laughter!”

Jay faked shock, slapping his hand against his chest and holding the table for support.

Ignoring him, Sunghoon leaned his elbows against the table next to you. “So, whatcha likin’ about this dude?”

You squeaked. “I- um-”

Jay returned to his position on the other side of you, his hand on your shoulder. “Is he loud, badass, smokes a lot of weed and parties all night, muscle tees and ripped jeans, maybe a print-”

“Alright, alright!” You shouted. “Remind me to put some soap in your mouth, Jay,” you wagged your finger in his face. He snapped his jaw at you, following your finger. “He's the exact opposite, actually. He's quiet, really kind, he’s not into the party scene, he doesn't wear anything too showy-”

“So he's just like you?” Sunghoon interrupted, pulling the edge of his sweater onto his shoulder.

You nodded, a cheesy grin coming over your lips. “And how do you know all this?” Jay raised his brow. “I doubt you've hung out with him.”

“I can just tell,” you sighed dreamily. You kicked your feet underneath you in excitement.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Ah, yes. Because you read minds.”

Jay clicked his tongue at you, crossing his arms. “Y/N, did nobody ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” He asked. “What if you get your hopes up, and then you find out that he's some rager that breaks your heart?”

You shook your head. “I don't think so, he seems pretty genuine from the way he looks.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes playfully again, “Delusion is one of your few flaws, Y/N. Your other one is reading for fun.”

You sat with your knees against your chest in a small corner of the library. The seating arrangement in that corner was a long, wooden bench that wrapped around the corner of the room. You liked to sit against the corner, your back to the wall and feet facing the shelves in front of you.

In the book you were reading, the main character had gone out with her boss in order to escape her manipulative boyfriend and catch him cheating. Her boss was icy, tall, and young. You'd barely managed to catch it, but it seemed that he was younger than her. The main character was a happy woman who let her naïvety get the best of her, which her boss had helped her get past.

You were in the scene where her boss confesses to her, but you weren't sure where the story was going. He told her he was falling in love with her, which she reciprocated, but he was holding her so close, and the word “heat” and “member” kept appearing in sentences.

You saw a shadow loom over you, shading your book from the light. A large hand rested on top of the book, tilting it back. “Are you enjoying the book so far?” A deep voice with a thick accent asked.

You nodded, not looking up. “It's really good, I'm just a little confused as to what's happening. I don't know who this member is and why they're so hot, but it doesn't make sense for her to be kissing them and not the main guy,” you rambled.

The person let out a deep chuckle. “Cute,” he said under his breath. “This is my favorite part, actually. If you don't know what all of that means, though, maybe you should skip that scene. It's not really important to the plot, anyways,” he continued.

The dim light above you bounced off of his rings, his long finger tapping on the spine of the book lightly in a fidgeting manner.

“I want to know what it means,” you sighed. “Can you explain it to me?”

When the person didn't respond, you looked upwards. Your breath caught in your throat as you squeaked.

The librarian you'd been harboring a secret crush on stood above you, his mouth slightly agape and his cheeks pink. His eyes grew wider with shock the longer you looked into them.

You turned back to the book, your eyes not really reading any words. “I can figure it out myself, sorry,” you whispered.

The man scratched the nape of his neck, a shy laugh leaving his lips. “No, it's okay, that scene is just…”

“Just what? Confusing?”

“Just not something you'd want a stranger to explain.”

“If you love the book, though, wouldn't you be good at explaining it?” You asked, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

He took the book from your hands, folding the corner of the page you were on and closing it. “Let me go check this out for you. I'll tell you at the counter, then you can read the rest at home, ‘kay?”

You nodded, willing to do anything he suggested. He walked you to his counter, scanning the book. “That scene you were reading is probably one of the most well-written sex scenes a reader could ask for,” he casually commented, smirking when you covered your mouth. “You can Google the words you don't know, but tell me if you still enjoyed the book when you return it!”

He placed the book in your bag, waving to you and leaning against the counter.

You sound around, mouth open to speak. “Name’s Jake, by the way,” he smiled handsomely at you, nodding his head up once. “I was gonna introduce myself to you properly, but you kinda jumped the gun on that one, miss sex book girl.”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment. “You don't have to call me that,” you barely whispered.

“Yeah?” He poked his tongue at his lip with a teasing smile. “What can I call you, then?”

“Y/N,” you looked at the floor before spinning around and walking to the door.

Jake waved behind you, a smile still prevalent on his face. “Have a safe night, Y/N,” he called out behind you. “Hope you enjoy your book!”

Oh, you enjoyed that book alright. With Jake’s words looming in your head, and a trusty Google search (turned out, member did not mean another character), you finished the book with a foggy mind and a whole lot of nervous swallows.

Jay and Sunghoon sat across from you at your local cafe, your bag on the table and notes strewn about. “Hoon, I think you should change majors,” Jay sighed, his palm against his forehead.

Sunghoon chewed his straw nervously while the other reviewed his notes and practice exam. “Why? I thought I was good with my pre-med stuff,” he grabbed the paper from Jay’s hands.

“‘What do you call a row of stitches holding together the edges of an incision?’ was the question, Hoon.”

He looked it over. “I don't see what I did wrong.”

You peeked your head up from your notes, reading the question. “You wrote ‘satire,’” Jay deadpanned. Sunghoon cursed under his breath and erased the answer, writing suture in its place.

“Could've sworn I put suture for that,” Sunghoon mumbled. You pat his back reassuringly, a small frown on his face. “I think I'm just burning out, I've been studying all of this for so long. Jay, gimme your card, I'm gonna go buy us a round of espresso.”

Jay swatted Sunghoon’s reaching arm away. “Dude, no! Use your card, I'm not rich,” he scoffed.

“Oh my gosh, Jay, please,” you whined. “I'm so tired, I barely slept last night.”

Jay’s brow flew to the top of his forehead, the corner of his lip lifting. “Is it because of a certain librarian you stayed late to see?” He lightly punched your shoulder jokingly.

You held your shoulder and cried out in pain dramatically. “C’mon, Jay, you owe her now,” Sunghoon waved his fingers at Jay to make a grabbing motion. Jay sighed, rolling his eyes and giving the card to him. “First round’s on Jay!”

Sunghoon skittered off to the counter to order the drinks, leaving Jay to interrogate you further.

He scooted his chair closer to yours, his arms folded over his chest. “So,” he started, “what's the reason you were up all night?”

You squeaked nervously. He laughed, placing his hand over yours softly. “I was reading a book Jake said was good,” you almost whispered.

Jay shot backwards into his seat, letting out a loud gasp of shock and earning concerned stares from the rest of the customers. You shushed him, to no avail. He spun in his chair, calling out to his friend. “Hoon! Hoon!”

Sunghoon turned to face him with a scowl. “What?” He mouthed.

“She got the hot librarian’s name!” He shouted, not caring whose morning he disturbed.

Sunghoon ran out of line, sliding back into the chair across from you and resting his hand against his chin. “Soooo,” Sunghoon dragged out, “what's his naaaame?”

You shrunk into your seat. “It’s, um-”

“It's Jake!” Jay shouted, leaning over the table.

Sunghoon and Jay brought their hands together, ooh-ing in a high pitched tone as they wiggle their fingers. “Anything else happen? Did he hold the door open for you?” Sunghoon swooned at you.

You shyly laughed. “No, he just told me to read this book,” you blushed, pulling it out of your bag. “He told me what some of it meant, and it really helped!”

Jay flipped the book open to the folded corner, reading a paragraph quickly. He closed the book, furrowed his brows, reopened the book, re-read the paragraph, and turned to you, pointing at the pages as he let his mouth hang open. “He told you what this meant?”

You nodded, blushing. “I was a little embarrassed, but he was super nice about it,” you crossed your ankles and swayed slowly.

Jay shut the book and slid it into your bag, Sunghoon reaching in and pulling it out as he turned.

“Y/N, my dearest, sweetest, bestest friend,” he placed his hand on your shoulder with a smile. Suddenly, his grip turned hard, squeezing into your collarbone. “HE IS FLIRTING WITH YOU!” He seethed.

You swatted his hand away. “Then what do– ow, that actually hurts still– I do?”

Jay peacefully made a tent with his hands against the table. He blew his bangs out of his face, the brunette pieces flying upwards. “You go back there, and you ask him out,” Jay smirked evilly. “And then, you come back and relay everything to us.”

You nodded, saluting and grunting in comprehension.

Sunghoon gasped loudly, causing you and Jay to whip your heads to him.

He slammed the book against the table, scattering Jay’s highlighters and your pencils. “THIS IS A SEX BOOK?!” He shouted.

You blushed while Jay put his hand to his mouth in order to stifle his laughter. Sunghoon slowly turned to you, disgust apparent on his face. “You're such a nerd you read porn?”

“Hey, man. She reads it for the plot,” Jay snickered.

After your embarrassing exchange with your friends, you went back to the library to return the book (and stare at Jake). You held the book in front of you, sad to part with it. Jake had opened a door to a new world that you'd never heard of: the world of erotic romance books.

You blushed at the thought of the genre being his favorite. Swinging the door open, you took in the scent of paper, dust, and the slight hint of lavender you always caught when you walked in. Your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

Jake scanned a book at the counter for a woman, his long, black hair being accessorized by his usual pair of round, metal-rimmed glasses.

You watched silently from in front of the door as he performed such a melancholy task in such a charming way. The sleeves of his blue pullover came to the edges of his palm, his white turtleneck beneath covering his skin. You watched his pouty lips curve into your favorite smile, a slight wink being thrown to the older woman.

The woman slipped the book into her bag, giggling and walking towards the door. Jake’s eyes met your own, a happy wave being sent your way.

You felt yourself begin to melt at the sight.

You waved back, walking towards where he was standing. You placed the book into the counter as he smiled at you. He laughed lightly. “Guess it wasn't your cup of tea, seeing as you're bringing it back the next morning?”

You shook your head, “The opposite, actually. I finished it all last night, I just couldn't put it down!” You smiled.

Jake raised a brow, putting his elbow onto the countertop and resting his chin in his palm. “Yeah?” He asked with a thick accent. “What made it so enjoyable?”

This is the flirting Jay was talking about, you thought to yourself.

You bit the tip of your tongue, looking around the room in thought. What could you say to add to the flirting? You hadn't been in a serious relationship in years, you had little to no current experience.

“I guess I really liked the main character's chemistry with her boss,” you smiled at him, “and how he had a different side to his character that he only showed her.”

Jake nodded, leaning back and rocking onto the heels of his feet. He slid the book across the counter with a low whistle escaping his lips. “You're the first person I've met that tried to find something romantic in this book.”

You mentally facepalmed yourself. “Is that not what I was supposed to do? The writing was really good, I just-”

“Hey, hey,” he laughed. “Don't worry your pretty self over that, I think it's cool that you didn't just admire the smut aspect of the book,” he scanned the barcode on the back cover and placed the book onto a cart.

“I did enjoy that part a little, it just felt awkward to read,” you lied. You actually re-read that section of the book three times after finishing the book.

Jake’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip to wet it with a smile. He walked around the counter, pushing his book cart in the direction of the young adult section of the library.

You turned to walk to your usual corner of the library, ready to surrender this golden opportunity to your awkwardness. You took a step forward, spinning back around quickly as Jake coughed.

You made eye contact as his mouth opened to speak. “Can I have your number?” You blurted out.

Jake’s mouth shut with squinted eyes. Rejection.

“Can you read my mind or something?” He asked.

You shot him a confused look, a toothy grin splayed across his face. “I was-” He cleared his throat nervously, “I was just thinking about how I wanted to ask you to hang out after I close up, sorry if it came out weird.”

You felt clouds lift your feet, making them take even steps before landing in front of him with your phone out. He chuckled as he put his number into your phone. “Doesn't this place close late, though?” You asked.

He nodded. “It closes at nine, but if I'm being honest, fun never really happens until after dark.”

You laughed, thinking he was joking. He was not.

He shrugged, continuing to push the cart. “Just text me your address, I'll pick you up. I'll make sure it's a date that you'll never forget,” he smiled.

Your heart soared. It raced. It pounded. More importantly, it stopped. Time stopped. “Date?” You squeaked out.

He laughed, his ears turning red. “Yeah, I figured it should be a date. Don't wanna waste a good time with a pretty girl like you, y'know?” He scratched the back of his neck.

You nodded eagerly. “It's a date! What do I wear?”

“Just some comfortable clothes, you don't have to do much to impress me. I'll be wearing what I usually do, anyways,” he placed a book onto the shelf, examining the next book.

You walked to the cart, grabbing a book from the other side. “I know it's not very romantic, but can I help you put away the books? It might help you close faster,” you smiled.

He pulled the cuffs of his pull-over off of his hands. “I find it very romantic that you want to do the most boring part of my job with me, actually,” he joked.

That same lavender scent you would get hints of came flooding your senses as the two of you worked closely. You closed your eyes, taking a long breath. Jake smelled like lavender, and god, it made your knees weak.

Jay and Sunghoon, although strongly against the date, showed up to your place at seven sharp to help you get ready for it. “I mean, what kind of guy asks a kind and unsuspecting girl to go out after nine?” Sunghoon asked as he curled your hair.

He looked up into the mirror, eyes locking on yours. “A sex offender,” He released your hair from the contraption, waving the wand in the air as he spoke.

Jay groaned as he laid different outfit combinations across your bed. “For the tenth time, Sunghoon, he wouldn't be able to work at a public library if he was a registered sex offender!” Jay tapped his toes in thought before throwing a red shirt of yours onto the growing pile of clothes on your floor.

“Maybe he's not a sex offender yet,” Sunghoon replied, “but our little Y/N could end up being the body they find in the ditch.”

You sighed as Jay struggled to not throw a hard object at his friend. Sunghoon and Jay had been going at it since they arrived, Sunghoon erring more on the “worried mother” end of the argument.

“Sunghoon, stop worrying so much. He's super cute and sweet, he probably just wants to watch a movie or something,” you smiled.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue. “Let's recall what he said. ‘Wear something comfortable’, because tight clothes cause you to bleed out slower. ‘A date you'll never forget’, because you'll be dead by eleven.”

“‘I just want to have sex with you and then send you home at four in the morning,’” Jay commented. “You make it sound like she's going out with Michael Myers. Don't forget, Hoon, she already agreed to share her location with us in the groupchat.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, running his fingers through your curls. “So we'll know what corner of the road her body ends up on, but what about her head?”

“Oh, God, you're going off the deep end,” you pressed your hand to your forehead.

You stood from the chair, doing a small twirl for the two. You had already done your makeup before the two arrived, but you were a lost cause with fashion and hair.

Jay clapped, his lower lip jutting out in an impressed expression. “Wow, Hoon. Maybe you should drop out of college and become a hairdresser,” he commented, earning a threatening jab with the hot iron from Sunghoon.

You unplugged the appliance, taking it from his hands and carefully placing it down. Jay held a shirt and skirt to your body, nodding for the other man to look at the combination.

Sunghoon patted the man on his back, a smile on his face. “See, if I had to send my only daughter off to possibly go missing, this is the outfit I think she'd want to go in.”

You walked out of your door at exactly a quarter past nine, Jake’s text message reminding you of a drunk message from Jay.

Hey um he uh, um out sigh in the blocker period sore we eve this cumster you we're, um using speech to text period

You figured it translated roughly to, “Hey, I'm here, I'm outside in the black car. Sorry if this comes to you weird, I'm using text to speech.” You just couldn't figure out where cumster could've come from.

You giggled as you sat in the car. Your purse clinked loudly with the pepper spray, pocket knife, seatbelt cutter, lockpick, whistle, and body reflectors Sunghoon wouldn't let you leave without.

You closed the door, turning to Jake. You audibly screamed when you saw the man in the front seat. He jumped, looking into the backseat and out of every window. “Shit, Y/N, what's wrong?!” He shouted, equally as scared as you.

You looked at him in disbelief. “Jake? Is that really you?”

The man who was sitting next to you was wearing a black wife-beater and baggy jeans with large tears at the knees, a small book pendant hanging off a gold chain. His body, now uncovered by layers of clothing, was covered by layers of ink. He had a paw print on his inner arm, the name Layla written inside of it, along with many music tattoos and smaller symbols across his arms and chest.

You looked down, noting that it seemed even his legs had art on them. His eyes followed yours, a small gasp leaving his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Guess I forgot to mention all that,” he smiled. “They're everywhere, but they all mean something.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. You may have painted him as a modest man, but you'd be lying if you said the Jake in front of you didn't make you feel butterflies. “They're pretty,” you commented, reading the tattoo on the side of his neck.

“Love is a great beautifier.”

Jake self-consciously ran his hand over it. “It's from Little Women,” Jake smiled softly.

“I love that book,” you commented, continuing to admire his look. His hair had fallen messily over his forehead, his glasses seeming to have disappeared.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Me too, actually. It's what got me into reading,” he looked forward as he put his seatbelt back on. “Look, if you find that I look too weird like this, I can put a jacket on or something-”

“No! I like it, actually. You look… good,” you blushed as you put your seatbelt on.

Jake reached his hand under your chin, lifting your head to look at him. “Look me in my eyes and say it again,” the corner of his lip lifted. “I want to see you say it, don't hide your face from me.”

You mumbled, “You look good.”

“I'll take it,” he smiled fully, throwing the car into drive and pulling into the road. “Just know, I don't let pretty girls hold their tongue around me.”

You looked out the window in an effort to hide your nervousness. Jake turned his radio on, playing a band you didn't know.

He started humming along to the song as it got closer to the chorus. He had a beautiful voice, which only added to your nervousness.

“Where are we going?” You asked, noticing a familiarity in the direction he was driving in.

He tested his elbow against his center console as he drove with one hand. “I figured I could take you to the library after hours, y'know? We'd be alone but it wouldn't be like you didn't know the place. I can show you my favorite spot, too.”

You shot a glance in his direction. “Jake, isn't it closed?”

“Yeah, and?”

“As in, we can't be there?”

“Yes we can,” he smiled.

You rolled your eyes. “If you're trying to break into a building, I think we should call this off.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he laughed, his accent shining through, “it's not breaking in.”

“Entering with a key doesn't count.”

“It does when you own the place,” Jake pulled up to a stop light, wiggling his eyebrows at you before laughing loudly. Your jaw was to the floor, an unreadable expression in your eyes. “I've never made it obvious that I owned it, because it was given to me by my grandmother when she retired, but I've owned it since I moved here. My cousin opens the place on weekdays while I go to college, but I close every night and spend the whole weekend there.”

“You'd have to live there to pull that off,” you rolled your eyes.

“I do,” he responded. “My place is right next to it.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Of course you're handsome, funny, good at singing, and you own a business.”

You felt his hand land on your leg, his fingers tapping rhythmically to the music. You turned to him, your eyes trailing up his arm. “You can continue,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

You lightly hit his arm, pointing to the road. “Light's green,” you turned to hide your blush.

Jake walked you into the familiar building, a small smile on his face as he pulled a projector from the office room. “Come and sit down, pretty girl,” he plugged a handful of cords into the device and turned it on.

You walked past the nonfiction shelves to see pillows forming small seats on the floor, a basket of movie snacks and drinks in the middle. Jake had thrown some last minute fairy lights into the mix, wrapping them around the seating area and putting some candles on the ground. “Jake, this looks amazing.”

He sat on a pillow before laughing and motioning to the other. You ran over, sitting down and immediately putting on a movie.

You didn't watch a single moment of the movie. Although Jake seemed immersed, you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Your eyes took in the slight shine against his skin from the movie, the light in his eyes looking like stars. You didn't miss the way he chewed his tongue when he got focused, or when his hair was blown awry by the air conditioner.

Your brain took a turn for the worse as a more romantic scene in the movie arrived. Your eyes raked over his exposed skin, feeling like a Victorian man who had just been introduced to short sleeves.

You looked at his tattoos, really looked at them, and saw countless music notes with small letters in them, a guitar, small pictures or animals, and a lot of book references. You never expected Jake to have been fully inked up, but you also never expected to find that as a huge turn-on.

You squeezed your thighs together to hide the fact that a simple doodle in perfectly smooth skin had put you in such a predicament. Jake turned to you, wrapping his arm around you and pointing to the screen. “See that actor?”

“Yeah, what about him?” You asked.

Jake let his hand fall onto your lap, turning to you. “Even he can tell you're not paying attention,” he pushed your hair behind your ear. “Wanna tell me what you like so much that you've been staring at me the whole time?”

You gawked. You geeked. You'd fumbled.

Jake slid his hand onto your back, and in a moment he was above you. “Tell me, sweetheart, what's so attractive that it's got you squeezing those pretty thighs so tight?”

You gulped, your thoughts having gone anywhere but where they should. He tapped his finger against your lip, a sinful smile on his face. “Your tattoos,” you whispered.

Jake leaned back, messily pushing his hair out of his face and laughing darkly. “You like my tattoos so much that you're getting wet over them?” He asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. “I like how cool you look, wanna see the rest.”

“You want to see the rest of the ones on me, sweetheart?” He asked in that thick Aussie accent you couldn't get enough of.

With a small squeak, you nodded again, feeling smaller than usual in his gaze. He looked at you the same way you'd assume a predator stared at its prey in its final moments, but you felt a strange sense of safety with him.

He slowly leaned in, his arms caging you in as he pressed his lips to yours. He held your hip with his large hand, his fingers gripping your ass while his palm held you down. He slid his thigh over your core, pressing into where you needed him most.

Your lips parted, letting out a moan. Jake swallowed it whole, sliding his tongue against your own slowly and sucking on your bottom lip. The two of you built a slow rhythm, his thigh grinding into you as you arched your back like clockwork.

His hand never left your hip, holding you in place to keep you victim to his torturously slow lips and thrusts. He loved every noise that left your mouth. Jake pulled away from you, his eyes taking in your wet, puffy lips. The two of you were breathlessly panting to catch your breaths.

His lips parted in thought. “Didn't think you'd be such a good kisser,” he mused. “Almost like you were made for my lips.”

You giggled, pushing him off you as he went to press more kisses to your lips. “Jake, I want to know more about you,” you whined.

“For one, I'm a really good kisser,” he wiggled his eyebrows jokingly as he settled back into his seat. His arms came behind him for support. He seemed to not worry about covering his obvious boner, leaning back and looking at the ceiling.

You hit his arm. “I know that already,” you fussed. “But, like, what are some hobbies of yours?”

He jut his bottom lip out in thought. “I play guitar,” he shrugged, “and there's nothing I love more than getting high and reading a good book.”

You blinked slowly, his eyes coming to yours with a smile. “What does being high even have to do with reading?”

“Makes the experience more realistic. Feels like you're there, you start feeling what the character feels and all,” he sighed. “I like to read romance books, though.”

You bit the back of your lip. “Does that really work?”

“Wanna try it?"

Jake had lit a joint for you, showing you how to hold it and even going so far as to hold it for you while he played with your hair.

The world started to move slower, certain colors waving in your vision. “Do you feel it?” Jake asked, running his hands through your hair. You nodded, looking around the room. “The rest’ll hit soon, just know I'm right here if you need me.”

He put his arm around your shoulders as he took his own hits, resting his head against your own.

He put the joint into a small ashtray, standing with you and grabbing one of the many books he'd brought into the soundproofed study room off a table.

The two of you read through it, laughing when one of you wouldn't be done with the page as fast as the other. Suddenly, the book began to describe a racier scene, one with hands all over the main character's body and kisses being pressed over her.

Jake watched you closely, taking note of how you squirmed in your seat every time the girl felt a new sensation. “What's wrong, Y/N?” Jake asked in a low voice, leaning into you. “You seem… worked up.”

You swallowed hard. “N-No! I’m just cold,” you lied. Jake clicked his tongue, closing the book and holding you by your thigh.

He used his hand to pull you closer, his lips connecting to your own. “Sure, sweetheart. I believe you,” he lied with a smirk. He glanced at your lips again before wrapping his fingers around your throat, pulling you in to continue his rough kiss.

A groan slipped from Jake's own throat, his body reacting before he could. He pulled away, his hand sliding up your closed thighs. “Not,” he continued, connecting your lips again. You opened your legs slightly, giving Jake the ability to use his hand and pry them open.

He ran his fingers up and down your clothed slit, just barely giving you the friction you craved. You felt how hard he was through his jeans, his crotch subtly grinding against your leg. He continued his assault against your lips, never once stopping for air.

You hit his chest, moaning into his mouth as he pulled away. “Jake, stop teasing me.”

“Oh, I'd never tease you, darling,” he responded with a mischievous grin. “Just wanted you to feel how good you're gonna feel with me.”

Jake took his hand off your skirt and brought it into your other hand. He brought his lips to your neck, biting down and tracing the marks with his tongue. You moaned out his name, making him groan lowly into your neck.

“I can't wait anymore,” he said as he stepped back and began unbuckling his belt. “I need to feel your throat around me.”

You stood, walking to be in front of him and pushing his back to the table. His breath caught in his throat as you sank to your knees in front of him. He hurriedly finished unbuckling his belt, reaching his hands to his waistband to pull down the rest of his clothing as you held his hand to stop him.

“Wait, Jake, are you sure about this? We're both high and in a study room in the library, what if the cameras pick up the noise?”

Jake leaned against the table behind him, his hands holding onto the edge of it at his sides. He looked at you with such an intense heat behind his gaze, you could feel the lust of it gathering into your underwear.

He slid a hand into your hair, pulling you to him and smashing his lips to yours. He brought his thigh outwards to catch your body between your legs. Your eyes shut at the feeling, the messy kiss fogging your brain.

“These rooms are sound-proof for two reasons. One, for studying or reading. And two, so I can fuck your throat as hard as I want.”

He released your hair, making you fall back to your knees. He pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees, giving you a grand view of his cock.

It was veiny, thick, and the tip was such an angry red that the precum leaking from it almost screamed for you to lick it all up. Without warning, you grabbed it and took it between your lips.

Jake threw his head back, a moan bouncing off the walls of the room. You heard him suck a breath in through his teeth as you sucked on the tip. You let your tongue glide over his slit, collecting his precum and swallowing it.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so good at this,” he moaned. Your wetness was dripping down your legs, you felt it. You moaned around him as you took more of him in with hollowed cheeks.

He held the sides of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Remember what I said, sweetheart. Wanna fuck your face, if that's okay.”

You hummed on his dick, giving him the go-ahead. He slowly began to thrust into your mouth, not pushing in all the way. When you began to bob your head further, Jake took it as his sign to go deeper.

He added more force and speed to his thrusts until you were taking him whole, each thrust hitting the bottom of your throat and making you gag around him. Your saliva was dripping down his balls and onto his legs as you used one hand to rub your own clit.

You were so close, but you wanted to wait until his cum was pouring down your throat to finish. “Such a good girl for me, so sweet for taking my dick down her throat,” Jake hummed, his eyes never leaving the sight. It all felt so good.

Jake’s legs began to shake as he let out more moans. Jake was not afraid to be loud, nor was he afraid to speak his mind. He constantly praised you between his little moans.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “‘M so close.”

You moaned against him again, his hips jolting forward. “Gonna make me cum down your throat like that, bet you want that don't you?”

His tip slammed into the back of your throat, his thrusts growing erratic. With each thrust he gave to the back of your throat, you circled your clit faster. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he groaned.

His hips stuttered to a halt, warm liquid spilling into your stomach. “Taking it so, so good,” he sighed, his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. “Atta girl, my girl, so beautiful with my cock down her throat.”

You moaned as you felt your orgasm take over you, moans spilling around Jake’s cock and slightly overstimulating him. He thrusted one more time into you, a lazy smile on his face. He pulled out of you, watching bits of spit and cum dribble down your chin.

You looked like an absolute wreck, your hair messy and your mascara running with spit down your chin. Jake loved it. You looked stunning to him.

“Y/N, that was amazing. Thank you,” he pulled you up to sit you in a chair. He ran out of the room to get water for you, as he'd told you when he walked out.

Your eyes darted around the room. You opened your phone to see four missed calls from both Sunghoon and Jay.

You dialed Jay’s phone number, a groggy smile on your face. “Hey, what's up?”

“Y/N, are you still with Jake?”

“Yes, why?” You asked, stretching in the chair.

He sighed over the phone. “We've been waiting outside the library for half an hour, get the fuck in the car.”

“Jay, I'm capable of bringing myself home-”

“Y/N. Get out of there, now,” Jay said, his tone cold. “I don't know how to say this, but-”

“Jay, you can't control me. I'm an adult,” you rolled your eyes, pacing around the room. “If you're so uncomfortable with me dating someone-”

Jay interrupted you, saying a sentence you'd never think to hear about anyone, much less the guy you sucked off less than three minutes ago. His words had you quickly grabbing your belongings and running out of the building, hoping Jake didn't see you go.

“He’s wanted for murder, Y/N.”

notes: MURDER?? oh boy.. didn't see that one coming ;) expect the next part to be... Eventful. Originally, Jake was supposed to be a camboy, but I figured that possible criminal Jake would be better LMFAO. I reccomend listening to Arctic monkeys or chase Atlantic when you read this series.

tags: @heesitation @vizstars

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, and thank you for reading! stick around for part 2!!

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cute-sucker · 1 month

Text

note: inspired by @lionasvault diner!jj x deer!reader ! <3

short masterlist: part two here, part three here, part four here, part five here, part six here !

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

being a single mother with a rafe camerons child was never easy.

the little girl hung on your shoulder giggling as she held onto you, and you tried to hide the squeezing pain that you felt in your heart. she knew nothing about her situation completely obvious.

you were a kook. all through, the short bikinis, strutting upon everything you owned, winning pageants, and academic awards. it was your life. you were a soccer player on the side of it all, a crazy defender. you had enjoyed your life, knowing that you were going to marry someone.

rafe.

that's who the person was going to be. the sweet boy who gave you roses on your anniversary, telling you was better than any kook girl he had met. and it was all fun and games, sneaking away to be with someone older, someone bad, someone playful and someone who treated you "well." it helped that he was kook too, smug about his place in the world, and a callous hand dragging you across to show you around at parties.

school ended on a good note for you, and you headed to university, with high dreams and a cute boyfriend at that. sure he was brooding, sure he was mean, sure he dropped notes about you not needing a higher education because you were wife material. but your parents had told you to go and be independent.

so that's what you were doing. now, escaping from his clutches, a six-month-old baby girl gurgled at you as you tried to ignore the unfamiliarity of the whole new place you had rented. it was a cute town you thought, the little painted signs, and you found yourself staring at the flat. your landlord's little painted key felt warm in your hand, and you found yourself tearing up.

finally, you set down your small brown suitcase, willing yourself to be stronger. willing yourself to look at the bright side of things, the fact that the apartment had 1 room for the two of you, and the fact that the sink had pretty roses on it, and the fact that you were finally free.

you gazed back at your baby, her sleepy smile, as her eyes blinked and when it found a familiar face - gurgled with happiness. you felt as if your heart was going to burst with happiness, and with that, you decided that you should explore the town

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

the town was better than you thought it would be, there was a small ballet studio across the street, meek book stands nearby, and a farmers market that sold you the ripest strawberries known to mankind. so yes, when you saw those strawberries you bought a carton. immediately your baby girl made grabby grabby hands, and you smiled down at her, brushing a curl of hair away from her face.

"what, baby? you want one too?" you cooed, before giving her a red strawberry. she squealed before taking a big bite out of it, mushing it in her claw hands, giving you an inquisitory look. you sighed, and continued to push the stroller.

jj's diner.

that's what it read on bright rusty red letters, it was colored a gorgeous gray, and the glass windows showed a homely setting. grandparents sat with one other, sipping on coffees, you watched kids take big bites out of syrapy pancakes and stripes of bacon. this was a scene to beyond, and you couldn't help but yearn for it, as you opened the door of the diner.

a sweet smell wafted by, as if fresh blueberry muffins had just been made. it felt like home, like a safe space, and before you knew it you were dragging in your stroller, and sitting down near the window. finally you found yourself smiling with joy as you looked down at the laminated plastic menu.

"i'm jj, what can i get 'cha?" a gruff voice muttered, and you pursed your lips before looking up. it was a guy with dirty blonde hair, a backward hat, and white tee with what looked like mustard to you? "c'mon mama, i don't got all the time in the world."

he looked at you pointly as if annoyed. the name 'jj,' seemed to flash in your mind. that was the diner's name? this was his diner, wasn't it. clearly they were short on staff.

you flushed quickly, and you picked up your menu, "yeah i'll take the pancakes? extra syrup, and maybe some..." you crinkled your nose before looking at your baby girl who had a menu in her mouth, giving you a gumless smile "can i have mashed banana?"

he looked baffled, chuckling while putting a hand on his hip, "mashed bananas? i don't serve that." once again you felt like an idiot stammering out your words. finally it was as if he looked at you properly, your creased clothes and messy hair. you had been up all night worrying about this move.

he shook his head, and then swiped a hand to pick up the menus, "yeah. it's alright. mashed bananas and pancakes. got it." and somehow when he gave you that half smile you felt your heart lift up.

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

by the end of the trip to the diner, you had gotten up to clean your hands asking a kind lady to look after your baby for a second - and when you came back jj was sitting next to your baby cooing.

he gave you a confused look when you came back, as your baby chewed on his finger, giving a delighted shriek. you found yourself trying to figure out what was happening.

"she yours?" he asked, and you gave him a quick nod before trying to pull her into your arms. you avoided his gaze. you didn't want him to say anything about it. after all, you had enough people judging you.

instead you zoned on your baby who gave a final cry before letting you pick her up. she still reached her chubby arms for jj's, eyes welling up as if she was going to cry.

you sighed, "really sorry about this. i know it's not okay."

jj looked at you again, reaching for his hate before waving his hand to console you, "nah. i don't mind."

you gave him a tightlipped smile, and then put your baby in your stroller to head out, "thanks for everything."

"don't mention it."

somehow you felt as if you had made a friend.

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ladykailitha · 7 months

Text

The Fallen

I blame @vecnuthy for this entirely. Seeing all their Sleep Token posts has completely intersected with Steddie and you get this.

***

Modern AU: Corroded Coffin makes it big. Like Metallica levels huge. Like every up and coming metal band is clamoring to open for them levels of fame. When this metal band, The Fallen comes on the scene and are dismissed as glam rock wannabes.

They are very theatrical. They are dressed in long coats with hoods and face masks. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer all have full Venetian masks of different colors. The bassist has one that looks like a starry night (but not Starry Night if you know what I mean). The Guitarist has a red devil’s mask, horns and all. The drummer is in a black death mask. The eyes of the mask are closed and it looks eerie as fuck. The most dramatic of the masks belong to the lead singer. He wears an opaque white lace mask with the mouth and chin cut out so he can sing.

Their outfits match their masks.

The lead singer, Abbadon, the fallen angel is in all in white with a splash of color on the lining of his coat. Sometimes it’s pink or baby blue, sometimes it one of the colors of bandmates, black or red or starry midnight blue. He wears high heeled boats and not always of the combat variety. Once he wore stilettos with a baby blue stripe up the side. It’s the outfit that gets made into dolls and merch the most. Most of the time he’s shirtless, but has been known to switch it up with lace or sheer tops.

The guitarist plays up the devil persona to a tee and calls himself Asmodeus, the demon of lust. Red leather and fetish gear. Thick red combat boots. His guitar is even blood red.

The bassist is called Astraeus, the titan of the night. While in certain light his clothes look black, but they are in fact a dark blue with bright stars, swirling galaxies, and glowing nebulae. His bass is of the night sky as well.

And finally the drummer, Azrael. Angel of death. Always in black. His drum kit is black with black metal fittings. Even his drumsticks are black.

Like I said, at first dismissed as wannabes but they are killing it. It’s clear that not only are they talented, their flare for the dramatic adds to their mystique. Soon they are the new rising stars of metal.

Dustin is their biggest fan. He loves them. Eddie is offended at the highest level. How dare this little butthead like The Fallen. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Dude, Corroded Coffin is still number one in my book,” he tells Eddie. “But you can’t deny that Abbadon is a beast on vocals.”

Eddie is forced to concede the point. Abbadon knows how to really get the through to the emotion of a song.

So when Dustin gets front row tickets to The Fallen’s concert in Indy, Eddie reluctantly joins the little twerp.

And the concert starts. First the drummer gets lowered into his seat on giant raven wings.

“Azrael!” the announcer calls out.

And the crowd goes wild.

The man slips out of the harness and wings ascend. Eddie cocks his head, yeah all right that’s kinda cool.

Azrael hits his drums and the bassist gets lowered on to the stage. All shimmering blues and purples, like actual stars, lands deftly on the stage and Azrael hits the high hat.

“Astraeus!”

The crowd is frantic now. Screaming and jumping up and down.

As soon as the wings are unstrapped and lifted away Astraeus riffs on his bass and the crowd eats it up.

Eddie likes this one. It’s unique.

Then Azrael starts up again as another man is lowered and it takes everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes at this one. Red leather gear, horned mask, and fucking bat wings.

He stomps on the stage and really wails on his guitar. Eddie looks over to see that Dustin is absolutely eating it with the rest of them so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Asmodeus!”

Dustin is vibrating so hard that Eddie’s fears he might literally crawl out of his skin with excitement.

And then the entire stadium goes silent. Like stock still. Eddie is looking around him confused.

He looks back at the stage and there descends the absolute most devastatingly handsome man Eddie has ever seen and he hasn’t seen his face.

His arms are out stretched and his head is bowed. Once he lands air cannons shoot out white feathers out at the crowd and the wings ascend without this man.

“Abbadon!” the announcer screams for the final time.

“Indy!” he shouts into his mouthpiece.

And the crowd screams could deafen the most resilient of metal goer.

Abbadon starts singing and the crowd is losing their god damn minds. And yeah, yeah. Eddie is one of them.

They’ve got a stage presence that can’t be manufactured.

And then about half way through the concert he sees it. Abbadon turns his head just right and holy fuck, Eddie is losing his mind for a different reason. He manages to take a picture with his phone before Abbadon turns.

After the concert Eddie grills Dustin about the band all the way home. But the only thing the kid knows is how awesome the band is.

He gets to the hotel and starts watching every interview with The Fallen ever. And he pulls up one from about a year or so back where Abbadon is talking about the masks.

Abbadon pulls out a black mask and holds it up to the light. “See? You can tell that the eyes have mesh covering over them. They work the way two way mirrors do. Azrael can see out of them just fine, but you can’t see in.”

There are a lot of impressed nods, Eddie is definitely one of them. That’s certainly a neat trick.

“So what’s the reason for the masks at all?” the interviewer asks.

Abbadon looks at the members of his band and they all nod. He licks his lips.

“Because if we had been ourselves when we started on the scene,” he said, “we would have be called posers and we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.”

Eddie paused the video and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Just then Jeff wanders into the hotel room and looks at the TV.

“Is that The Fallen?”

Eddie hums. “Yup.”

Jeff grabs a drink from the mini-fridge and makes his way over. “Oh hey is that poser interview?”

Eddie hums again.

“He can’t really be serious about that,” Jeff says with a huff. “No one in the metal scene would call anyone posers, not if they truly loved the music.”

“We would have,” Eddie says with a finality that brings Jeff up short.

“The fuck we would have, man,” Jeff snaps. “There’s no way.”

“We would have it was Steve Harrington’s band.”

Jeff’s eyes go wide. “There is no way that’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and zooms in on Abbadon’s neck. He hands his phone to Jeff.

“Okay so the dude has moles on his neck,” he says handing the phone back, “lots of people have them.”

Eddie goes through his phone and pulls up a picture of Steve. He’s not in the exact same pose but it’s close enough. He hands the phone to Jeff again.

Jeff squints and then zooms in.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie drapes his hand over his mouth and purses his lips.

“Steve Harrington in a metal band,” Jeff says in awe. “All be damned.”

“When The Fallen came on the scene,” Eddie says dropping his hand so his talk, “we were outselling Metallica in records and ticket sales. If the rest of the band are preps like Steve we would have mocked them relentlessly.”

Jeff sits down hard on the sofa next to Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands.

“We got to tell someone, man,” Jeff says. “This is huge!”

Eddie in his haste to look at Jeff accidentally hits the remote.

“Do you think you’ll ever do a reveal?” the interviewer asks.

Asmodeus leans over to speak in the microphone. “Ask us again in ten years if we’re still selling out crowds.”

Eddie fumbles it again, but manages to turn off the TV.

Jeff and he looks at each other.

“We can’t say shit, man,” Eddie hisses. “It would be like outing someone as gay or trans before they want to.”

Jeff slumps in his seat. “Fuck. Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “What I don’t get is how the kids don’t know.”

Jeff opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head slowly. “Sorry but if I was Steve I wouldn’t tell them shit either.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jeff says turning to face him, “they’re great kids. Brilliant D&D players, nerds, geeks, and dorks the lot of them. But I would not trust them with a secret that big.”

Eddie thought about all the time that they accidentally blurted out something that didn’t make sense out of context, but once you knew, holy shit was it a miracle these kids didn’t get into more trouble.

“Yeah okay.”

After a moment of silence Eddie looks over and frowns at Jeff. “What are you doing my hotel room anyway?”

Jeff holds up his beer. “Your beer was cold, I forgot to put mine in the fridge when we got in.”

“Asshole,” Eddie grouses, bumping Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff kisses his cheek. “You love me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Steve is in his dressing room after their last concert of the tour for their second album scrubbing the hell out of his face because that mask is prone to giving him the worst breakouts, when he notices the blue roses.

He gets a lot of flowers but never blue roses. He rinses off his face and walks over to the them.

There’s a note and he thinks he recognizes the handwriting. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying.

“I know your secret, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

It’s not signed, but the ‘sweetheart’ gives it away.

He messages Robin.

“Get Eddie Munson in here right now!”

She protests that she doesn’t know where he is. But Steve knows he has to still be in the building and sure enough she finds Eddie waiting in the wings, looking smug as hell.

Her eyes go wide and cursing up a storm drags him into the dressing room.

She presses her back to the door.

“Who told?” she squeaks.

Eddie laughs. “No one, I swear.”

“Then how did you know?” Steve asks.

He hands Steve his phone with the picture he took at the concert. Robin wanders over to peak over Steve’s shoulder.

“So it’s a picture of his neck,” she murmurs.

But suddenly Steve gets it. “It’s my moles!”

Eddie nods, pressing his lips together so he doesn’t giggle.

“Shit!” Robin hisses. “Do you think anyone else figured it out?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’m just obsessive that way.”

“About moles?” Robin says with a frown.

“With Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Right I’m out of here.”

She closes the door behind her and they are left alone.

The night ends with Eddie in Steve’s bed asking him for The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on their next tour next year and there is no way Steve could say no to that. His bandmates would kill him.

They go on tour and the hardest part is dodging rumors that Eddie is two timing Steve with Abbadon because when The Fallen and Corroded Coffin perform together they make out on stage.

Then for The Fallen’s ten anniversary they do a reveal and Dustin is livid.

Robin and Steve had been telling him for years that they were just low level PAs and not a famous rockstar and his equally mysterious manager.

They’re forgiven when Steve tells him that half the songs on the first album are about him and the rest of the kids.

***

This is just a rough draft. I might expand on it in full later.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar steve harrington

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meatonfork · 2 years

Note

need me a fluff fic with the entire task force 141 at a club but some men gets handsy with grim and everyone else beats the shit out of them

Hands Off

——————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grin

warnings: alcohol, violence, non-consensual touches, ghost fuming

summary: grim gets touched inappropriately and their boys are not happy

———————————————————————————————————————

your mission was successful. and, with a success comes a reward.

you lot had booked a hotel, and then decided to hit a local club for some drinks. seeing as you were only 20, being in a country that allowed you to drink at 18 was an even bigger win.

you could hold your own. alcohol never affected you too deeply until around the seventh drink.

you were sat around a table, laughing at something soap had said, when you decided you wanted another drink.

“hey, i’ll be right back. just getting another drink.” you got up with a smile gracing your face. this was the most laid back the guys had seen you. your hair was down in it’s natural waves, and you finally wore something that wasn’t military-esque clothing. some mom jeans and a light colored graphic tee. your converse lightly tapped the bar’s floor below you.

waving down the bartender, you told her your order and waited patiently for your drink. you all decided to put it on price’s tab without telling him.

you felt a presence next to you. expecting it to be soap or gaz, you turned with a wide smile.

it wasn’t soap, or gaz.

in fact, you didn’t know who this man was. he was tall and had a dark beard. his hair was fluffy and hung above his eyebrows. he was fit and seemed to be around 6′2.

you tilted your head, squinting your eyes, “can i help you, sir?” your smile didn’t leave your face, but it did falter a bit when you saw it wasn’t your boys.

“hey, yeah. i think you can, actually.” he bit his lower lip and made eye contact.

“okay..?”

“you mind if i buy someone this pretty a drink?” his voice was gruff, but it sent the wrong shivers down your spine. you didn’t trust him. not one bit.

“uh, actually, i do mind. you don’t need to do that.” your voice was even and soft. you didn’t want to be rude, yet you really wanted nothing to do with him.

“oh, come on. just one drink! you’re too pretty to be buyin’ your own drinks, sweetheart.” he was persistent, you’d give him that.

“no, really. it’s fine.” you were short with your answer. your eyes narrowed and your smile fell completely.

your brows pulled together when he shifted closer. he lifted a hand to wrap a finger around one of your curls.

“i insist.” he just wouldn’t drop it.

you scoot back, but his hand grips your waist.

you tried to push him off, but his hand slid down to your ass, giving a rough squeeze. ick.

you let out a yelp and his face moved closer and planted the sloppiest, wettest kiss you’ve ever had the displeasure of receiving.

your eyes widened and you kept pushing.

when he pulled back you yelled, “what the fuck! get the hell off me!”

gaz’s head snapped over at the sound of your distress. your small figure was pushing on a man much bigger than you, eyes frantic and full of panic.

“oh, shit. guys.”

“what?”

gaz pointed to where you were struggling across the bar.

the sound of a chair being pushed back and thunderous footsteps headed your way.

“hey! get off ‘em!” soap’s voice sounded over the music, and the man was pulled back.

“they told you to stop. get off.” price gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side. your vision was slightly blurry from tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“i’m good. i’m good, really.” a whisper left your mouth.

“who the fuck even are you guys? can’t a guy get a nice piece of ass in peace? i mean, look at the ti-” the guy was cut off when ghost wound his arm back and punched him in the mouth.

“oh, shit. ghost stop!” your voice was shrill with panic and you jumped forward to grab his arm. but, he managed another punch as the guy stood up. you froze, panicked.

“don’t.” punch. “fucking.” punch. “touch them.” punch.

you took this as your queue to finally grab his arm.

“stop. stop. i’m okay. let’s leave.” hearing your voice made ghost still, and he turned to leave. price dug his wallet out and slammed a few $100 bills on the counter and rushed to follow the rest of you, not before spitting on the sad piece of shit on the ground.

the whole way back to the hotel gaz had his arm in yours, and soap was talking nonsense to get a smile out of you. which worked, by the way.

once back to the hotel, you changed into sweats and threw your hair up in a bun. you grabbed a blanket and left the room, locking your door behind you.

navigating the halls to a certain masked man’s door, you knocked lightly. “ghost? it’s me, grim. can i come in?”

the door opened and ghost took a step back to let you in. he had changed into sweats, as well as a sweatshirt. his mask stayed on, but his eyes gave away enough to see that he was still pissed.

you shuffle in and he closed the door behind you gently.

you sat the blanket on his bed before turning and grabbing his hand, leading him to the bathroom. “c’mon, big guy. let’s look at your hand.” you smiled up at him and turned on the light.

“sit.” your finger pointed to the toilet, and he obliged. grabbing a small towel, you ran it under warm water before standing between his legs and lifting his hand.

you worked in complete silence, wiping the blood from his cracked knuckles. he studies your face the whole time. you were content. after a few minutes, a small chuckle left your mouth.

“s’funny?” his voice was raspy and you laughed a little harder.

“nothing, really. but, you looked so pissed. thank you, by the way. i really appreciate what you did.” you made eye contact with your gentle giant and gave him a toothy smile.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.” he dismissed you, but his eyes crinkled at the edges. he was smiling back.

you finished bandaging his hands with some small talk here and there.

“movie night?” you sounded tired.

“yeah, movie night.” a squeal left your lips and you ran out the bathroom, flopping on the bed.

a small chuckle left his lips, and he crawled under the blanket you were holding up for him. once he settled, you crawled to his side and put your full weight on his left side, and turned on a movie.

———————————————————————————————————————

a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this, loves <3

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ghostbeam · 8 months

Text

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

#tomura shigiraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #ghost.drabble #ghost.writes #sorry was suddenly consumed by art school au thoughts #oil painter tomura u will always be famous #in my brain his work reminds me of Malcom liepke btw #soooo yeah #anyways it’s 4am I’m gonna go sleep now byeeeeee

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jarofstyles · 7 months

Text

Oh Baby, Baby! Five

Series masterlist

Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- Pregnancy, hormones, etc.

WC- 2.3k

---------------

Y/N was certain that she was going to kill someone.

This was why she normally had Harry go to the shops by himself. Her non pregnant self could barely deal with a Saturday crowd. Pregnant Y/N? She was homicidal.

People didn’t know how to walk. How to say ‘pardon me’. How to talk at a normal volume. Her eye was twitching as her hands tightened on the stopping trolly, taking a deep inhale as she watched Harry place a bag of cucumber into the basket. “Think that should be good in the Veg.” He chirped, looking at the list on his phone. She could see the little bubbles being filled in and going down each time he checked off an item. Thankfully he still had a functioning mind because hers was feeling like TV static as she tried to keep herself calm.

Her belly had begun to show a bit more and she was extremely protective of her little bump. Hand rested on it, she self soothed by rubbing over it, her stretchy cotton tee shirt dress moving with her hand. She’d chosen the green because Harry specifically liked her in that color, but she was more than aware of how she had begun to stress sweat and he would more than likely be exposed to the stains it would leave behind.

“Hey..” His hand on her shoulder startled her, making her jump. When had he even approached her? “You okay, love?” His hand shoved the phone into his pocket, instead gently tilting her head up towards him. The look of true concern made her soften her tense shoulders a tad, sighing as she nodded. This newer side to him, having to admit that she was his and he was hers, that they were an actual item, was still somewhat new. It was a weird mix of things that still was hard to understand. On one hand, it spooked her when he was openly affectionate like this, but the bigger side felt like it was natural. Settling into a place it always should have been, perhaps this aspect being the piece she felt somewhat missing in their friendship prior to this.

Harry wasn’t just her best friend anymore. He was her lover. The fucking father of her child! They were going to be around each other forever.

“Yeah.” She said tiredly, letting her face fall into his hand. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, honestly. Knew I needed to get out of the house but I forgot what a madhouse the store turns into on weekends.” A weak smile was pulled to the corner of her lips as his brows furrowed at her answer. Yes, it had been her idea to go. She had been holing up inside of the home and she needed to get some more fresh air and stimulation, but the grocery store was proving to be a bit much.

Pregnancy was a lot more strenuous than she had imagined and she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Mentally it had been taxing, worrying about her abilities to be a mother and also cultivating and nourishing this new relationship with Harry, she had been anxious for a while despite it all. She was hopeful, anyways, because there was no one else she would ever dream of having a baby with.

With all that was going on, Harry had been a saving grace. A shoulder to lean on and a confidant, now that the layers had been shed and she knew that her feelings for him were not at all one sided. He seemed to thrive, actually, by feeling needed. It was something that had initially shocked her because he used to run away or pull back in the face of commitment, but he was already talking about what they’d make a tradition for their baby's birthday, how they were going to do the holidays, if they’d request their families to come together or split their times… It was incredible but also a bit weird to see. He had slid into the role like he had been born for it.

He’d even suggested they attend birthing classes together. Picked up more parenting books than she had. Gave her the prenatal vitamins and changed all the coffee in the house to decaf, much to her dismay. He was excited and happy and it felt bad that at times she felt a bit like a grinch. To which he would remind her that she was the one growing a little baby inside of her and had her body changing. That it was his job to do the other preparations because she needed to focus on keeping herself and the baby healthy. He was infuriatingly understanding.

“M’sorry. I forgot a bit, I kind of space out in my own head.” He mumbled. “Do you want to leave? I can come back later and get some of the stuff.” See? How was he being so good?

“No, no. That’s ridiculous, we’re halfway through the list. I’m just adjusting, I think. Hyperaware.” She laughed. “Just need to get through it. We’re getting lunch after so I can unwind there. The Bluebird Cafe still okay with you?” She asked, letting his hand fall back to her arm.

“Anything that’s good with you. Y’know I’m not picky, babe.” He chuckled. “They’ve got the good sandwich and salad combinations. I’m not on the cleanse anymore.” She had forgotten about that. A juice cleanse was a little ridiculous to her but apparently he said it helped his gut. To her that meant his bowel movements must be incredibly unpleasant. “Let’s power through the other half of the shopping, I’ll stop home and run it up, and then we can go fill your hunger. All good.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t much to argue, instead letting him pull her in for a quick hug and a press of his lips on her head. She really didn’t know what she would do without him.

—----------------

“So.” Harry’s hands folded against one another. Their food order had been taken and Y/N was sat comfortably in the booth across from Harry, her feet tangled with his. He’d ordered for her, being all too aware of what she had been prattling on about in the car, along with a smoothie he just simply knew that she liked. It was little things like that that caught her off guard. How much had he always been paying attention to that she didn’t even realize?

“Yes?” She asked, amused as she ran her hand absentmindedly over the growing swell of her stomach. The habit was human nature and Harry expressed jealousy sometimes that he couldn’t always be stroking over their growing baby, but he wanted to remain somewhat normal. He was already so fastidious about everything else, something neither of them had anticipated in this whole journey, so he didn’t want to smother Y/N with his eagerness.

“How are we….” He leaned on the table on his elbows, hands clasped. “How do we tell the parents?” It was a loaded question considering they really did need to tell them, sooner rather than later. Neither knew Harry and Y/N were even together, let alone that he was fathering a rapidly growing child inside of Y/N’s tummy. They’d kept it quiet for Y/N’s sake and superstition, wanting to make sure she made it into a safer part of the growth to tell people. It had been Y/N’s idea to have a child, even if she had been a bit impulsive, but she was trying to keep this intimate piece just to themselves for as long as they could. What had started as something off the cuff had become even more important to her than she had anticipated- and that was saying a lot.

“I mean, they’re going to be thrilled.” Harry started again, seeing the little wrinkle between her brows that always formed when she thought too hard. “They’ve been rooting for us to get together since we met. I know the baby part is going to kind of… throw things off, but I know they’re going to be overjoyed to learn that we’re havin’ our little Sprout.” The fondness could be seen physically on his features, like he was floating when he spoke about them. Their little baby, the sprout he was keeping track of every week on an app on his phone. He had quite a few downloaded, actually, but one in particular had been purchased with the premium membership.

‘Might be useful after Sprout, too.’ He had simply shrugged when she asked why he bothered paying for the lifetime membership. It still set the butterflies in her stomach on flight whenever she thought of that little instance.

Her bashful smile was his response, brushing imaginary lint off her dress before daring to meet his eyes. Harry had been more confident about this whole thing even though she had been the one to say she wanted it, and it had been like they sort of switched places. His confidence was starting to be a bit infectious.

“I think we should tell them together.” She finally conceded. “I have no idea how, really. We can check pinterest or just tell them? I know it's the first grandchild for both of them so I want it to be special but I don’t want to overdo it. You know?” Y/N knew Harry would get exactly what she meant. “We can do ultrasound pictures in gift bags, or the tee shirts that say grandma on them? I’ve never done it before.” She peeped, flushing to herself. No shit, this was their first child. This would all be a learning curve for everyone involved.

“No, no. I understand, pretty.” He reached out to grab her fingers that had been fiddling with the edge of the paper napkin, ripping it up slightly. A nervous habit. Instead he spread her fingers out and curled his around hers, running his index finger down the middle of her palm. “I think the ultrasound frame would be the best option. A keepsake that they’ll both like. Maybe we can have them over for a spring dinner, do it then?” The calming touch had it’s intended effect, Harry’s sharp eyes watching as her shoulders relaxed slightly and she nodded at the idea. “Perfect. I don’t mind keeping it to just us for a bit but, you know how gossipy people are. They’re gonna start talking about us going to the appointments and shopping. Don’t want to get everything online.” Harry had been a big advocate for them going out to have the full experience. He wanted to help her choose a crib, a playpen, a baby monitor- all after scouring the safety ratings and reviews, obviously- He wanted to be the one who put together the crib, the one who helped build the nursery. He’d expressed how involved he wanted to be not only in the baby’s day to day, but her pregnancy. How could she say no? How could she not lean all the way into it when she saw just how incredibly happy it made him?

“I know. Everyone is nosy.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “It’s okay, though. I just want to make sure random people don’t come up and feel my stomach. Maybe get me a sign that says ‘ask before touching’ to put on me.” Her joke made him chuckle but it was a real concern of hers. Y/N liked to keep her physical touch to a minimal with strangers. Harry wouldn’t stand for her being uncomfortable. “It’s different around family, like if we go to family stuff, but a lot of strangers just go up to people and touch and it’s weird.” A fake shudder exaggerated her disgust.

“Yeah, m’not sure why that’s a thing, my love. I’ll work something out.” Knowing him, he may very well get her a sign to stick on her tummy, but she would see. “We’ve got the telling our parents squared away, so I suppose my next question is when would you like to go shopping?” The eagerness for that was not well hidden, if he was even trying to hide it. Y/N doubted it.��

“Probably soon after we tell them? We can start looking online. You’ve already got the baby locks taken care of.” Her eyes rolled in her head, making him pout. That was still something that he took seriously! He’d seen too many horror stories. “When Sprout, y’know, Blooms, we are going to be overwhelmed and probably busy. I don’t want there to be an accident and we just forget to babyproof something because we have other stuff going on.” He paused, bringing her hand to his face to kiss the knuckles. “I want this to be as stress free for you as possible. Just want you to focus on growing our baby, taking care of yourself. So m’gonna try and take care of stuff in the background so there's no worry, or sudden panic for you.”

Harry truly managed to blow her mind every day. Little things like this, his pure thoughtfulness made her a bit speechless. How she’d managed to snag the best baby daddy of all time, she didn’t know, but it would be something she was always thankful for. There wasn’t enough time to thank him for it, their food approaching as she was trying to find the words, but she was quick to squeeze his hand back and snug their legs up a bit more as she brought the straw of her smoothie to her mouth.

Life had somehow stuck her with the best person to grow with.

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nouvellevqgue · 8 months

Text

✦ OH DAMN NEVER SEEN THAT COLOR BLUE, C. LECLERC

red is indeed his color, but what if he switched to blue?

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sza, shakira, and 459,725 more

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charles_leclerc added a photo to their story!

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 740,129 more

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👤: charles_leclerc

view all 89,570 comments...

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ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭

charles_leclerc

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view all 259,170 comments...

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yourusername

liked by brielarson, isahernaez, charles_leclerc, and 729,566 more

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view all 62,420 comments...

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yourusername added to their story!

caption: gotcha

#✶!#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff

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drunk-on-dk · 2 years

Text

His Hoodie | Choi Seungcheol (m)

✦pairing: college!Seungcheol x fem!reader

✦genre: smut (minors DNI), some fluff and angst maybe?

✦wc: 4.8k

✦summary: Seungcheol's fashion was something you took note of daily, so why did his glasses drive you absolutely mad?

NSFW warnings under the cut, minors do not read, 18+ only

✦warnings: frat boy Seungcheol; nervous reader; no specific pronouns used, but reader has female anatomy; pet names (baby); seungcheol is a bit degrading; dom!Seungcheol; switch!reader; unprotected sex (big no no, pls be safe with your partners); fingering; oral (female receiving); creampie; choking a bit; oh god please tell me if I missed anything.

✦a/n: this was birthed from the absolute brain rot of Seungcheol's vlive with Jeonghan... im so sorry for this, i will rot in hell for going crazy over a man in glasses ik it... please enjoy (this is not necessarily proofread, i shall get to that tomorrow)

The day Seungcheol walked into the lecture with those wire-framed glasses on, you had to do a double-take of the boy. His usual street style was substituted for a softer look today. A simple graphic tee, worn jeans, and glasses you’ve never seen him wear before framed his features so nicely. You’d never admit it to him, but you closely took note of Seungcheol’s outfits every time you saw him, and seeing him dressed so soft and casual like this was almost a breath of fresh air. This look was a new one that you’d archive with the rest of his outfits that sat in the back of your mind.

Seungcheol and you were friends, close enough at least to comfortably fall into conversation about things further than surface level conversation starters each class. A little bit of flirty banter here and there as well, as he was fun to get worked up.

You hung around Seungcheol’s frat quite often, being closer friends with some of his fellow brothers than you were with him. Of course, since he ran in the same circle, you were inevitably introduced to him, and the frequency that you came by and hung out with them almost warranted you a spot in the frat yourself. So much so that Vernon had to set a curfew on how late you could stay after parties, informing you that you were picking up on their mannerisms too much and that you should really save yourself while you can. That didn’t last long of course, typically spending the night on Vernon’s futon, Wonwoo’s couch, or in Mingyu’s bed (he’d only carried you there for comfort and he’d sleep on the floor, of course).

Otherwise, you’ve expressed interest in Seungcheol’s clothing before, typically finding yourself wandering into his room late at night when the temperatures would drop after day drinking to snatch an overpriced sweatshirt from his collection. At first, he’d whine and pout, cherry red lips mumbling out that you shouldn’t steal his clothes without his permission. Now, he doesn’t even falter when he sees you wearing his stuff, only occasionally mumbling that you better not spill your drink on yourself or his sweatshirt, steadying you whenever he’d see you stumble.

Seungcheol always looked cool, darker colors and baggy clothes making up half his wardrobe, and you admired that about him. Even when his hair would be a mess from rolling out of bed, an expensive beanie would smooth down his ratty mane. But this, this look was new to you, not that his designer t-shirt strayed from his usual styles, nor did his trendy baggy jeans, but the glasses that sat so nicely on his nose made your cheeks warm after staring for too long. Admittedly, you always thought Seungcheol was cute, but these made him impossibly cuter. Honestly, your fascination with Seungcheol’s style was more so a front for your true feelings for him.

Seungcheol sat down next to you with a huff, pulling his books out of his bag and only peering up at you upon noticing you were watching him closely. Accusatorily, he asks with a jerk of his chin, “what are you looking at? What’s up with you today?”

Snapping back into reality and diverting your attention away from him, you began shuffling with your notebook. Upon flipping to the most recent page of notes, you avoid his question and ask, “since when have you started wearing glasses?”

“These?” Seungcheol asks, readjusting the frames and you peak over to see him struggling to find a comfortable spot for them. “Soonyoung knocked my monthly contacts into the toilet the other night, and my next prescription is delayed.”

“Ah,” you hum, nodding slowly as you look over at him once more, eyes meeting his fleetingly and quickly turning your attention away.

Unbeknownst to you, this made Seungcheol feel extremely insecure, tugging on your arm slightly and calling out, “hey, what’s with that reaction? Do I look stupid in these? Please tell me if I do, Y/N. See, this is why I don’t wear-”

You’re quick to cut him off upon realizing you sent him into a spiral, wide eyes staring into his again as you hurriedly explain yourself, “no, they look good on you, seriously. I’ve just never seen you wear those before.”

He’s back to being smug again, arms crossing over his chest and leaning back into his chair, dimples shadowing his cheeks upon a small smile appearing on his lips. “So, you’re telling me you like them on me?”

This time you pull on his arm and roll your eyes, “shut up, Seungcheol, I won’t hesitate to rip those glasses right off your face and toss them right in the trash.” You refocus your attention on your professor who just entered the room, ignoring the slight chuckle from Seungcheol, and trying to hide the blush that hasn’t left your cheeks since you first saw him.

Oddly enough, you felt irrationally tense the whole class, your nerves never settling even when Seungcheol pointed out your leg was bouncing at an alarming pace. You felt your ears heat up when his knee bumped yours, a quiet whisper asking if you were okay and soft eyes peeking over your shoulder.

No, you were not okay, you thought to yourself, knowing something was terribly wrong with your brain and hormones when your heart raced from the way Seungcheol peered over his glasses at you.

Part of you was panicking at the suppressed feelings bubbling up inside of you, hating how this side of Seungcheol struck a chord inside of you, his mini act of insecurity earlier making you wish you could just lean over and let him know that he’d look good in anything he’d wear.

By the time class was dismissed, Seungcheol had to wave a hand in front of your vision, chuckling as he informed you that class was over. “Earth to, Y/N? Wanna walk back to the house with me? I’m assuming you’re getting dinner with Vernon before the party tonight?”

You’re stuttering out a lie before you can even think straight, shaking your head profusely, “actually, Vernon and I aren’t getting dinner tonight, so you can just head back without me.”

You see Seungcheol slightly pout, a slightly confused and concerned expression gracing his features. “But you always get dinner with Vernon on Fridays.”

“Yeah, well,” God damn it he’s so cute, you can’t even think straight when he has that pout on his face. You’re ready to tear the glasses off his face as well. “I had to rain check today, promised I’d meet a friend at the cafeteria instead.”

“What friend? I could walk with you to the cafeteria and then head back.”

You’re frustrated by how inquisitive Seungcheol is, annoyed that you were even lying to him in the first place, but he was just making you so damn nervous that you wouldn’t dare to walk the distance to the frat house with him. You’re quick to start packing your stuff up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and holding a hand out to stop him from following you, “don’t be so nosy, I’ll see you later tonight at the party.”

You briskly stalk out of the classroom, being sure to head in the direction of the cafeteria before coming to a halting stop in a safe corner. Hastily, you text Vernon to cancel your dinner plans for the night, letting him know you’ll explain the last-minute cancellation later. It amazed you that Seungcheol knew your schedule so well. Usually, he had plans of his own after class, typically never walking back with you to the frat house, and you never mentioned your dinner tradition with Vernon to him before.

That night at the party you avoided Seungcheol at all costs. Vernon knew something weird was up with you when he found you gnawing on your straw in the corner of the room. His eyes followed your gaze that was narrowed in on Seungcheol chatting with a girl on the opposite side of the room, his fingers timidly readjusting his glasses as he laughed at something the girl said. He could see the way you held your red solo cup a little firmer, the plastic crinkling in your grasp. Vernon was smart enough to understand what was going on with you, but he refrained from saying anything. He always had an inkling that you liked Seungcheol, and he wanted you to organically come to that conclusion yourself. It wasn’t like Vernon to interject anyways.

However, Vernon could also see what you couldn’t. He’d notice the way Seungcheol’s eyes would roam the room in search of you, noting the disappointment when you’d disappear from his sight. All Vernon could do is sip on his drink and shake his head at the way you both seemed oblivious.

This went on for a week or so more, even going to the extent to avoid him in his own house. You were honestly freaked out by the sudden onslaught of feelings you had for him. You hated the way your heart pounded each time you saw him. The glasses no longer being the root cause for your racing heart, but the way his chuckle sounded from down the hall, his gummy smile when he’d spot you across the room, and even the way he’d scold you in class for ignoring him made your stomach flutter.

Seungcheol finally cornered you one night, grabbing ahold of your wrist as you tried to quietly pad down the halls of the frat house. You were crashing on Vernon’s futon again, only venturing out in hopes to hunt down a bottle of fresh water or a miraculously filled Brita somewhere in the kitchen. You almost screamed in terror until you realized it was just Seungcheol, his hand still covering your mouth as an extra measure when he yanked you into his room.

Seungcheol sat you on his bed much to your dismay, closing his bedroom door behind him as he stared down at you, arms crossed and eyes squinting through his wireframed glasses. He continued to survey you, tongue poking at his cheek as he leaned over to catch your attention when you focused your sight down at your fingers that nervously picked at a hangnail.

“Seriously, Y/N, what has been up with you,” he finally whines, clearly exasperated by your recent behavior, “you won’t even give me the time of day lately. You haven’t stolen one of my damn sweatshirts in a month. Did I do something wrong?”

Your mouth opens slightly, hands falling to your sides as you were unsure of how to explain yourself. You knew it was unfair how you were treating your friend, but you’d only recently come to terms with your feelings for him. How could you admit to him that those stupid glasses of his made something in you click? How could you tell him it was wrong to steal his sweatshirt when you found comfort in his scent and the fact that it was his?

You must have been taking too long, Seungcheol noticing the slight way you shivered, finally taking in your appearance. You were in one of Vernon’s shirts, the oversized tee almost swallowing you whole, your tiny little night shorts peeking out slightly from under the hem of the shirt. With a huff, Seungcheol pulled the sweatshirt off his own body and tossed it into your lap. This was not only because you looked cold, but also for his own sanity. Before you could protest, Seungcheol was quick to cut you off, “just take the damn sweatshirt. You look freezing, and I can’t have you walking around in those tiny little shorts.”

This is what grabbed your attention, hands gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt as you finally peered up at him. You narrowed your eyes at him this time, noticing how his cheeks were slightly blushed, unsure if it was from his frustration with your behavior, or if you could possibly have the same effect on him as he did with you.

However, returning to some sense of normalcy, you bit back at him, “you can’t tell me what to wear, Seungcheol. I’ll walk downstairs in these tiny little shorts just because you said I can’t.”

This seemed to fire him up back up, stepping closer towards you and tilting his chin up. You found yourself standing up, discarding his sweatshirt on the bed as you tried to assert some dominance yourself. He almost made you falter at the way he peered at you from under his glasses, but this time it only made you more frustrated.

You finally broke, the way Seungcheol stared at you as he breathed deeply through his nostrils made you act irrationally, ripping his glasses right off his face and placing them on his nightstand. “If I can’t wear my shorts, then you can’t wear these damn glasses.”

He laughed incredulously at this, “are you serious, Y/N? I can’t see without those, that’s not even fair.”

“Good,” you spit out, pivoting on your heel to head straight for his door, “then you won’t be able to see me walk out.”

Seungcheol did not like this one-bit, sturdy arm wrapping around your waist as he seethed, infuriated by how stubborn you were being and just wanted to get a normal conversation out of you. Keeping you in his grasp, he leaned over to grab his glasses from the nightstand, forcibly turning you around to face him.

You didn’t fight him at this point, feeling exhausted and crumbling at the way Seungcheol’s arm felt like a ring of fire around your waist. His large hand that was splayed across your lower back had goosebumps arising on your sensitive skin. Your lower stomach fluttered at the way his thumb slightly rubbed over the curve of your spine, heat spreading throughout your body as you attempted to say something.

Seungcheol doesn’t necessarily soften, but he doesn’t seem so annoyed anymore. He studies you again, a lightbulb going off in his head before he speaks, “by any chance, do these glasses affect you potentially the same way those little shorts affect me?”

You feel impossibly hot after his question, hoping that the dim lighting of his room prevents him from noticing how your cheeks warm even more. You let him pull you in closer, your torso pressing into his as he attempts to test the waters of your relationship. The hand that isn’t wrapped around you makes it up to your jaw, calloused fingers wrapping around your delicate neck as he stares into you.

“If your pulse says anything, I’d believe you were attracted to me,” his voice is lower now, mockingly whispering closer to your lips as you struggle to utter out a word, your lungs working overtime from the way his touch was affecting you.

His grip on your neck tightens slightly, your chin angling up towards him so that he can stare directly into your eyes. His lips were painfully close to yours, making your lips tingle in anticipation.

“Fuck,” you finally choke out, your lips brushing Seungcheol’s slightly before he uses his grasp on your jaw to keep you at a safe distance. “I need you to kiss me, Seungcheol.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, baby,” Seungcheol is smug, wasting no time in pressing his lips to yours. It’s messy and hard, both of you immediately fighting for dominance as you lock lips. The hand that gripped your jaw has now traveled to the back of your neck, using this to his advantage as he controls the pace. His other hand on your back trails to your ass, massaging the plump mound as the kiss quickly heats up, your own hands roaming his firm chest.

You buck your hips into Seungcheol’s at his touch, earning a groan from him as he nibbles at your lip, tongue slipping past your lips as you let out a moan yourself. Seungcheol finds himself pulling you with him as he backs up towards his bed, never breaking his lips from yours as he sits down on the plush surface, pulling you atop his lap to straddle him.

Seungcheol wouldn’t dare to let you go now, only pulling away when he begins to feel overwhelmed by the way your hips roll against his, needing to regain some dominance as you grind against his growing erection.

This proved to be a mistake though, your lips immediately reattaching to his neck as he grips your hips in hopes to slow down the way you rock against him. He can feel your breasts through the thin fabric of the tee, the feeling of your firm nipples making him dizzy as he attempts to come to his senses.

“Fuck, you’re so needy, baby,” he growls out, flipping you over onto the bed with ease. You gasp at his strength, hips keening up towards him as he pushes a hand against you lower abdomen to keep your hips from chasing his, another hand finding purchase around your throat again.

His hand that was once on your abdomen has now traced its way to the wet spot on your night shorts. His fingers press at your heat, the pressure on your clit making you gasp out, neck straining in Seungcheol’s gasp as you arch into his touch. He coos mockingly at you, “does that feel good, baby? I love the way your pulse quickens under my touch too, and how fucking hot and wet you are already.”

You feel breathless at the way his fingers rub firmly over the fabric that covers your cunt, hands gripping at the arm of the hand that is wrapped around your neck. You could breathe perfectly fine, but you needed to hold onto something, preferably him.

“Seungcheol,” you breathe out between baited breaths, “n-need your fingers, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hums, pulling your shorts off in one go, and exposing your bare pussy to the cool air of his room. You can tell he notices the way your heart rate picks up, his thumb pressed firmly against your pulse as he breathes deeply at the way your legs spread for him. “Such a dirty baby, wearing just these shorts without any underwear beneath them… one would think you’re trying to get with Vernon if I didn’t have you right here in my grip.”

“Pl-please, touch me,” you’d be wailing if it wasn’t for the firm grip he had on your neck, finally releasing you to hold his weight over you as he experimentally rolled thumb over your swollen clit, the way you grinded against his bulge almost driving you over the edge earlier.

You jerk from just the slightest touch, his lips connecting with your neck as he continues to circle his thumb over your clit. A single finger of his slips in between your folds as he collects some of your essence before slipping another finger in. You’re moaning from the way his fingers curl into you, hands tangling into his hair as he suckles at your neck, whispering dirty things into your skin as he picks up his pace fingering into you.

You almost lose it when he looks up at you, lips swollen from being pressed so firmly against your neck, glasses slightly fogged from his hot breath, and burying his face into your neck. Your hips are bucking into his palm as he continues to curl and scissor his fingers inside of your walls, you’re thrashing in his grip as you need more from him, the pleasure continuing to build up in your abdomen. “More, Seungcheol, fuck, I need more.”

“My needy little baby,” he’s chuckling darkly into your neck, contrasting the sweet innocent look of his glasses, the Seungcheol you know resurfacing as he trails his lips down your body. He expertly continues to finger you as his lips pause at your nipples, the hard peaks poking through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, and Seungcheol wraps his lips around them, moistening the fabric and running his hot tongue over the nub. He continues to work down your body, teeth nipping at your shirt as he pushes a hand underneath it, raising the fabric over your waist as a hand palms at your breast.

He continues to massage at the peaks, fingers tweaking your nipples as his mouth finally makes it down to your cunt, his tongue darting out to press against your clit. You’re pathetic in his hold, your hands only working to push his face deeper into your heat as he licks at your pussy, fingers still mercilessly working you towards your release.

What drives you over the edge is the way he looks up at you from under his glasses, your vision becoming hazy as your orgasm washes over you. He mutters how much of a dirty, needy baby you are directly into your cunt, your juices covering his chin and glasses foggy as his tongue coaxes you through your release.

You flinch at the way he quickly pulls his fingers from in between your walls, shocked by the way he easily manhandles you when pulling you up to a sitting position. He’s tearing his glasses off at this point, tossing them to the opposite end of the bed as he’s pulling your shirt off your body. He needs to be as close to you as he can possibly be, no longer allowing the pesky frames to keep him from pressing his face in between your breasts as he nibbles on the sensitive skin.

“You’re so hot,” he’s growling into you, your shaky hands pulling down his sweats as he continues to suckle at your chest, sure to leave bruises on your skin for only him to know tomorrow.

“So are you,” you’re gasping out, hand brushing over his cock, shocked by the shear girth and length as you release him from the confines of his sweats. “Fuck, Seungcheol, you’re huge.”

“Perfect for you then,” he says smugly, pulling away from your chest to pull his shirt off, and you’re falling back onto the bed, hand tracing over the tip of his length to spread precum down the shaft. “Perfect for my needy little baby. Perfect for this needy little pussy.”

He crawls over you, pulling your hands away to run his tip over your soaked folds, tip teasing at your entrance as he gathers your arousal on his length. You’re chasing his hips, trying to encourage him to slip between your walls and fuck you already.

“So needy for you, Cheol,” you’re moaning out when he finally pushes the tip in, hips bucking in an attempt to take him in.

“Still so tight,” he’s groaning, bucking shallowly into you as you hiss from the stretch. One of his hands has found its way around your throat again, loving the way your pulse falters at each shallow thrust, slowly being sucked in by your walls deeper and deeper each time.

Seungcheol loses himself in the way you gasp, hips bottoming out against yours as your warm walls fully take him in. It’s almost painful how pleasurable you feel wrapped around him, the way you grip his length so tightly, teeth seething into your neck as he tries to pull out only to be pulled back in by your throbbing walls.

He’s thankful for how breathless you are, glad you aren’t making too much noise this late at night in the house, hoping that no one else hears the pretty noises you’re making as you adjust to his size.

Seungcheol experimentally grinds into you, hips rolling into yours as you let out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard, “fuck, baby, let me hear that again.”

You’re moaning out even more, his lips reattaching to yours to capture each moan as he begins to thrust in and out of you. His hand is no longer wrapped around your neck, but he swears he can feel your pulse from how tightly your pussy is wrapped around him.

He needs to be deeper in you, needs to feel every inch of you as he grabs one of your legs and pulls it over his shoulder, pounding even deeper into you. He’s swallowing all of your moans, burning the pretty noise into his memory as he loses himself in between your walls.

You’re so flexible, so pliable for him as he continues to thrust in and out of you. He doesn’t need his glasses when you’re this close to him, pulling away from your lips to watch how your mouth parts in pleasure, hair displayed around you like a halo as he fucks you mercilessly.

Seungcheol can feel how your walls flutter around his length, your pussy clenching as he continues to hit you right where he almost has you screaming, but instead you’re biting his shoulder for relief, blubbering nonsense as you cry into him. “Such a good, baby, staying quiet just for me to hear.”

“Seungcheol, can I please cum?” You’re crying out into his shoulder, legs shaking over his shoulders as he repeatedly hits your g-spot.

“Fuck,” he’s choking out, deep voice slightly faltering as you so nicely ask for his permission. He’d won this round, proving to have staked his dominance over you. “Go ahead and cum for me. My needy baby deserves it.”

Your back is arching, the coil inside of you snapping as he grants you permission with one extra hard thrust, arms reaching over your head as you grip the sheets tightly. You’re only egged on upon looking up at him, waves of pleasure shocking you watching as his jaw clenches when he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the pleasure burning through you and making you moan out in pure ecstasy.

The sight of you finishing is enough to make him fall over, burying his face into your neck as his hips begin to stutter into yours. Hot, thick ropes of cum fill you up as he releases from the feeling of your spasming walls. He slowly thrusts into you some more, overstimulating both of you as your pulse slows down, only then pulling his softening length out of you to watch his cum drip from between your folds.

He reaches to pull his glasses back on, watching as the white liquid drips from your hole, and pouting at the sight. You’re still gasping for air, hips rising at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you.

“Shit, baby,” he’s quickly scrambling off the bed, going to grab a clean cloth. “Let me clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you’re whispering appreciatively, letting Seungcheol take care of you as you no longer have an ounce of energy. He finds you absolutely endearing when you ask for what you initially ventured out for, “can I have some water please?”

He chuckles, dimples appearing as he nods, grabbing the flask of cold water from his nightstand and handing it to you. He watches as you gulp it down, looking impossibly cute after the events that just took place, pulling on his sweats to join you back on the bed after you hand him the half-empty water bottle.

Seungcheol can’t help but feel giddy at the way you finally pull on his sweatshirt. The butterflies that erupt in his stomach are not easy to be ignored when you look so beautiful in his clothing.

“Absolutely perfect,” he mumbles out, hands smoothing out your matted hair as you move closer to him. He much prefers his sweatshirt on you than Vernon’s t-shirt. He basks in the way your cheeks glow bright red in the dim lighting of his room, shivering from the way your tiny fingers readjust the glasses on his face.

“Seungcheol,” you mutter hesitantly, and he hums, staring at your endearingly and coaxing you to continue. “These damn glasses are what made me lose my mind over you.”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at you, all the puzzle pieces lining up on how weird you’ve been acting since that one lecture. He nuzzles his nose into yours, “well, let’s thank Soonyoung for flushing my contacts down that toilet then, or maybe it would have taken years to get you to fall for me.”

You snort at that, snuggling into his arms as he pulls you under the covers. “That’s not true, I was already head over heels for you. Just didn’t know it yet.”

Seungcheol hums in delight, letting you remove the glasses from his face to pull him into yet another deep kiss. Seungcheol thinks he can fall asleep like this every night with you in his arms, loving the way you mold to his body and how soft you feel in his hoodie. Seungcheol also loves when you walk into class with his hoodie from the night before, no longer stealing his hoodies, but rather receiving them directly from the owner.

#svthub #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #choi seungcheol smut #scoups brain rot is real

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 2 years

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Unicorn Color Me Youth T-Shirt with Washable Markers

Perfect gift for any youth that loves Unicorns! Granny & Grandpa have the perfect arts and crafts coloring T-Shirts for your child; for their birthday party, a gift to a loved one as our Color Me T-Shirts are available in Toddler, Youth, and Adult! Our Color Me T-shirts are not just for children; it is something the whole family can enjoy doing together. Instead of playing video games, watching television have Granny & Grandpa’s Color Me T-shirts out and watch your family’s creativity grow….our Color Me T-shirts are a great activity for a fun family night! Granny & Grandpa’s Kids Coloring T-Shirts are for Parties, Family Night and More! Have a great time coloring in our Color Me T-Shirts.

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This package includes: T-shirt and one package of Washable Markers. If you would like the art work, you will need to purchase permeant marks, as permeant markers are NOT included with this package.

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After a package leaves my hands with the post office, Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations is not held responsible. Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

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Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

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Granny & Grandpa’s Kids Coloring T-Shirts are for Parties, Family Night and More! Have a great time coloring in our Color Me T-Shirts.

Granny & Grandpa have the perfect arts and crafts coloring T-Shirts for your child; for their birthday party, a gift to a loved one as our Color Me T-Shirts are available in Toddler, Youth, and Adult! Our Color Me T-shirts are not just for children; it is something the whole family can enjoy doing together. Instead of playing video games, watching television have Granny & Grandpa’s Color Me T-shirts out and watch your family’s creativity grow….our Color Me T-shirts are a great activity for a fun family night!

This package includes: T-shirt and one package of Super Washable Markers. If you would like the art work, you will need to purchase permeant marks, as they are not included with this package.

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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[vol i] [vol ii] [vol iii]

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie is slowly becoming easier to live with you’re not sure if you’re just used to his disgusting behavior or if he’s truly trying to change. You make a schedule for chores and when/who/what time showers will be taken, chaos ensues on both Eddie and you. Eddie reveals a side of him that reader hasn’t seen/ noticed before.

W/C: 6.4k

A/N: if you were looking for some disgusting! Eddie smut this is the chapter for you babe.

Warnings: NO MINORS! Smut, blow jobs, rough sexual acts, degrading, daddy!kink, vomit, crude language (as if any of my fics don’t have this)

S/O: @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @boomhauer @mopeymopeymouse @chestylarouxx @banished-big-ope-vibes @carolmunson @newlips for helping me beta read, come up with dialogue, pacing, letting me insert them throughout the fic, helping me breakdown how this disgusting little mf would act in certain situations + everything in between! You guys are the best! If you aren’t already— follow them.

You couldn’t deny that things had gotten better with having Eddie as a roommate (not that you would ever express that to him) but living with the overgrown child was slightly very slightly, like a teeny tiny bit, better than it was before.

After living in his disgusting cluster fuck of a room for a week, Eddie finally sat down amongst his heap of mixed dirty and clean clothes and organized it. The disaster made your eye twitch every time you walked past his room in the morning and got a whiff of his stench, reeking of weed and Doritos, you finally convinced him to get it done, and in typical Eddie fashion— it came with a price.

After bargaining for days and nearly pulling your hair out because all he wanted was a single pair of your panties—

“Why? So you can hold them up like that dork in Sixteen Candles to show all your nerd friends?”

“Babe, the ladies I fuck don’t wear panties.”

He finally settled on a six pack of Busch Light, and for you to do his laundry for a week.

“Remember to separate my delicates, sweetheart.”

Fucking pig.

The only thing delicate about Eddie was his ego when you told him his hair was thinning out on top, (it definitely wasn’t, he had more hair than cousin It) but you needed the upper hand, and criticizing his hair was the way to do just that.

His bed frame and the oak dressers he had ordered, finally arrived. Allowing him to put away his never ending collection of band tee’s and holy jeans. Clearing a path for his floor.

“Holy shit, is that the carpet?” You ask, standing in the door frame before your shift at the salon, toothbrush in your hand, minty dollop of toothpaste atop it.

He’s elbow deep in the dresser, foregoing folding anything but instead shoving the clothes haphazardly into the shallow drawers and slamming them shut with his legs, or his hip.

“Wow, Tooty, you’re hilarious,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “but since you asked, yes, it does, match the drapes.”

A smile spreads across his lips. Another normal conversation turning into a sexual innuendo. He couldn’t be prouder of the way you walked right into that. Since you told him what happened to Eyeball he really has been holding back his usual gross behavior, but sometimes it was just a slip of the tongue for him. Involuntary action.

You turn to leave but he stops you, crossing the room at record speed and placing a ringed hand on your wrist, the surprising warmth from his hand burning your skin.

“Hey, uh, can I get your opinion quick?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think the groupies give a shit what color boxers you wear.”

“Wow, okay— that’s the wrong answer! But I’m talking about this.”

He points to the shelf crammed full of his odd knick knacks. It originally belonged to Nancy, but she had left it behind. Inside of it were a hoard of books. Lord of the Rings, something that looked like manuals for Dungeons & Dragons—of course he’s still playing that— a plethora of Stephen King books, and a full— more than likely sticky— stack of playboys. Go figure.

“What about it?”

“Do you think it looks good here or should I move it under the window?” Eddie asks, hands out wide measuring and comparing in arms length the distance under the window and the width of the book shelf.

You take a step into his room, every square inch of wall was covered in posters, your former bed sheets graffitied with his band, hung on one wall, the opposite held a kitchen knife stabbed through the drywall.

“What are you trying to do, feng shui?”

“Bless you.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “You sneezed, and me, being the pinnacle Christian son that I am, I blessed you, now should I keep this here?”

It took you a minute to comprehend what the hell just happened and why.

“Blessed by Eddie Munson— that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard,” you snort, a smile twisted on your lips as you look at the overgrown man child huff about where to put his shelf, shoving your toothbrush into your mouth, “looks fine there.”

He did start cleaning up after himself, even offering to vacuum the living room in exchange for you making supper most nights. Begging you to make the lasagna again after he ate almost the entire pan the last time. He even decided to get take out on his one night a week to cook. Thank God because you couldn’t handle one more night of burnt, made-in-the-toaster, grilled cheese or using orange juice as a replacement when the milk was gone for cereal.

You learned the hard way that you needed to buy two separate gallons of milk, after watching Eddie drink straight from the jug, a dripping white mustache formed on his upper lip as he licked it suggestively, “Got milk?” He’d ask before roaring with laughter.

The next few weeks with Eddie as your roommate went rather smoothly. With you working at the salon and him working long hours at Boom’s Auto shop, you two came home at almost the same time every night. He would show up covered in grease and reeking of motor oil. His work coveralls, branding a white and red labeled patch with his name on them, had the sleeves cut off, showcasing his muscled arms and the wide array of tattoos prickling up and down them, shoulder to wrist. He wore a sweaty bandana wrapped around his head, rotating between a black or a red one, depending on the day.

You didn’t mind doing his laundry since his pockets were always full of either loose bills or the occasional joint, which you would keep, and smoke later with Robin and Steve, giggling watching the stars as you laid out on blankets in the backyard.

On Saturday nights, he usually played with the band, scoring a gig at the Hideout or working at the bar til closing time, helping Tom bartend a little until Walt got back from vacation. He stumbled in at night knocking over a lamp and almost falling backwards down the basement steps. He’d pass out for a greater half of the next day, waking in the afternoon with a raspy voice and smelling like cheap cologne.

One particular Sunday morning, he stumbled out of his room, wearing black boxer briefs, and a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes like a little kid.

“Mornin’” he grumbled opening the fridge and diving in for his notorious pickles, tilting it to his lips and drinking straight from the jar.

You shake your head, sitting at the table and sorting through the mail. Your hair in a clip and wearing an oversized crew neck sweater, your mauve fingernails flicking through the envelope flaps, jotting down what’s due and when. “It’s 1 in the afternoon, Eddie.”

He smacks his lips loudly and faces you, fishing a pickle from the jar with his bare hands, “metal has no time limits, Tooty, we play until the bar shuts down.” He makes his way towards you, wearing one sock and chomping on his pickle.

You notice something on his stomach, a new tattoo? Maybe? Riding low on his waist and almost dipping below his underwear. The closer he gets you can make out the writing, a permanent marker phone number from a groupie written on his lower abs.

You point your pen towards his stomach, “gonna get that thing tattooed on, make it official, that Eddie the freak Munson has at least one adoring fan?”

He looks down, a smile pressing on his lips, “aww no need to be sad sweetheart,” he says lowering himself into a chair beside you, “there’s plenty of me to go around, and besides, I thought good little nuns couldn’t fuck, saving themselves for God.. or are you one of the dirty ones, showing your tits for cash so you can gamble?” He winks and laughs as you shove his shoulder trying to throw him out of the chair.

“You’re so gross!”

“And yet, I’m still here.” the Cheshire Cat smile planted on his lips.

Still. You had to admit, no matter how nasty his jokes were or how annoying he could be— having Eddie around wasn’t that bad.

“Tooty!” Eddie yells through the bathroom door bouncing from one foot to another, banging on the door with an open palm, “I’m going to piss my pants if you don’t hurry up!”

You had only been in the shower for ten minutes. When you walked past his room this morning with sleepy eyes and a deep yawn, metal music blared from his bedroom along with the annoying beep of his alarm clock, but the prince of filth was fast asleep.

“The schedule that you made says I get the bathroom first on Fridays, which is today!”

The schedule you had designed for Eddie and yourself consisted of 7 vertical columns one for each day of the week, and 5 horizontal columns: showering, laundry day, dishes, cooking, garbage. You had more days in the cooking column than Eddie, just like he had more days in the garbage column than you did. It evened out.

“Wrong— you were supposed to get the bathroom at 7, it’s now past 7:30 so it’s my turn,” you correct, putting a generous amount of body wash on your loofah and foaming it up, white suds cleansing your skin, “not my fault you can’t wake up to your alarm.”

“Christ, seriously just open the door! I’m fuckin’ dancing around out here like a little kid!”

“Can’t hear you,” you sing out to him, laughing silently beneath the spray of water.

You hear the feverish jiggle of the brass handle on the door and heavy footsteps as he stomps away. Oh the joys of victory. You bask in the delight of getting a one up on Eddie. Something that rarely happened in the few weeks he has been living with you. Slathering conditioner in your hair and rinsing, you exit the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day.

Opening the bathroom door you expected Eddie to barrel through you to get to the bathroom, you’re taken aback when you hear faint yelling coming from outside.

“… piss in the front yard of my own house— I will! Go back to trimming your hedges with your toddler sized shorts and mind your own goddamn—,”

“Eddie!”

He’s standing barefoot in the middle of the lawn, his navy boxer briefs the only clothing he has on. Double middle fingers raised in the early morning sky aimed towards your neighbor across the street, Mr. Derry, the neighborhood watch dog. He was an older man, no kids, no wife. Retired. And a grade A pain in the ass.

Eddie turns and looks to you, pink blush creeping over his cheeks, “…business.” Eyes wide in innocence as if he hasn’t done anything wrong.

You’re still in your towel, hair soaking wet down your back, watching as this crazed lunatic you have as a roommate terrorizes the neighborhood, one flash of his dick at a time.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

“Gracing the common folk of Cherry Lane with my morning wood, yeah take a picture and frame it you fuckin’ perv!”

Yanking harder you get him inside and slam the door. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

You open your mouth to speak but Eddie has already started explaining.

“Listen, I had to piss bad, like really bad. You could have just unlocked the door but no, Ms. Uptight-independent Tooty with your rules and schedules—” he stops and takes a breath. After your conversation a few weeks ago about the downfall of Eyeball and your own family abandoning you, Eddie had been trying to be more reasonable about things, more cautious about the way he worded things. Not trying to twist the knife lodged into your chest that had been driven there years ago.

“So I made up my own rule! If you’re gonna take forever shaving your legs or…other things…” his eyes cast down your body. The white towel snug against your form, you clutch it tighter around you as his eyes stare through the towel, begging to catch a glimpse of your wet, smooth skin. Water droplets taunting him as they fall down the slick of your hair. He shakes his head to clear his gutter mind. “I’m going to take matters into my own hands, and believe me princess, it was a handful.”

That’s about as dialed back as Eddie could be.

“You can’t just piss in the front yard! This neighborhood is not like the trailer park, that asshole you called a perv—“

“He was! He was looking right at my dick!”

“— once called the cops on Nancy because she parked by his curb when we were having her bridal shower.”

“Wa-wait, Nancy fucking Wheeler got the cops called on her?”

“Yeah, Hop wasn’t too happy to find out what it was for, calling Derry a waste of space.”

Eddie laughs, “Oh I’m not surprised— him and I go way back, remember?”

Of course you did, he busted Eddie too many times driving higher than the Empire State Building while bringing you, Dustin, Will and Mike back to the Wheeler’s. It was almost a running joke between him and Hopper. Eddie would slip him a joint while in the back of his patrol vehicle and away he went, no ticket, no charge, nothing.

“Anyway,” you jeer, pointing a finger into his bare chest, the tip of your nail making a half moon indent into the head of the bloody demon inked on his left pec, “he’s a fucking asshole so don’t piss him off, he’ll make our lives hell.”

“Fine,” Eddie groans, running his hands down his face “but he was gawking!”

You roll your eyes and grab your hair dryer from your room. An adjustment you’ve had to do since Eddie moved in, getting ready partly in your room and in the bathroom. After your hair is dried and styled, you opt for a pair of light wash overall shorts, and a thick strapped, high neck tank top underneath. You finish your makeup by applying a coat of Revlon’s Toast of New York on your lips. Sliding on your knock off Doc Marten sandals, you grab your purse and head for the door.

Eddie’s sitting at the kitchen table, chair pulled out as he laces up his black work boots, body bent over his knee as he jerks his hand side to side, lazily working the laces through the hook eyelets.

“Still getting groceries tomorrow?” He asks, shoving his white cotton covered foot into his other boot, repeating the process. “I added some essentials to the grocery list.” He gestures to the pad and paper with a tilt of his chin.

Scanning the list you laugh, “Dunkaroos are not essential.”

“Don’t you dare cross them off!” Eddie fake shouts, a grin stretching across his lips, showing off his straight teeth.

“I’m off tomorrow and don’t have many clients today— I know it’s your night to cook, but I was thinking of making tater tot casserole for supper, I’ll just have to stop and get some ground beef from Bradley’s before I come home.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie lamented, “I have a gig tonight instead of tomorrow at the Hideout,” he says standing, running his hands down his legs to shake down his coveralls. “It’s probably going to be late, so don’t worry about making anything.”

Ripping the grocery list from the pad and stuffing it into your purse, you think back to how long it has been since you’d seen them play. You went along to support Chrissy and since Eddie was Kev’s longtime best friend and basically your chauffeur, you at least owed it to him to go with. A memory of you head banging and holding Chrissy’s hand tight as you both screamed for Corroded Coffin clouded your mind.

Threading your purse straps through your fingers and casting your eyes downward you have to know, “… you guys still play Lady Evil?”

Eddie grins again, “wouldn’t be a Corroded Coffin gig if we didn’t play some Sabbath, Jeff would probably throw a hissy fit.”

Friday evenings were usually busy in the shop. Boom ran a tight ship and paid better than any auto shop in a thirty mile radius. Eddie was lucky to get hired on using his street smarts and the fact that he was the unpaid mechanic of the trailer park for every banged up old sedan that his neighbors had since he was sixteen.

The old radio crackled and fussed as Hank Williams Jr sang about the survival rate of country boys. Boom whistled along with the tune. Running his tanned fingers through his blonde hair, a Mr. Pibb and a ham sandwich in front of him.

“So Eddie,” he says leaning back in his plastic chair, “I heard from the boys that you moved into a house on Cherry Lane. Damn boy, I thought that trailer park ran deep in your blood.”

Eddie throws his empty Mt. Dew can into the trash, missing by a mile. “Ahh Boom, you know I’m the prince of the park. Just stretching my city legs, helping out a friend.”

“Didn’t know you and Eyeball’s sister were close.” Aaron sneered, lighting up a cigarette with a strike of a match against his boot.

Eddie’s light hearted demeanor immediately changed, smile fading and eyebrows pulling together, “what the hell does that mean?”

“Helping out a friend?” Sean spat, his wiry mustache shriveled into a snarl, “what are you Mother Teresa? The only help that bitch needs is a fucking lobotomy.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects, pointing a greased finger into Sean’s face, “don’t fucking talk about her like that, man.”

Aaron talks around his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table, “It’s true, she’s smokin’ fuckin’ hot but crazier than a shit house rat.”

The pair laugh, choking on smoke and bits of crusty bread.

“Remember what Chad said about her?” Aaron laughed..

“Fuck yeah how did he put that? Don’t marry the girls with the daddy issues, even if they let you put it in their a—”

Eddie slams his fists into Sean’s shirt, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall, “another word, about her— and I’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

“You threatenin’ me Munson?” Sean chokes out.

Eddies eyes are crazed as he glares in Sean’s, “never a threat, pencil dick, it’s a promise.”

“Fellas,” Boom hollers, shoving his chair back with an eerie scratch, metal legs scraping on broken tile, “I’ll send ya both home for the day with no pay if y’all don’t knock it the fuck off.”

Eddie shoves Sean into the wall hard once more, releasing his grip on his shirt and adjusting his rings. He cracks his knuckles as he stomps back through the bay doors and out to the Buick he had been working on.

Ducking under the hood his breathing is erratic and his fists are shaking.

He never asked what happened with you and Chad but by the sounds of it, it sure as hell didn’t end on good terms.

It was fine if he teased you, but hearing it from anyone else wasn’t gonna fly with him. Not today, not ever. But something about the way you opened up to him, showed him your vulnerable side, it made him almost protective of you, like he needed to shield you from the ugliest parts of the world.

He never would have thought that Eyeball’s little sister, tough little Tooty, the same girl who punched Billy Hargrove in the face after pinching her ass one night, would make him care so much.

“Told ya he’s cool,” Steve slurs over his Bloody Mary, clinking the ice in the glass as he tips it back into his mouth, “he’s like a wild animal, but once you get to know him— he’s just a tattooed teddy bear.”

You, Robin and Steve were out for dinner and drinks at Louie’s, the newer sports bar in Hawkins, sitting under an emerald and white striped umbrella in the hot humid summer air. A monthly ritual you started ages ago when you all worked at Family Video. Only back then you went to Benny’s to get burgers and concrete thick milkshakes, racing to see who could finish first which ultimately ended in Robin getting a stomach ache, every time.

“I could have killed him the first few days,” you say, sipping your Malibu and Diet Coke through two neon straws, “honestly, still debating it.”

Robin steals the pickle spear and celery stick from Steve’s drink, munching away and talking with a mouthful, Steve simply rolls his eyes and reaches for another mozzarella stick, “wait, I thought you guys were getting along better now.”

“They are!” Steve interjects, pointing the mozzarella stick around like he was directing an orchestra, “I asked him myself when I brought my car to Boom’s yesterday for an oil change.”

The thought of your friends asking your roommate, who just so happens to also be their friend, how things were going between you both, made your stomach lurch.

“Well,” Robin began, twirling her pina colada and biting into the yellow flesh of the pineapple , “I’m just glad you aren’t by yourself anymore. It freaked me out knowing you were there alone.”

She wasn’t the only one.

Before Eddie had moved in, Steve gave you his prized nail bat to keep by your bed. So far you haven’t had to use it. And with Eddie in the house, it was stored in your closet.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” you say, taking a long drink, feeling the warmth of the coconut flavored alcohol mix with the Diet Coke bubbles, a frenzy on your tongue, “he’s come a long way,” you admit, dunking a fry into the mayo ketchup concoction, “finally house broke.”

It was the truth, you really didn’t mind him being around.

“Shh, gotta be quiet girls, daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, but seriously, you need to shut up.”

The girls laugh, drunk off bottom shelf liquor and Jell-O shots from the Hideout. Three pairs of tangled legs stumble through the front door as Eddie hurriedly works his keys into the lock.

The two of them giggle and hush one another, planting kisses on either side of his neck and stepping out of their shoes. His leather jacket hits the floor, the shirt he was wearing was ripped to shreds from the collar down. Carol’s fingers feverishly tore at his clothing before the three of them even made it to the van.

Foregoing the zipper on the tight leather mini dress she’s wearing, Eddie shoves it down her hips, giving her ass a firm squeeze, toying with the fishnet tights, “these stay on,” he demands, slapping her ass and unzipping his jeans, a parade of cheap lingerie, and leather studded clothing start from the front door and end in Eddie’s bedroom.

Your car wasn’t home which was odd but maybe it was parked in the garage. He wasn't sure where you were but if you were sleeping he didn’t want to wake you up. You had never discussed any boundaries about him bringing someone home, but what kind of rockstar would he be if he turned down hot twins?

They had approached him after the show, twisting their evil tongues into his mouth and groping him as soon as he got backstage.

Jeff was in the back room with his long time girlfriend Ash, they were holding each other tight as he kissed her neck and she squealed into his ear.

The girl who showed up to every gig, Marissa, wearing her signature “here for the drummer” shirt, was currently bent over the bathroom sink, Gareth buried deep inside her.

Even Big D was getting some action, the waitress from Benny’s, Emily, was currently bobbing along on his dick.

All of them were getting lucky, a win for Corroded Coffin. The girls were screaming for them, bras and panties tossed on stage, Gareth sporting multiple pairs around his neck. The old bar flies drunk off beer on tap were singing along to the requested songs.

Cece’s pink floral dress is brought over her head as Eddie sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing and biting as Carol kneels at his feet and works her palm into his boxers, gasping at the hardened length in her grip.

A monster lies beneath the cotton. Almost as thick as her forearm, her dainty fingers unable to reach fully around his girth. She pumps him slow, releasing his throbbing cock.

His fingers twist into their hair as he shoves Cece down to her knees, joining Carol in the worship of Eddie Munson’s dick. Their greedy mouths take him in, one popping his balls into her mouth the other choking on his fat cock.

Eddie wasn’t gentle when he fucked groupies. He took what he wanted and didn’t leave any room for complaints or questions. Shut off from the gentle loving side sex can bring and only seeing red, it was like he was a mad man. A different person entirely. Truly the horns of satan poked through his forehead and his eyes clouded over revealing a black veil of sin.

Demon eyed.

He was pissed from what happened earlier at work. Fucking insane with rage at Sean and Aaron talking shit about you.

Not you, not Tooty.

His frustration builds as the sound of lungs gasping for air fills his ears.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, “Jesus Christ— don’t you wanna be good for daddy? Open that fuckin’ throat up and take what I give to you.”

He grabs Cece’s hair and thrusts himself in her mouth, ignoring her tears as she gags and swallows him whole. “Are you crying? Poor fucking baby, what a shame, on the bed now.” He grabs her up by the throat and tosses her onto the bed.

He’d kill Chad if he ever saw him again. Still had no idea what he did or why you two broke up but hearing his mantra spill from those asshat’s mouths today was enough to make his skin crawl.

The vulgar shit they were saying. The way they non chalantly said it like they were reciting their McDonald’s order. Fuck that bothered him.

Cock swinging, Eddie pinches Carol’s nipples until she’s standing, he flips her upside down, fucking into her open mouth as he bites her fishnet tights open and spits on her pussy. Tossing her on the bed like discarded trash he slaps both of their asses.

He tries to blur you away from his mind, separate you from his brain for a while to release this pent up anger. But all he can see are the small tears falling from your eyes when you tell him the truth about your family.

The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day.

Shaking his head he bounds to his bed, trying like hell to focus on his task at hand.

“Are my little whores ready? Think you can handle this without tearing up?”

When Steve drops you off you’ve already puked in his car, twice. When he announced that drinks were on him tonight, you may have been double fisting Jack and Cokes with Robin, and taking vodka shots, racing to see who could finish first.

Robin passed out in the back of his car, snuggled up with the cold leather on her cheek.

“Steeb, I’m fine, seriously! Look how good I’m walking.”

“That’s because I’m carrying you.” Steve huffs as he opens the front door.

You’re slurring your words and talking in a volume that could raise the dead, “You’re such a good friend Stephen, why? Why why why are you single?” You hiccup, the remnants of your vomit lingering on your breath, “You need a wife!”

“Tooty, we can talk about my failed love life another day,” Steve grunts, carrying you into the house, stepping over boots and skimpy clothing, “for now let’s get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up and maybe puke in the toilet this time!”

“I just wanna go to bed. I’m tired,” you whine, “Stoven bring me to my room, let me go to sleep!”

Ignoring you, Steve brings you to the bathroom and plops you down on the floor, opening the toilet lids just in time for you to blow chunks all over.

“Ooh that one looks like a mozzarella stick.”

“Jesus, I’m never letting you two idiots drink again! I’m always your goddamn babysitter, it’s so annoying.” Steve laughs, riddling your hair. Ever since you stepped foot into Family Video at fifteen, looking for a job, the three of you were inseparable. “You think you’re gonna be okay? I gotta get that other shit head home before she pukes in the backseat, I already have to clean the front.”

“Oh no! I didn’t know you threw up!”

Steve rolls his eyes, dragging his hands down his face.

“See you tomorrow, I’ll call you okay?” His face is pulled into concern, eyebrows raised and pinched together

You salute him and wave, laughing at his mop of hair flopping around as he turns to leave. Struggling for at least ten minutes to get your denim overall shorts unbuckled, cursing and giggling at your own drunken stupor. You finally manage to get them un done shucking them off your legs, leaving your upper body covered by your tank top, the black panties you were wearing still on. Sliding your arms around your back you manage to unhook your bra and thread it through your shirt, tossing it into the shower beside you. Exhausted, you rest your head on the toilet bowl— falling into a dizzy sleep.

“Cece, come here!” Carol whispers loudly. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, mouth agape at the sight of the slumped over figure hugging the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit!” She says, emerging from Eddie’s bedroom. “Is that? No fucking way.”

“I didn’t know he was screwing her too!” Carol breathes jealousy spewing from her lips.

“You really think he’d want to fuck that? Look at her! She’s a walking basket case. I heard that her family moved away because she wigged out and tried to kill her own mom.”

“Actually, the rumor is that I killed them all,” you add, raising your sleepy drunk face from the toilet, seeing double and trying not to puke on the spot, you try to stand, using the toilet to support your weight as you push off from it, wobbling horrifically.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, vision dancing as you try to point to the front door, holding onto the sink to stabilize yourself wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, “now.”

“Yeah?” Cece spits, folding her arms across her chest, “you gonna make us? Last I checked we were guests—“

“Not anymore,” Eddie hissed, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants as he looks into the bathroom at your disheveled appearance. Your makeup is smeared from throwing up, you’re half naked and barefoot, clutching onto the sink. Your overalls are covered in puke, and in a heap of vomit on the floor, a purple bra hangs over the edge of the tub. He wedges himself into the bathroom between you and the two girls, covering you with his tall frame from their view. His nostrils are flared and his chest is puffed out, “you heard her, get the fuck out.”

“What the fuck Eddie?!” Carol gripes, looking into his mad eyes.

He glares back, bored with her, “Did you really think you were gonna stay the night?” He prods, “Please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. Get your shit and go.”

“We live across town!” Cece squeaks, face pulled into shock and humiliation.

“Don’t care.”

Carol crosses her arms and glares into his eyes, “It’s late!”

“And?” He asks glaring back, and pushing through them, “Here let me help.”

Eddie takes their purses and shoes, tossing them out the front door into the yard. Pointing to the open door and fuming, he spits, “Out.”

The girls leave screeching ‘fuck you’s’ as they walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the night.

He turns back to the bathroom, hearing you vomit again, one small glance and he can tell you hit the sink at least, puke splattering all over— the same reaction if you held a spoon under running water.

He turns around and comes back with the cleaner and a roll of paper towels, gagging with each wipe of the sink as he cleans it up.

Your crumbled body is slumped over the toilet again.

“Gonna live? Or should I call the coroner.” He says leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a look of worry on his face.

“ ‘s Robin’s fault,” you mumble, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, “woulda been fine if it wasn’t for the sh—,” you gag thinking of the vodka, “—shots, I’m usually not like this.”

Eddie sits on the side of the tub. You’re wasted and half dressed. He was a lot of things but taking advantage of a drunk girl wasn’t him. He finds your robe hanging in its designated spot, and drapes it across your bare shoulders.

“Sit up a bit,” he instructs. With great effort you sit up, almost falling backwards but Eddie catches you, careful of his hand placements not wanting to graze you in your inebriated state. He helps you sit and you put your arms through the holes of the robe. He reaches gently around your middle to tie it. Putting delicate pressure on your back as he leans you forward towards the toilet. You hum with satisfaction as your face feels the cool plastic of the toilet seat. Fighting the urge to rub your back.

“I’m dying, you can have the house when I’m gone, scatter my ashes in the rose bushes out back.” You say with a whine. Groaning as your stomach churns again, puking up more and more of the mixed alcohol you drank earlier in the night.

“Need some water?” Eddie guesses.

You nod your head, feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds you set it back down.

He leaves and comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water, swirly straw included. Tapping your shoulder he hands you the Disney cup, taking a long pull from the straw, you set the cup down on the linoleum floor.

“Thanks.”

“Agh, you’ll be alright. The porcelain Gods and I are great friends— well we used to be back in high school. I haven’t prayed to them in a while,” he says with a chuckle. Sliding down against the wall behind you, sitting on the cold floor.

“Don’t forget the time you and Kev ate those shrooms and puked all night in the basement of our house.” You mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and flushing the toilet.

That was a night Eddie would never forget, he was only sixteen, and he somehow scored some homemade brownies and shrooms from one of the seniors. Being young and dumb, him and Eyeball each ate three brownies and an entire bag of shrooms. The high was insane, but the aftermath was death. He hasn’t touched shrooms since.

“Shit,” Eddie exclaims, “how old were you? Ten?”

“ ‘leven,” you say, holding your elbows on the toilet seat and your head in your palms, “old enough to know you and Kev didn’t magically get the flu at the same time.”

“Man we were dumb,” he says with a laugh, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“Were?” you say slyly.

“Easy, I’m not the one who can’t hold their liquor, Princess.”

“Oh Jesus please no more mention of it or I will barf—again.”

He stands to leave, laughing and stretching his arms out over his head as a small yawn escapes him. Exhausted from the day's events: work, concert, threesome— ain’t no way he’d be up before noon tomorrow— you either.

“Think I’m gonna go to bed, you going to be okay?”

Sitting up and looking at Eddie for the first time tonight, you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re drunk, but it’s almost as if it’s the very first time you’ve seen him. His amber colored eyes are surrounded by a forest of black eyelashes, his mop of curly hair hanging in them slightly, smooth pink lips, surprisingly full, a sharp jaw with a days worth of stubble, his veiny neck dances as he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His shoulders are thick snaking down to muscled forearms, veins protruding from them, his hands are easily double the size of yours, thick fingers adorned with the same chunky stupid rings he’s worn forever. His broad chest stretches across his ribs, nipples pierced since the 80’s. He stands with confidence. His slender waist with the tiniest patch of hair ducking into the gray waistband of his hanes boxer briefs. And the prettiest alabaster skin peeking out from his collection of black tattoos.

Mouth suddenly dry, you stutter, “I—I’m done throwing up, gonna go to my bed.”

You stand on Bambi’s legs, hitting the wall hard with your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie laughs and scoops you up making sure he’s holding under your bent knees and around your upper arms. He carries you to your bed, his skin burning hot against your cheek. He lays you down, throwing the blankets over your head for good measure, trying like hell to ignore the flutter in his stomach as you huff and pout pulling your eyebrows inward and frowning as you place your blankets to your liking.

“Get some sleep Tooty.” Eddie says all too softly. Pushing your cute sleepy face from his mind, rocking back on his heels as he starts to leave your room.

“Eddie?” You call after him, your small voice ripping through him like a knife. “Thank you, seriously. For everything.”

Shaking his head back and forth, his wild hair flows like a curtain around him in the dark as he leaves your room, “you owe me,” he says with a small grin, shutting the door behind him.

////

SEE YOU IN VOLUME: V

[volume: 5]

putting random symbols in hopes that read more will eat this instead of the last paragraph 😩

#eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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essentiallyleaf · 9 months

Text

day 05. thigh riding. with. sullyoon.

1689 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, subby girlfriend sullyoon, photographer reader who gets dommy at some point, the reader is kind of a dunce in this one, i’m sorry reader, the writer is kind of stupid, and a bully, a decent amount of floof methinks, thigh riding, a note of ass play, and a note of feeding/oral fixation maybe?, squirting, freestyle punctuation, basically unedited.

notes.

i don’t know, it’s all up in the air, really. ignorantly, leaf.

“That’s not fair, you promised we were gonna play today!” Yoona whines while stomping her feet on the parquet.

“I said we were going to play today, after I’m done with work” You correct her, matter-of-factly.

You know how much she cares. This is the first time you’re not traveling when she has a weekend off in months. She just wanted to spend it together. Maybe bake with you, and end up throwing flour and chocolate powder on each other, maybe make blue and sand colored beads, have them break and crawl on the floor attempting to fetch them for the next twenty-five minutes, and definitely have extra-long sessions of lazy sex, through meals, through bathtime, through her playing Zelda, then passing you the Switch, then through you playing Zelda. That’s what she was looking forward to doing today. To you, the fact that you can’t spend a lovely and horny weekend with your girlfriend because a client decided, the day before the deadline, that they needed the photos to “look younger, fresher!” and that the best way of accomplishing that was adding a comic book filter on them and changing all the fonts to resemble those “BOOM!”’s and “POW!”’s that your grandfather used to read while HE WAS FIGHTING THE GREAT WAR, mr. Russo! Because “that’s what kids are into these days! Superheroes!”??? And your grandfather is DEAD.

To you - as I was saying - that felt unfair. But to Yoona, whose pouting face looks sooo cute, the expectation of a weekend of fun with her boyfriend was a fair one. And as you recognize that, you realize that with your dismissive answer you were being kind of an ass.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” You pat her shoulders and back, then stroke it softly as she looks down at her feet. They’re naked, just like the rest of her legs, she dropped her pants as soon as she got in your apartment, as per her habit. It started with her wearing oversized shirts (usually yours) with no shorts underneath for comfort reasons, then the tees quickly got shorter and shorter and now she’s just wearing a white cropped top and a pair of light pink panties with a tiny tiny bow in the center, leaving her entire stomach and a good half of her buttcheeks for all, or rather just for you to see. “You wanna take some selfies on the Polaroid while I finish?”

You have plenty of cameras, but that’s the one you bought for her. It’s so hip, and trendy, she said. You told her she could bring it wherever, and take pictures of the places she visits (last year she went to Japan with two of her girl friends, it was beautiful, she said, but she didn’t take many pictures; you didn’t go because you were on one of your work trips in Malaysia, and you took way too many) but Yoona wanted to leave it in your house, for “I only care about photos where I’m with you”.

“I already have…”

You are certain she made sure you were somewhere in the background of the shot, as she always does when she takes selfies.

She puffs her cheeks while pouting. She’s too adorable not to look at and too bored to sit idle on the couch for another God-knows-how-many hours. Two problems to solve.

“You wanna come sit on my lap while I work?” Sounds like a win-win.

She nods cutely. You sit at the living room table (the lighting is best here) and she follows you. Instead of sitting with her back towards you, or perpendicularly to you, though, she straddles one of your shorts-covered thighs, facing you, the exposed part of her buttcheeks in direct contact with the skin of your knee. You look at her puzzled, and maybe a little suspicious. She just smiles. That’s good enough for you. She just wants to look at you in the face, you think. Add another adorbs point to the count (4? Just about her average per 5 minutes).

As you start working, laptop in front of you, water and a tangerine on the side, she tucks her chin in your shoulder and wraps her arms around you. Then you feel a subtle movement on your thigh. It starts as a small pressure, her body seemingly getting heavier and heavier on you, and then slowly gaining speed on the sagittal axis, getting broader with each swing.

“Baby…”

She doesn’t respond, only moves her hands from your lower back up to your shoulders and widens the radius of her pendulum. You think you know where this is going.

“Yoonagi~”

She stops immediately, seemingly getting out of her trance. That’s the pet name you gave her; must have been a reward for record adorbs points in a day.

“I won’t bother you,” (while I keep doing what I'm doing, is the part of the sentence that’s only silent), she pulls her head back to look you in the eyes, the cutie pout is still there (5). “Please?”

“Try not to move too much” - says the guy who’s letting his girlfriend hump his leg while he’s editing photos on his laptop and definitely doesn’t need his hand to be firm or steady; Alexa play Scooby-Doo villain type plan - she pulls the one leg of your shorts up to your groin, then lifts herself up just enough, and, with the most innocent smile on her face, she drops her pink panties to the floor.

She returns exactly to the position she had moments ago and resumes her routine right from the point where she left it. The only difference is, you can feel your girlfriend rub her skin on yours, with its warmth and its texture, and now your thigh feels humid.

“Feel good?” You take your hands away from the laptop and mouse for a second and sit back to peel your tangerine. She nods, but not cutely this time (6), she’s completely absorbed in her pleasure and is trying her best to keep her eyes open and look at you as she does. That part is cute (6!). “I’m glad, honeybun”

You feed her a slice of tangerine, which she captures with her lips and stores into her cheek, then suckles on for a few seconds before chewing it. Adorbs (7). You go back to work.

As her lust builds up, and once her mouth is empty, she can’t help but let you know through a loud moan. And then about two or three more, you can’t count them exactly because they kinda connect and fuse together, but she sounds so heavenly and you’re - you’re supposed to be working. But at this point, who knows what you want more. To get your work done, and have the rest of the day for yourselves, or to help your little girl. To get her where she wants, and to make it feel as good as it can be. To make it feel earned.

“Hey! I need to concentrate though, so I’m gonna need you to be silent, honey, can you do that for me? I’ll touch you in the other hole while we play later, but now,” you place a finger on her lips. “Daddy needs Yoonagi to behave, is that alright?” (That’s the pet name she gave you; must have been because every adorbs baby needs a baby daddy.)

One time the two of you were having sex, you were half-sitting, she was on top. At some point you grabbed her plentiful, soft asscheeks to help her bounce on you. As you gripped them strongly, one of your fingers slipped on her puckered hole and without even thinking, you started teasing around it while her butt ricocheted on your lap. She came so hard that day. So hard that she started spasming and tearing up as you held her on your shoulder (“Did I hurt you?” You hadn’t. “Can you stand up?” She could, after a few minutes. “You wanna do it again?” She did).

It was then that you started sprinkling it here and there as a promise, as a reward. Not to control her, just to help her learn how to behave. And she’s had nothing but gains out of it.

Yoona keeps rocking back and forth on your thigh, only silent pants coming out of her mouth. She even locks her lips to avoid any spills, while her eyes are now permanently closed, focused on the target of reaching her now close at hand peak. You palm your girlfriend’s gorgeous tummy while adoring her lustful state. She puts a hand on top of yours and starts feeling you feeling her. Your thigh is shining with her wetness.

“I know it’s hard, but you gotta hang in there for just a couple minutes, understand? My baby girl is doing so great for me”

Still trying her best not to make noise, even when it’s obvious that it’s not to help you with the work that’s currently not even remotely passing your brain, Yoona takes both of your hands and puts them on her hips, her message wordless, but crystal clear. You swiftly drag her wide, huggable, baby-making hips forth and back, as the two of you unite in an unfittingly innocent, tongue-less kiss. A few pushes and a few pulls at this rabid rhythm and your girlfriend bursts in orgasmic pleasure, releasing a whole downpour that wets from your thighs and calves up to your crotch, her pelvis shaking violently and uncontrollably. Even through all this, she manages to keep her lips shut and not emit a sound.

“Good, good, such a good girl, my pretty baby made Daddy so, so, so proud,” you praise her as you hug her soft, meaty body and pat her head.

“Thank you… Thank you…” she pants out, tired. It takes her more than a couple minutes wrapped around you to regain her senses. And when she does, you think you hear her say in a satisfied tone:

“Haha, I won!”

“What?”

“I won. I played with Daddy. Even though you said no. And I won.”

footnotes.

eh. numbly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #male reader #male reader insert #male reader smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #nmixx #sullyoon #nmixx smut #sullyoon smut #nmixx sullyoon smut

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 month

Text

sick days

foreword: first proper fic for dad!Steve series!! thanks for requesting, anon. happy mother’s day to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t (cheers)- I hope this fic is a comfort. hair texture and skin color of the kids in this series will not be described- any physical descriptors will be of their likeness to Steve. if you want to read the origin story/meet-cute of this version of Steve + reader, you can read that here!

{for every ear a flower: series masterlist}

cw: mom!reader, R wears Steve’s shirt, the whole fam is sick in this one (no emetophobia warning tho!), fluff and parental caretaking

wc: 1.6k

___

There’s a soft noise around the corner, and Steve dog-ears his novel to scoot forward on the couch, voice soft and inviting. “Hey, buttercup. That you?”

His eldest daughter, JJ, peeks out from the entryway of the living room. “Me.”

“It’s you,” Steve confirms with a hum, setting his book on the coffee table to open his arms. “C’mere, babe. Your stomach hurting again?”

JJ gravitates towards her dad’s lap like a magnet, dragging her yellow flower-print baby blanket behind her. She’s already three and a half, but Steve hopes she never grows out of it- or the tiny socks with ruffles, warm in his big hand as he holds both her feet in a comforting squeeze.

“Head hurts,” JJ says, in a heartbreaking whine, settling her weight against the contours of Steve’s chest.

He sighs in sympathy, rocking his first baby in his arms like he did when she was even smaller. “Your head hurts? That’s no good.”

JJ makes a noise of agreement and burrows into Steve’s neck, cheek warm where skin meets skin. Steve slides a hand up her back, over her pink cotton nightie, to feel for lingering fever- her forehead is warm but not overly so.

In silent thanks to the wonders of Baby Tylenol, Steve kisses the crown of JJ’s head and pats the side of her leg. “Tell you what- it’s past bedtime but you’re not feeling so good. Wanna watch a movie out here with me ‘til you fall asleep?”

Normally this news would be cause for a screech of delight and some couch jumping, but on the tail end of a long week of sickness, Steve’s little girl just plucks absently at his shirt collar. “Mommy too?”

“Mommy’s putting your sister down for bed,” Steve says, and then (because he always tries to be mindful of where blame could land, knowing full well that disappointment can breed sibling rivalries, and he doesn’t think he could stand seeing that sisterly bond turn contentious)- “But I’ll go see if she needs some help, and then maybe we can all be cozy on the couch. Sounds good?”

JJ hums in response, sounding faded and fatigued, and Steve moves carefully to keep the jostling to a minimum as he stands to re-situate his kiddo on the couch. After tucking the blanket in yellow swaths around her body, Steve turns to the nearby VHS stack above the TV.

“You want Ariel?” he asks, already reaching to free The Little Mermaid from its plastic confines.

“Yeah. But no Urz-la,” comes the reply from the couch.

Steve kneels to load the tape into the deck, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose where they’d slipped. “I promise I’ll be back in time to fast forward.”

The VCR whirs, opening credits coming to life on the screen with a colorful overture to match. After lowering the volume, Steve backtracks to the couch again, dipping to place a kiss against the dimples in JJ’s hand where it curls around a fistful of fabric.

“Be back in a few, buttercup.”

The cheery music fades as Steve moves down the hall; the first door on the right is partially open, and he leans a shoulder against the frame, quietly observing, not wanting to interrupt your rhythm.

In a pair of comfy sweatpants and Steve’s old Hawkins High tee, your form moves smoothly around the darkened room, tracking a short loop from the crib to the changing table on the opposing wall. You’re walking with a gentle bounce, swaying the baby in your arms with each step, a constant murmur of nonsensical soothing as you rock your youngest to sleep.

“That’s it. You’re a sweet girl. Just close your eyes, ‘kay? Shh shh shh. Sleepy time.”

Steve can hear the exhaustion in your voice, even low as it is, and feels a twist of guilt- the college where the two of you work only allows librarian staff one day of sick leave per month, which Steve considers a crime (JJ gets sick at least that often from whatever germs her preschool provides).

Thankfully, his professor leave is slightly better, a generous three days a month, which he’s unintentionally blown in a week with this last bout of mystery sickness that’s been passed through his little family.

You, on the other hand, were only afforded a three-day weekend, and not a very restful one at that: on top of trying to recover from sickness yourself, a fevered baby Birdie has been overly fussy while JJ has been desperately clingy to both you and Steve.

It’s been a long weekend of rotating in and out of three bedrooms, disrupted sleep schedules, and speedy trips to the local pharmacy; a blur of constant motion as Steve and you have tried your best to stay afloat and tend to your sick kids.

Steve’s grateful the worst of it is over, now that everyone’s fevers have broken, and he’s glad you’ve still got a whole Sunday to recover. But by the looks of it- hovering uncertain over the bars of Birdie’s crib, unwilling to lay her sleeping form down- you’re not giving in to recoup time yet.

Steve moves in behind you, quiet still but shuffling his bare feet against the carpet a bit to let you know he’s there. “Hey,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, hands coming to rest at your hips, joining the rocking motion you’re keeping up for the sake of the baby. “How’s my girl?”

“Better, I think.” The arm that isn’t holding the weight of your six-month-old comes to rest against the fat of her cheek, Birdie’s closed eyelids fluttering while you feel for fever, just as Steve had earlier. “Hopefully she’ll sleep through the night, with this medicine.”

“Mhm. She’s a lot better, babe- I meant you.” Steve molds himself to the contours of your back, swaying to the tempo you keep, nosing up the line of your neck to place a kiss behind your ear. “Can’t pour from an empty chalice. Or whatever that saying is.”

There’s a soft stutter at your ribs as you exhale a laugh, hand still on the face of your sleeping baby. “Think Eddie’s wearing off on you.”

“God forbid.” His arms wrap around your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, smiling when he feels you lean some of your weight against him. “You can put her down, honey. She’s gonna be okay. Come watch Ariel with me ‘n buttercup. I’ll even skip past the scary parts for ya.”

“Well, in that case,” you whisper back, a tinge of amusement in your sleep-scratchy voice that hits Steve in his soft spot of love for you. With reluctance and practiced ease, you slip forward from his arms to lay Birdie in her crib, pausing to make sure she’ll settle without your warmth and movements.

She stays asleep, and you stay watching her, corner night light illuminating the steady rise and fall of her footy-pajama’d body with each breath until Steve takes your hand, gently coaxing- “She’s golden, honey. You did great. I’ve got the monitor by the couch, so we’ll hear if she’s up, okay?”

Your gaze stays on Birdie even as Steve leads you backwards towards the door, even leaning to catch one last glimpse before he pulls the door to a near-close. In the light of the hallway, you blink, looking more worn out than Steve’s ever seen you.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing across the knuckles, tortoiseshell-framed eyes on your half-lidded ones. “Ariel?”

This seems to resonate in the fog of your mind; with a nod, you squeeze his hand. “Ariel.”

On the living room TV, Ariel and Flounder are exploring a shipwreck, and JJ’s watching from her snuggled spot with glazed eyes until she sees you in the doorway. “Mommy,” she says, with feeling, trying to prop herself up but getting tangled in the process.

“Hi, baby,” you greet with equal verve, kneeling to give your eldest baby some untangling and a kiss. “Can I watch Ariel with you?”

In response, JJ musters all her three-and-a-half-year-old strength to pull you on to the couch cushion, and Steve chuckles in tandem with you as you go easily, shushing gently- “Okay, JJ. Don’t strain yourself, angel, just rest.”

There’s nothing like your touch. Steve knows it, and so do both his kids- under the circular pattern you trace against JJ’s face pressed into your leg, her lashes flutter, lulled to calm again by the caress of your fingertips.

After Steve makes sure that the baby monitor on the windowsill is crackling with life, he eases into the spot beside you, draping his arm around your shoulders- you nestle into his side out of habit. JJ’s nearly asleep, but your hand doesn’t waver, generous and tender even though sleep pulls at the edges of all your movements.

A shark snaps at tailfins across the screen, volume low enough to not shake JJ from the sleep she’s fallen into. Steve kisses that same spot behind your ear, then whispers, “Perfectly good shoulder right here. Wish you’d use it.”

He’s rewarded with a dreamy smile as you give in, head dropping to rest in the hollow of his waiting shoulder. Your hand stops its tracing, instead landing to rest securely over your daughter’s arm.

Soon, Steve is eased to sleep by the quiet breaths filling the living room, head tilted back against the couch, glasses tilted to one side. He’ll have a killer neck crick in the morning, but it’ll be worth it.

And luckily for him, you’ve got the most healing hands in the world.

#for every ear a flower #dad!steve #dad!steve harrington #oc!kid #oc!kids #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington #st fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you

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reiderwriter · 10 months

Text

♣️ To Warm a Lonely Night ♣️

Chapter 6 of That's What You Get

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Prev. Chapter || Next Chapter

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: With a few days of leave ahead of you, you wake up in Spencer's apartment with absolutely no plans to leave. All in the pursuit of regaining your memory, of course.

Warnings: none, but there is one sexually explicit-ish sentence at the end (which may or may not be a spoiler for the next chapter, who knows 👀).

A/N: Ahh! I can't believe we're halfway through! This one is mainly fluff, and I hope you love it because it's building to something more next Chapter tee hee. It's a bit later of an upload today because I've been so busy at work, so please forgive me lol 🙏 And please, please, PLEASE let me know in the comments/reblogs/through an ask what you think about it! It'd would make my week 🩷

True to his word, Spencer provided you with a toothbrush, toothpaste, wet tissues to remove your make-up with, a generous amount of pajama options, and a warm bed. You had shyly accepted everything and readied yourself for bed in a matter of minutes, half of you cursing your stupidity at landing in this situation and the other half of you jumping for joy at being back in the same bed as him.

He was right about there being a possibility that the two of you jumping into bed together - again - could jog some memories for you. The only solid memory you had of your marriage was, after all, waking up the day after. So you’d thrown on the plaid pajama bottoms and oversized sweatshirt that surely must’ve been big on him too, and slunked back into his bedroom.

He was already there of course, folding down the covers to his bed and climbing in, trying to make it seem more comfortable and appealing by removing the stacks of books that were strewn across it.

“Sorry, don’t get much use out of that side of the bed,” he said, noticing your eyes on him at that moment.

“You don’t? After everything you said, I assumed that you had… frequent visitors.” You looked up at his face to gauge his reaction, delighted by the flush of color that greeted you there.

He cleared his throat and turned away, shelving another set of books. “It’s not… I’m not that great at picking up women if you hadn’t already guessed that, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, you managed to get me to marry you in the span of less than three hours, Spencer, so I’d say you’re plenty good at it.”

“That was the alcohol, though.”

“It wasn’t.” You let the thought hang in the air between you, having mumbled it so quietly you weren’t sure if he even heard you. You cleared your throat and tried again.

“I mean, can you imagine if some random guy had tried to pick me up and marry me this weekend? Hotch would’ve had to arrest me. Or worse.” You laughed a little to ease the tension of your sudden almost-confession. What the hell were you thinking, blurting out something like that?

“Thank god you got me, then, right?” Spencer smiled back at you, sitting up on the edge of the bed facing you.

“Yeah. Thank god.” You moved towards him then, awkwardly asking which side you should sleep on, and he quickly moved over for you, letting you climb up into the bed as he returned to the door to shut it and turn the lights off.

You listened to his footsteps as he returned to the bed, pulling the covers up and over himself, trying not to confuse his movements with your heavy heartbeat. He didn’t reach out to you, and so you didn’t reach out to him, the two of you awkwardly facing each other in bed, not touching in even the smallest of places.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

–X–

You hoped that you would wake up tangled up in him, that his arms would be wrapped around you, his legs buried deep between your own. You hoped that his breath would be warm on your neck, that he would take the plunge and give you a good morning kiss, and that he would pull you closer into him, suggesting that the two of you not move for another hour at least.

Instead, you woke alone, the bedsheets still warm as you heard the sounds of running water soundtrack your morning. Spencer was gone, and he hadn’t bothered to wake you.

Of course, this was his apartment, and you knew exactly where it was since your brain had finally kicked into gear two minutes into consciousness, but the overwhelming disappointment had you almost frustrated to tears.

So much for trying to jog the memories of your wedding.

You cautiously climbed out of bed after hearing the shower switch off, following the dying trail of steam to the bathroom just as he emerged from within.

“Y/N. You’re awake, good morning.” He greeted you, almost too naturally for a man wrapped in nothing but a white towel. You stared at him a minute too long, your gaze raking down his body, doing everything it could to deny your brain's pleas to pleases look back at his fucking face, for god’s sake.

“Sorry, forgot to bring clothes, not used to this sharing a space thing,” he said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot a little, before giving you one of those tight-lipped smiles you loved seeing.

“Shit, um, sorry, I’ll just head back to the bedroom.” You start walking in that direction, then automatically change my mind. “No, you need to get clothes, I’ll stand here.” You nodded at that last decision, sticking by it and boring a hole into the floor with your rapid attention to it,

He smiled at you again, ruffling your hair as he passed you on his way back to his own room, leaving you alone with your already sinful thoughts, to gently rest yourself against the wall and convince yourself that you could persist through this temptation.

He emerged a few minutes later, and, with some grace and fucking decorum finally, you looked up at his eyes and started talking cohesively.

“Spencer, why didn’t you wake me? We were supposed to see if this could jog a memory for either of us right, that’s the whole reason I stayed over.”

“Sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Spencer, you have an eidetic memory,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you waited for his real answer, blocking the doorway to the rest of his apartment with a stern look.

“Okay, I give up. You just looked too… Too happy. Resting there tucked into my arm. I didn’t want to wake you up, because I’ve seen how you get on cases after you’ve had only a couple hours of sleep and I don’t want to be on the other end of that.”

You laughed at him then, not knowing whether his words were truthful or not, and trying your best not to profile him.

“Would you mind if…Spencer, would you mind if I stayed a little longer?” You grabbed his hand and held it as you said the words, trying not to use the way his body stiffened to inform any decisions you were about to make.

“What for?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“We only have seven days, right? And, let’s be honest, most of them are going to be spent on some case or the other. I was hoping we could spend these precious few moments free from work trying to get our memories back.” You smiled up at him hopeful, squeezing his hand just a little.

“I, um… Sure. I have some tickets to a thing this weekend, though, but I can cancel.” Your heart jumped into your stomach and your face dropped as you did your best to backpedal.

“No, wait, Spencer, if you have plans, that’s okay, I can go home.”

“It was just this stupid book fair thing. It’s okay, I didn’t even have anyone to go with.” You almost laughed at his obliviousness.

“Spencer, it’s not stupid, and now you have someone to go with.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Your wife, now where is it?”

–X–

The book fair had turned out to be an accidentally amazing first date. Which was, you’d realized after driving home to change clothes and freshen up, exactly what it was going to be. A date. Another - accidental - date.

He’d picked you up a half hour later, and together you’d driven the 45 minutes to the fair. It was more of a book jumble sale, a collection of vendors, antique dealers, indie bookshops, and exhibitions coming together to celebrate vintage, used, and second-hand books. Spencer was excited, of course, but you felt like a kid in a candy store, ooh-ing and aah-ing at every special edition, basking in the smell of old books, and desperately seeking out the most obscure titles you could find.

You’d made a game out of it with Spencer, sharing a laugh over titles including “Ducks and How To Make Them Pay,” by W. Cook and “An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting; with Proper Rules for the Exercise of that Pleasant Art,” by Jane Collier. Walking through the aisles of stalls, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, not letting yourself think too hard about it.

You’d probably held his hand at some point on your wedding night, you thought to yourself, so maybe it would help. Your justifications were unwarranted, though, as you knew you weren’t letting him go until you absolutely had to.

“Spencer, look at that!” You gasped excitedly, pulling him over to a stall decorated in an array of plushies, some old and worn, some newer, showcasing children’s books from the last century. He trailed after you with a stumble, your excitement having pulled him a little too quickly, his long limbs not able to move as gracefully as you’d somehow managed to.

“Oh my god, isn’t this adorable?” You asked him, squeezing his hand a little bit as you perused the titles. Titles you remembered from your own childhood were there: Judy Bloom, the Babysitters Club, and some Enid Blyton. You talked his ear off about each childhood memory you had with each of the books when you’d read them, asking if he’d read them, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited about books for some reason,” you apologized to the kind-looking old man running the store, shyly flushing at the run-on conversation you’d been having in front of him.

“It’s fine, my dear, isn’t that why we’re all here? To be excited about books?” He smiled as he looked at you over his glasses, and you pulled Spencer further down the table, noticing that as you went further to the left, the books seemed to get older. You spotted it then, wedged tightly between two piles of other children’s classics, but you pulled it out swiftly, still not dropping Spencer’s hand.

“Spencer look! Anne of Green Gables! I loved this book as a kid, it’s been like 20 years since I last read it.” You beamed up at him, and he smiled down at you as well.

“I’ve read it, too, though only a few years back, I’ll admit. I went through a phase of reading a lot of children’s books after Henry was born to see which would be the best gifts to get him.”

“And did you?”

“Oh, yeah. Got him a whole box set, but I’m not sure if he’s read any of them yet.”

“Perfect, then this one’s for me.” You said quickly, before turning back to the vendor and asking him how much for the book. He gave you the price, a reasonable one for a vintage book. Before you could pull out your money to pay, though, Spencer had dropped your hand and pulled out his own wallet, handing over the money before you could even insist he didn’t have to.

“Spencer! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know. I wanted to.” The look he gave you had your stomach doing somersaults, as you felt the blood race to your face.

“That’s one very sweet boyfriend you’ve got yourself there, my dear,” the old man said, handing the book back over, having wrapped it, and placed it in a paper bag. Before you could stutter out an explanation, Spencer was sending you further into a tailspin with his own reply.

“I’m her husband, actually. We’re newlyweds.”

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.” You looked down at your left hand then, before Spencer wrapped it in his again. You’d taken the ring off after you’d woken up that first day, and not wanting any questions about it, you’d placed it in your bag and then in your jewelry box when you finally returned home. You had shown it to Penelope though, in a romcom-drunk fit of giggles.

With another thank you, you quickly left the stall behind, this time Spencer being the one to take action and pull you excitedly onward.

“What did you do with that ring?” He asked, genuinely curious. “And where did we even get it?”

“It’s in a jewelry box at my house, I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone asking questions, you know.” You felt a small tension between you then, as you suddenly acknowledged the circumstances of your relationship. You were doing the adult version of “playing house,” and neither of you was sure when the game was going to come to an end.

“And no memories, remember? We probably picked it up on the side of the road somewhere, or maybe it’s a souvenir from the chapel?”

“No, I only caught a glimpse of it, and it didn’t look like costume jewelry or something we could get for cheap.” You looked at him puzzled before an idea came to you.

“What if I send a picture of it to Penelope? See if she can come up with anything for us. I’ll tell her one of my college roommates is getting engaged and she’s bragging about the ring, so I wanted to know what it’s worth?” It was a white lie, of course. You still weren’t sure about telling Spencer about Penelope being your witness, not sure how it would go over with him.

“You think that’ll work?”

“Oh yeah, Penelope’s big on girl drama. I think she actually coined the phrase ‘I support women’s rights and I support women’s wrongs.’”

“No, Y/N, about the ring, do you think she’d be able to find it?”

“Spencer, you’ve worked with Penelope Garcia for over a decade, and you’re still doubting her?”

–X–

True to form, Penelope found the ring for you in under 24 minutes, along with a list of stores in the immediate Las Vegas area where it could be purchased, and a follow-up mention that the transaction was nowhere in either of your credit card histories, so you must’ve paid cash.

Which only begged further questions, because where the HELL had you gotten 30k in cash?

“Spencer, holy shit.” You shouted out as he pulled up to his apartment, the two of you finally calling it quits at the book fair after you noticed the sun was beginning to set.

“What? Did you not want to come back here with me, I can drive you home if you want?”

“No, Spencer it’s not that, it’s the ring. It retails for $30,000, Penelope found it. Where the hell did we get that much cash?”

“Cash?”

“For a transaction that large, we must’ve paid cash, right? I haven’t had any cold calls from my credit card company asking me to watch my back, and I certainly don’t have that amount in my regular bank accounts.”

“Oh, right. Well, we were in Vegas.” He shrugged and exited the car, but something about the words rang in your head a little as you followed him in, and you gasped realizing what it was.

“That’s it, Spencer! We went to a casino, we must have! You did your card trick magic and whatever and then boom! Wedding ring!” You smiled at the discovery as he pushed open the door to the apartment building for you, letting you bask in your discovery.

“It’s not magic, really, it’s just math.” You gave his arm a light punch at the stupid words and followed him back up to his apartment.

“Well, then, I want to do a lot more math with you, Doctor Reid.” You wiggled your eyebrows a little, and he burst into laughter in front of you, having finally reached the door to his unit.

Pushing the door open, he left the doorway empty for you to make your decision. Were you really going to follow him back into his apartment again? After making yourself a temporary guest the night before, and forcing the man to spend the entire day with you, you didn’t want to push your luck, but oh god how you wanted him to invite you to stay and never leave. Is this why people got married?

“After you, Mrs. Reid.” His words made the decision for you, and you stepped over the threshold swiftly, letting his hand on the small of your back guide you.

“Since we had takeout last night, I was maybe thinking I could cook today? That is, unless you wanted to go home?” He muttered the words a little shyly, and you found yourself squirming at his cuteness, pushing down the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“Yeah, I could eat.” Was all you managed before he pulled you into his kitchen and started preparing the pasta dish Rossi had taught you all to make only weeks prior.

–X–

You finished off the pasta quickly and just sat together talking for a while before he returned to the kitchen again for a second and bought out a bottle of wine and two mismatched wine glasses.

“A lecturer got me this when I guest lectured in their class last year, but I don’t drink that much. Do you want to share it with me?” You nodded and grabbed the glasses from his hands, letting him prepare the drinks for you.

“This is kind of like the bar, right? All the books, and now the drinking. It could probably lead to some memories, right?”

“Yeah, it probably could.” He held his drink out and you chimed your glass against his, finally taking a sip as he returned to his seat next to you. At some point, you had migrated from the dining table to the sofa, back in the same seats you’d occupied the night before.

“Let’s play a game,” you said, taking another sip for confidence as he turned to look at you with a questioning stare.

“I have a pack of cards and a chess board, but I’ll warn you I’m not the most fun to play with-”

“Not that type of game, Spencer. I mean like… twenty questions or something?”

“Oh, right, Um, how exactly do you play twenty questions?”

“Is that your first question?”

“Is that yours?”

“See you’re already great at it.” He rolled his eyes at you and shifted himself closer to you on the couch, letting his hand rest gently behind your head. A breeze blew through the room, and you shivered slightly, huddling closer to him, too.

“Okay, so question 1. What’s your favorite book?”

“War and Peace. Or at least it’s the book I reread the most often. What about you?"

“Probably something by Austen. There’s just something about an Austen hero that has me melting.” You let your hand trail up his leg, and you saw him drop his gaze to follow it’s path. “Your turn, Spence.”

“Oh, right… So, what… what is your dream date?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a trip to a cute cafe or… I don’t know, a book fair?” He laughed at that, and you asked your next question.

“Did you think you’d ever get married like this?” You took a deep breath after asking it, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer to that.

“No. I didn’t… I guess I didn’t ever think I would get married. I’ve been alone this long, you know, it seemed that I’d be alone forever, you know.” The words cracked your heart, and you let your hand fall from his thigh to his hand instead. “I’m sure you didn’t so I won’t waste my question on that.”

You laughed a little before answering, “Yeah, I… I didn’t expect it to happen that way. I was picturing more church, white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and growing so old together that we die like that old couple in The Notebook.”

“You want kids?” He asked, almost a little too quickly to be casual about it.

“Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?” Your heartbeat burst into your ears as you let the question sit between you, Spencer considering the question for a while before speaking again.

“I didn’t think about it before… with everything going on with my mom, I guess I was a little afraid about passing on my problems to a small child, but…” He let his head hang for a second, before grabbing his drink again and taking another sip.

“But now what?”

“I don’t know I just… I think it would be really nice. I love spending time with Henry, and Jack, but it’s different when it’s your own, right? Someone to make the world better for.”

“That’s a really beautiful way to put it, Spencer.” You smiled at him, and he matched your gaze, returning your smile. Your game was left abandoned between you then, the questions fizzling out as you just sat, halfway to being in his arms, and looked at him.

“It’s getting late again. And you drank, too, you should probably stay here again tonight.”

“I probably should.”

“And we should probably go to bed now, you never know when we’re going to get called in on an emergency case again.”

“You’re probably right.”

You talked your way around in circles there on his couch, but when you finally crawled into bed together, neither of you feigned the distance of the night before, instantly reaching out to hold each other as your breaths synchronised into shallow breaths.

–X–

Frustratingly though, he was gone again when you woke. You stretched yourself out on his bed, just to be sure, but he was gone. You found him this time in the kitchen, though, making you breakfast.

“Good morning, Spencer.” You walked up to him, grabbing him from behind and letting your head rest on his back, no longer shy with your physical affection. Well, still a little shy. You hadn’t kissed him again yet, and you had no plans to, waiting to see if he’d go that extra step all by himself.

“Good morning. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, and honestly, that pasta dish from yesterday is the only thing I really know how to do, so I hope you like pancakes?”

“I’m in love with pancakes, Spencer.”

“That’s a weird way to put it, but great.” You cursed yourself and pulled away from him, grabbing some plates from his cupboards for the two of you. You settled down to eat together, and before you knew it, the morning was drawing to a close.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” He asked you, leaning on the doorway to the bathroom as you brushed your teeth.

“Plans? You want… you want to spend today together as well?” The question had taken you off-guard. You really thought you’d overstayed your welcome, but here he was, asking what was next.

“Yeah, if that’s… if that’s okay with you. You still don’t remember much, right?”

“Right. But, uh, I was kind of planning on running errands today. Laundry, grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions. It’s not going to be like yesterday.”

“Well, then I guess we’re running errands. You need to drop by your house to pick up clothes?” You nodded your reply, finally washing the toothpaste from the side of your mouth.

“Perfect. You can get ready and we’ll go from there.”

–X–

A couple of hours later and a drive to the nearest supermarket, you were surprised at how true to his words Spencer was. He’d followed you to the dry cleaners, and helpfully advised you on which items were best hand-washed vs. laundered by taking a look at their material percentages. You’d accompanied him to his opticians, where he picked up the refill for his contact lenses - while wearing the eyeglasses that you secretly found very, very hot. And now here you were, the picture of domestic bliss in the aisles of a supermarket, arguing over which milk you should buy.

“What if we get called on a case? You don’t want bad dairy in your fridge for a week, trust me.”

“Spencer, I’m telling you, I’ll use it. I drink like a liter of tea a day, and I like mine pretty light.”

“Okay, but it’s your contaminated fridge, not mine.” You scoffed and laughed at him again as he pushed the shopping cart from behind you, trapping you between his body and the handle.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You rolled your eyes at his childish antics, turning around to face him as he leaned closer.

“What? I like pushing the cart.”

“You like pushing my buttons. Come on, I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the errands today?”

“I tried to help. In fact, I offered some very sound advice on which milk to buy, but I was heartlessly ignored, and now I’m pushing the cart.”

“Okay then, Mr. Tragic Hero. Fruit aisle next, please. I’m going to buy enough perishable goods to really piss you off.”

The stares you got in the supermarket were worth it for that small moment of happiness with Spencer, gently tickling your sides as you practically ran through the supermarket with him, not caring that your groceries haul was about to look like an ingredients challenge on Hell’s Kitchen. Or maybe Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares instead.

He was there next to you, and he was smiling. That’s all you really wanted for that moment.

–X–

After a day of errands, pulling up to your house left an almost empty feeling in your stomach. The groceries had been your last stop, but it had taken you almost two hours to complete them just because of the sheer chaos you’d caused between the two of you, your multiple faux-stand-offs over food choices. You’d since argued over instant coffee brands, apples vs. oranges, the longevity of a pack of Doritos, and more. It was probably the most romantic second date you’d ever been on.

He turned off the engine of the car and immediately began grabbing things from the trunk, grabbing paper bags to deposit within your house. He managed to get all of them in his arms before you even unclipped your seatbelt.

“Spencer, let me help, you can’t carry all of that on your own.”

“I can. Just unlock the door, it’s fine.”

“Okay, but if you break something, you’re driving back to the store alone to replace it.” That was all you said as you led him into the tiny apartment you called home.

“You can put the bags on the counter, I’ll unpack everything later.” He followed your directions quickly, then stepped back into the passage, readying himself by the door to leave.

“Thanks for staying with me again today, Spencer. I really enjoyed having company.”

“Me too. Even if…Y/N, even after all of this is finished, do you think we could… do this more often?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you a bit closer to him in the doorway. You let yourself fall into his arms, not caring which of your neighbors was suddenly out and about to witness this.

“I think I’d like that.” Your lips were inches from each other now, and you stilled yourself completely, not wanting any sudden movements to get between you and the kiss you had been begging for silently since Saturday night. He tilted your head up and leaned down, closing the gap as his arms tightened around you.

His lips were sweet, warm with a hint of the sweetness from the morning's pancakes still, and you wanted more of him. But as his lips slid over yours again, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth, your stomach dropped with an intense feeling of deja vu.

All of a sudden you felt his hands on your body, his lips trailing down your neck, his cock buried deep inside of you, and his voice low and husky in your ear.

With the force of your entire will, you pushed him away with the whole weight of your body and slammed the door shut in his face.

You had successfully restored part of your memory.

--X--

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