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buck-star · 3 days ago

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Housewife | L.H

>> The age gap between you and Logan was never a problem but what if he comes up with an idea — in which you would become his pretty, little housewife? <<

Pairing: Older!Boyfriend!Logan Howlett x Younger!Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 5.880 Words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, established relationship, age gap, angst, mention of housewife, misunderstanding, fluff, nicknames [bub, babygirl], smut [daddy kink, slight dom/sub, nipple play, breeding kink, kinda dirty talk, marking/lots of hickeys, begging, teasing, edging, oral (fem!rec), fingering, multiple orgasm, squirting, praises, unprotected p in v, kinda cockwarming, bit of aftercare]

Authors Note: @wtfhasmy-lifecometo Here we are! Logan and his pretty housewife — his pretty, modern housewife! Thank you for helping me to come up with that idea and helping me when I was stuck. Dividers made by me.

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

It was cold outside — almost cold enough for people to see their warm breath. The sun was only slightly brightening up the days; the autumn weather slowly turned into winter weather, and it was already visible. The leaves fell off the trees; the wind was blowing more and even older than before. People were wearing their winter coats already; the windows were foggy, and it almost froze in the mornings.

It was the perfect weather to stay home — to wear one of Logan’s big hoodies with a pair of panties and the fluffiest pair of socks you found. Luckily, you could use that day to just relax at home — your week off only started, and you made plans to use every possible opportunity to relax and do what you loved. Which started with cleaning, decorating, and baking or cooking before you would share sweet and passionate moments with your boyfriend in the evenings — cuddled up, watching movies. Maybe you would even bake or cook with him together.

The sound of the dishwasher interrupted your thoughts, making you turn around. A soft smile spread across your lips — you could finally bake some cookies. Since you and Logan used most of the bowls for snacks last night, you had to wash them first.

You stepped closer to the dishwasher, opening it to put everything that you didn’t need away, while you placed the necessary bowls and tools on the counter opposite the dishwasher.

You didn’t notice when Logan fumbled with his keys on the door, nor when he opened and closed it. Your boyfriend was standing in the doorframe, which led from the hallway into the kitchen, his shoes and coat still on. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, the way you were bending over the dishwasher. Your — his — hoodie was sliding down your bent-down upper body, revealing your ass, which was only covered by the pair of panties you were wearing.

A groan crept up his throat, threatening to slip past his lips. But Logan didn’t want to let you know that he was there already, not when his eyes could linger a moment on your ass. Not when he could admire your perfection while you didn’t even know that he was already home.

Logan wasn’t sure where those thoughts he got came from, but seeing you like that — sweet and bent over the dishwasher. It awakened things in him — things that made his heart beat faster, and his cock was then even harder in his pants.

You continued to clean, but when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you slowly got up and turned around to stare back into the green orbs of your boyfriend. Logan smirked. He took off his shoes and jacket — he wouldn’t dare to walk into the house further than there with his shoes on.

He didn’t once — Logan didn’t know that you just cleaned the floor, but he knew the moment you stomped after him, your hands were on your hips as you furrowed your brows. You looked him up and down, cleaning his throat when you reached his shoes. The threat that left your lips — Logan never thought that he would be that afraid of a toothbrush until the word left your lips. If Logan dares to walk over the freshly cleaned floor with his dirty shoes again, he will clean the whole floor in the whole house with a toothbrush.

“Hi, bub,” Logan grinned, walking through the kitchen closer to you. His lips curled up into a soft and beautiful smile — one he only reserved for you. You chuckle, waiting for the older man to make his way through the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, Lo,” you tease, using the phrase he used to say when you started dating. He rolled his eyes playfully; his calloused hands were reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer against his muscular body. Logan couldn’t deny that he loves your teasing, but right now he’s hard enough to go at least five rounds without getting tired, and your teasing didn’t make it any better.

“Such a tease, my pretty girl. Know that I get fuckin’ hard when ya bend over and do these fucking chores?” He asked, his face hiding in your neck while he pressed his lips against your soft skin. Logan’s salt and pepper beard was tickling your sensitive neck, and you giggled, pushing him softly away. “Wouldn’t ya like to stay home to be my pretty lil housewife, bub?”

Your eyes widened, and you pushed away softly, bringing some distance between the two of you. Logan didn’t think bad of it in that situation, since it was the best way to face him properly. “Your what — your housewife?”

Logan nodded with a grin; his eyes lit up even more. You couldn’t believe what he said. Your boyfriend, who was all sweet and caring, who helped you with the household, who was proud of you for reaching a goal at work — he now wanted you to be nothing but a pretty little housewife for him?

“Ya don’t have to work. Just be pretty n’ happy,” he continued. The way your expression changed gave him the feeling that you liked it and that you were happy about it. But little did he know that your change of expression — your widened eyes and your slightly parted lips — were everything but a kind of happy expression.

“Logan…” you mumbled, shaking your head. He tilted his head, wondering what you would think about the idea. Logan loved the idea; you could be happy and he would do the work. “I don't think we should do that.”

“Why not, bub?” Logan almost pouted, not because you said no, but more because he didn't quite understand why you wouldn't like such an idea. It wasn’t that much of a big deal; he would make the money and care for the two of yo, while you can stay home, do what you're doing anyway, and use the rest of the time for other things to finish what you wanted to finish a while ago already, or just do what you love. “You wouldn't miss anything.”

“I would. My freedom, my independence." You said, narrowing your eyes as you looked at Logan with a slightly angry expression. How can he say that you wouldn't miss anything when he would kind of imprison you and make you dependent on him? You adored that he was — especially for his age — pretty familiar with modern relationships and modern things in general. But in that very moment you wondered if that was just a facade to get you to the point where he could turn you into a little housewife for him. “We aren't in the 1900’s anymore, Logan. I'm not gonna be a stupid housewife to be treated like a cleaning machine with fuck function.”

“A what—?” Logan asked, and his eyes widened when he noticed how you understood it. Of course, he knew you weren't in the 1900’s anymore, and he didn't want to treat you like that, but that's what you think. That was how he sounded for you — that you're not good for anything but cleaning and fucking. “Bub, that's not—”

“That's not what you meant? Then what else is the definition of ‘housewife’?” You interrupted him, glaring at him with a hurt but cold expression. Your boyfriend swallowed thickly, shaking his head slowly as he took a few steps closer. You immediately lifted your arms to keep the distance; your hands would press against his chest, and he would make another step closer, but Logan understood and stayed still again. “Don't you dare to come closer and try to convince me to become a stupid, fucked-out housewife. I'm an independent woman; I earn my own money; I can take care of myself.”

Without another word, you turn away from your boyfriend and walk out of the kitchen. Logan wanted to follow you, wanted to talk to you, but he knew that he needed to give you a moment to calm down. And maybe he could use that moment to think about a better way to formulate what he meant. A way that wouldn’t sound like it did, a way that wouldn't hurt you like it did before.

Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes drifting to the dishwasher, which was still half full with the clean dishes. He couldn't shake those pretty pictures out of his head, but also not the way your eyes showed so much hurt and coldness in them as he asked you to become his sweet housewife. To distract himself, he leaned down, taking a few plates before putting them into the kitchen counter, continuing the chores you started before he interrupted you earlier.

While he made the dishes, you walked into your shared bedroom, letting yourself fall down on the bed. You couldn't understand him; he never mentioned anything like that. Of course, sometimes he acted a bit like someone his age, but most of the time he didn't. But now, was it his facade that broke down and revealed his real him, or was it just who he always was and you ignored it?

Your eyes were focused on the ground in front of you, one of your legs bouncing. Tears blurred your view slowly. Was that really what he wanted? Did Logan see you as nothing but a housewife who will do all the chores and is only good to keep his bed warm?

Your thoughts were running wild. Logan used to help you with the chores; he always took good care of you. He was happy with you when you reached a goal — no matter if it was personal life or work life. Your boyfriend was the sweetest and most appreciative man you ever met. Your age gap was never something you thought much about — he had more experience, but that wasn't bad at all.

After a while, you heard a soft knock at the door. You looked up, your eyes immediately finding the green orbs of your boyfriend, who was standing in the doorframe. His eyes were filled with love and affection, and you felt the warmth spreading in your stomach. Logan smiled softly; he rested his head against the doorframe; he didn't move before you allowed him to come closer. He didn't want to make you mad again.

“Can we talk?” His voice was soft as he was waiting for you to either nod or shake your head. He knew you well enough to know that you would give him the opportunity to talk before you said anything. You always did it when he asked you to talk about something you discussed — and he appreciated it because it gave him the opportunity to tell you what he meant without you both being mad again.

You nodded, watching him push himself off the door frame and walk over to the bed. Instead of sitting down next to you like he usually does, he kneels down between your legs. His knees were cracking, and your lips curled up, forming a soft smile. Logan grumpled, his arms resting on your thighs, and he tilted his head back slightly to look into your eyes.

“That’s what ya like? Ya old man's knees cracking?” Logan chuckled, leaning down to kiss your bare thighs before he looked back up. His calloused hands were stroking the insides of your thighs softly, causing a shiver running down your spine. “I'm sorry, bub. I didn't mean to let it sound like it sounded.”

You listened carefully to him, trying to understand what he meant with the way he said it earlier. With one of your hands, you reach out to brush your fingers over his bearded cheek. The pepper and salt hair were soft against your fingers, and you sighed softly. Logan smiled at you, squeezing your thighs gently to get your attention back. You didn't even notice that your eyes drifted down to his cheek where your hand was, but you then looked back up into his eyes.

“I don’t want ya to be a housewife to do chores and be a fucktoy for me. But I've seen the way ya eyes light up and your smile is even brighter when ya have days off and can just do what ya want. I love takin’ care of ya, of us. And I get enough money to care for both of us. I love ya, bub, I want ya to be happy,” he continued. And you finally understood what he meant. He didn't want to turn you into someone you aren't; he didn't want you to be dependent on him. Logan only wanted you to be happy. “And seeing you here, jus’ in my shirt and ya panties. It made me hard, yeah, but it's not about sex. It's about your happiness. Ya won't have to stress ya'self out with ya coworkers or ya boss.”

You nodded, a soft smile still across your lips, while you felt a few tears welling up in your eyes. “I'm sorry… I-I think I was afraid that you don't see me as the independent woman I am,” you admitted, earning a soft chuckle from Logan.

“Ya know, your independence makes ya damn hot. I wouldn't mind taking care of my girl more often, but I would never want to change ya,” Logan mumbled. His expression was lovely and soft, while his thick fingers were still stroking your legs softly. “I jus’ know that ya don't like a job that much.”

“I would love to work in the library for a few hours in the week,” you said, your eyes moving over his face. You caught every little detail of his handsome face and the way his skin wrinkled around his eyes and lips. “There are so many recipes and ideas of decoration I wanted to try out for a while now. And I find more ideas every day.”

Logan chuckled, getting up slowly. His knees cracked once again, and you giggled. Your boyfriend groaned, shaking his head when he towered above you. He leaned forward, pushing you with his weight back into the soft mattress of your bed. His hands were on both sides of your shoulders, while he held himself slightly above you to not smash you underneath him. Just when he was about to bring his lips closer to yours, you pushed at his shoulder, earning a questioning expression on his face.

“What about the other woman in town, the gossip girls?” you asked. There was a group of middle-aged to elderly people who liked to gossip about everything and everyone. They were always wondering how someone like Logan could be interested in you and the other way around. But would they find out that you would be his sweet little housewife? They would talk about it without even knowing much about you or your relationship with Logan. “They will laugh about it; they won't understand it. That I'm more than just a housewife for you.

“If they don't understand, then they haven't yet either. They don't know how a real man treats his girl. They are just envious because they don't have a man who carries them in their hands like I carry my princess,” Logan mumbled, leaning closer again. A mischievous glint was visible in his eyes. Logan's voice was suddenly way lower, and the grin on his lips widened. “How about we remind them of what you have and what they will never get?”

A soft whine leaves your lips when Logan presses his lips softly against yours. His big hands slid up and down your sides, pushing the shirt up to reveal more of your skin. You brought your hands to his neck, wrapping them tightly around it to pull Logan even closer. After a moment, he pulls away, your shirt above your breasts already. Both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Ya haven't answered yet, bub,” Logan reminded you, chuckling when he looked into your face. Your lips were red and slightly swollen, your eyes on him but with a lustful glint in them. Logan leaned down again, pecking your lips before he moved his lips along your jawline to your ear. “Ya look pretty like that, all fucked out, and I haven't even given ya anything but a kiss yet.”

“Lo, please,” you whined, bucking your hips against his. Logan pinned your hips back into the mattress immediately. His fingers were digging into your waist; his smirk widened when you whined more and squirmed in his tight grip. “Please, please, Lo!”

“No, try again. I know you can do better, bub,” he growled, his fingers still digging into your hips. He didn't move, just staring down at you with an amused expression. You knew what he wanted to hear, and you really wanted to say it, but his warm hands, his tight grip, his eyes on you, and just the way he kissed you — it made it so hard to swallow the lumb and beg for more than just a ‘please, Lo.’ “Come on, babygirl.”

“Daddy, please?” You whined, wiggling in his grip, and he finally released you and let you thrust your hips upwards against his. Logan chuckled low in his throat, his lips crashing on yours once again. Only the familiar sound of his claws coming out of his hands made you pull away and stare at the shattered shirt you were slightly covered with. “Lo—“

“Ah, try again, babygirl. Don’t want ya to complain; ya can have a new shirt; my wardrobe is full, so let Daddy enjoy the view of his girl,” he grumbled, sliding down your body until he was able to hide his face between your breasts. Logan kissed the soft skin there, sucking and biting softly before he slowly moved his face to one of your nipples. He left a trail of wet kisses and even some hickeys.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, arching your back to push your tits into him. Logan grunted against you, his tongue twirling around your nipple. It was like shocks were sent to your body, his tongue working around it. Logan changed between licking over your nipple and nippling at the skin around it, and it was driving you crazy. “More, please, Daddy, more.”

Your boyfriend pushed your hips back into the mattress. He didn’t move away from your chest, though, just taking one of your nipples between his lips before sucking on it softly. He then moved toward the other, continuing the kisses and bites before he gave your nipple the full attention again. “Imagine how full they will be once I pumped ya full with my babies.”

Logan was thrusting his hips forward, his hard, big bulge pressing between your legs against your panties. You could practically feel every inch of him already; you were sure you would be able to see the outline through his pants if you looked at his crotch.

A low groan left his lips, his teeth scratching over the swell of your breasts before he kissed his way down your belly. Logan couldn’t help but have to leave as many hickeys and marks of him on your skin as possible. He wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him; his marks should be able to be seen on your whole body.

“Such a good girl, being so good for me, aren’t ya, bub?” He groaned against your skin. Logan looked up to look into your face as he was biting into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly before he thought it would be easier to cut your panties with his claws as well — so he did. He still held the fabric between his teeth, throwing it to the side before he showed you his claws with a grin. “They are nice to undress ya before ya can even complain.”

“I’m not complaining unless you ruin the clothes,” you mumbled, looking down at your boyfriend, who was kneeling in front of the bed with his face close to your dripping pussy. You shivered as his warm breath was coming down against your cunt.

“Ya know, it’s not me who ruined them first,” Logan growled with a grin. His claws were back in his hands as he grasped your legs, placed your feet on the edge of the bed, and pulled you closer by your hips. His eyes were locked with yours for a moment longer before he looked down between your legs. He knew you were dripping; he smelled the sweetness of your arousal. Your boyfriend leaned closer, kissing you just above your pussy with a soft chuckle. “Think ya ruined ya panties all by ya’self before I did, babygirl. Ya’re soaking.”

Without another word, he leaned down, his lips pressing soft but tender kisses on your pussy. Logan used both of his hands to hold your thighs spread open for him while he licked a thick strip from your dripping entrance to your clit. A low groan left his lips as he finally had your taste back on his tongue, his lips coming to a halt at your clit. The moment he started to suck softly, you knew you wouldn't last long before the first orgasm was about to crash down on you.

Your moans and whines got louder, and Logan knew that he only needed to continue his action before you would fall apart for him. But he didn’t want to give you it just yet, at least not without having you beg him. So, he let go of your clit with a soft pop. Logan smirked; he waited a moment, letting your builded orgasm slowly fade away.

“Logan, please. No teasing,” you whined, arching your back, but he just chuckled. When your orgasm completely faded, he lowered his head again and kept sucking your clit. But this time he used one of his hands, bringing his fingers to your entrance. Logan grinned against you, his thick digits smearing your wetness all over your pussy.

“If ya want to come, then do it when I push in; if ya don't, you won’t get my cock,” Logan said in a low and slightly darker tone. Your boyfriend pushed two of his fingers into you, circling your clit with his tongue while his eyes were fixated on your face. He needed to see your expression when you would come all over his fingers.

A low groan that left his lips sent vibration through your body; moans fell off your lips, and you couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers as tight as possible. Your mouth fell open, the sounds he loved so much coming out like racked breaths. With another hard and deep thrust of his fingers into you, you came all over his fingers.

“Good girl, such a good girl from me. Babydoll, come, give me another one. Need to have ya all nice and wet before I can give ya my cock,” he mumbled. Logan never stopped pumping his fingers lazily in and out of your tightness.

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. Logan wasn’t really helpful; his talented fingers were still rubbing against the spongy spot inside of you. His tongue flicked around your clit and in now time you were moaning and whining once again. Your fingers were digging into Logan’s hair, pulling him closer even though you could feel your clit burning slightly from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, squeeze my fingers already so much, bub,” Logan grumbled against your clit. He was thrusting his fingers in a steady rhythm deep into you; he was always reaching parts you never could. And your boyfriend knew exactly when and how to curl his fingers to make you scream, to make your toes curl, your legs shaking, and your breath hitching. “Fuckin’ love when ya look all fucked out for me. Bein’ all sweet around everyone, but only I know that my girl can be such a filthy little slut for her old man, huh?”

“Daddy, please!” There wasn’t anything else left in your mind than his name, Daddy, and please. And fuck, he loved it; he hadn’t even fucked you yet, at least most properly with his cock. “Please, need you, Logan!”

“What do ya need, babygirl? Need to come? Need Daddy’s dick? Need me to stop?” He asked, smirking when you nodded before you started to shake your head about the last question. Logan enjoyed it way too much; wouldn’t his dick be so painfully hard and your pout so adorable, he would have edged and teased you a while longer?

Your legs were shaking when he curled his fingers deep inside of you once again. With another flick of his tongue around your clit you came once again. Logan smirked as he noticed your squirting, soaking his hand and beard. Your boyfriend licked over your cunt, trying to get every little drop of your arousal before he leaned back. He fucked you slowly through your orgasm until you were squirming under him once again. Only then he pulled his fingers out of you, earning a whine from you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled, sticking his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean as well. “Think ya can take another one or need a break?”

Your legs were still shaking, your heart racing, but your pussy screamed for more, for his cock. Logan slowly undresses himself, giving you a bit of a show as he revealed the thick muscles he was hiding underneath his shirt. His pants followed, and you licked your lips as you saw the thick bulge in his boxer briefs.

“Ya like what ya see, babygirl?” Logan asked. He waited for your nodding before he pushed the thin fabric down as well, leaving him naked. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip of his thick length was red, leaking pre-cum. Your eyes wandered down his thick shaft, along the vein, and you whined instinctively when you imagined the feeling of it in your sore cunt.

“Love what I see, but need to feel you, Daddy." Need to feel your cock, please.” You wiggled your ass, your legs spread wide open. Logan had the perfect view onto your throbbing pussy. His tongue darted out, and he licked across his plump lips before he took a step closer to you again. Logan grasped your hips, lifting you up before throwing you in the middle of the bed. He slowly crawled into it, pushing your legs apart to lay down in between them. Logan's thick cock was pressing against your wet cunt. “Please, need you already.”

“So impatient, bub,” he smirked down at you, pressing his lips along your jaw. The movements of your hips in his direction caused slight friction, and he groaned against your skin. Your impatience made him want to tease you further, but your pussy rubbing against his dick caused the animal in him to take over. Logan brought one of his hands between your bodies, stroking his cock before he lined it up with your entrance. “Say ‘please, daddy’.”

“Pl—” You get interrupted when his thick cock pushed into your tight cunt with one thrust of his hips against yours. Logan grunted, a smirk forming on his face when he bottomed out immediately. Your walls were squeezing him tightly, sucking him in deeper. Your lips were parted, and your eyes widened while you looked up at him, bringing your hands to his back to pull him closer. “Please, daddy.”

“Good girl, so good,” he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips against yours. Logan slowly pulled his cock out, only a few inches before he thrusted back into your tightness. His balls were flush against your ass; your dripping arousal coated them already, and he hasn’t even started. “Fuck, ya so wet for me, bub.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving red marks. Logan wouldn’t admit it to anyone but you, but he enjoyed the slight pain that came when your nails scratched over his skin. And even though the marks healed pretty quick, he did enjoy them anyway.

Your boyfriend didn’t move his lips away from yours, at least not really. He gave the two of you a moment to catch your breath before he kissed you again. Logan’s hips were moving slowly, letting you feel every vein and inch of his cock deep in your tight pussy.

“Ya feelin’ so good, so tight. Squeezing my cock so hard, feel like I cum like a teenager,” Logan growled against your lips, smirking at you. You chuckled in response, squeezing him even more to get another groan, followed by a low moan out of your boyfriend's throat. “Fuck, ya really want that? Want to have me cumin’ before ya?”

You nodded, pulling him into another kiss. Logan pushed his hips flush against yours, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. You moaned, nails digging further into his shoulders — the feeling turned him on even more, and he couldn’t help but have to pull almost completely out before thrusting with one hard and fast movement back into you.

Logan’s thrusts become harder, but he keeps a slow pace, letting you feel him stretching your tight cunt around his thick length. Your heart was beating fast; you were panting because of the pleasure that was cursing through your body.

“Doing so well for me, bub. Can feel ya clenching around me, sucking me even deeper. Such a greedy little girl for me,” Logan groaned, his lips pressing once again against yours. His tongue slid across your lips, asking for access, which you gladly gave him. Your tongue dancing with his, causing the feelings — the pleasure and love — to intensify.

"Your...” you mumbled, panting when his cock hit your cervix once again. Logan chuckled, knowing exactly what you meant — and if he was possessive and in love with you before, then he was now even more. He loved you, every inch, every part. Logan loved you.

“Yeah, my greedy little girl, all mine.” A whine left your lips, the words making you clench harder around him. It took everything in him to not spill his seed into you, but you pushed him further to the edge with every little squeeze of your walls around him. “Come, babygirl, come for me. Come for daddy.”

Logan snaked one of his calloused hands between your bodies, finding your clit immediately. He added some pressure on your bundle of nerves, making you gasp, and the grasp around his shoulders got almost painful. Logan felt his cock twitching inside of you, but not only he was close; he knew exactly how to play with you to make you whine and wiggle underneath him — and especially how to make you come before he’s going to come.

You thrust your hips against his, his balls slapping against your ass with every of his or your movements. Your boyfriend starts rubbing circles on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck... fuck.. please, bub, come for me. Need ya to come, please." Logan panted, his hips thrusting less rhythmically into you, his forehead falling against yours, and he has to take his hand away from your pussy. With both of his hands on either side of your shoulders, his claws come out, ripping the sheets and the mattress. “Please, fuckin’ shit. Come, babygirl, come all over Daddy’s dick.”

You’re unsure if you want to chuckle or moan, but Logan was just too cute once he gets desperate. He needed you to come; he had a lot of stamina, but right now he just wanted to come with you before he would take care of you. He needed it. He needed to feel your pulsating walls literally squeezing the cum out of him.

With his cock, he was reaching all the right spots, and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge; a particular hard thrust pushed you over it. You were squirming underneath him while he held you down on the mattress with his weight. You moaned loudly, almost screaming his name when he kept fucking into you; his thrusts got sloppier and faster.

“Please, bub. Fuck, ya feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his breath heavy, his eyes staring down into yours while he felt his cock twitching once again. With a low growl, he pushes himself completely into you, his breath fanning over your face as he finally comes inside of you — pumping all of his cum deep into your clenching cunt. A low moan left his lips; you were so beautiful and all his. “Fuck… fucking fill ya up. Babygirl, you’re doing so good. Feelin’ perfect around my cock.”

You were both panting. Logan let himself fall down on top of you, his face hiding in the crock of your neck. Logan slowly removed his claws from the mattress and the sheets, groaning when he noticed the mess he caused with that.

“Guess we need new sheets and maybe a new mattress. The third this year…” You mumbled and chuckled softly. You slowly brought your hands to his hair, twirling his soft strands around your fingers. It always steadied you and also him — the way you held him so close to you, your soft touches after he practically fucked you dumb.

“Mhm… but we can do that later. Right now, jus’ wanna be close to ya, wanna take care of ya,” he grumbled into your neck. He was still breathless; soft groans and even moans left your lips when your walls clenched around his softening cock. “How about a warm bath?”

“With lots of bubbles?” You asked, feeling the nodding of Logan’s head. Of course, since you first introduced him to bubble baths, he was turning into a child when it came to it. He adored it, especially when he could blow them at you. Most of the time, half of the bathroom was wet and slippery, but none of you could care about it.

“All the bubbles we want.” He smirked, lifting his head softly. Logan pressed his lips softly against yours; his hands were moving up and down your sides, caressing your skin softly. “I love you, bub. Now, let’s get us both into the tub.”

“I love you, too, Lo.” You mumbled against his lips, pecking them. Logan lifted himself softly, his cock still inside of you, and he took care that it wasn’t going to slip out of you just yet. He placed his hands underneath your thighs, lifting you up. “Gonna keep you warm now or ready for another round in the tub?”

“Maybe both… but need to keep ya stuffed full. Gonna get that pretty belly of yours filled with my babies,” Logan groaned, his cock twitching about the thought. But he wasn’t the only one who was excited about the idea; your pussy was gripping his thick length tightly, walls pulsating and sucking him deeper into you. “Like that, huh. Gonna keep you stuffed with my cum, bub. But first I will give ya a good message in the tub before I’m gonna give ya more of my cum. My sweet, precious girl, my pretty, modern housewife.”

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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer.

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper.

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey."

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire.

"Yeah?" he asks fondly.

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last.

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you.

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?"

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over."

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said.

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe.

"Do you like my socks?"

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?"

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too."

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed.

"Not much. Why?"

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole.

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles."

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh."

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy.

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder.

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks.

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you."

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?"

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe.

"Will you help me get to bed?"

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket.

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me."

"I'm tired," you say.

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone.

"And we'll have a hug?"

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up.

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor.

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his.

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking.

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow.

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly.

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?"

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you."

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions.

"You don't?" he asks gently.

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care.

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom."

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek.

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on.

He puts you on the end of the bed.

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around.

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages."

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs.

"Stuck," you mumble.

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go."

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?"

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?"

"I think this part will be easier."

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants.

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now.

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips.

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward.

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him.

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says.

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do.

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug."

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his.

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen.

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance.

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable.

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down.

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close.

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you."

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple.

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble.

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze.

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks.

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie."

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck.

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep.

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?"

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home.

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?"

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again.

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs.

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest.

"You were great. I missed sober you, though."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers.

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory.

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk."

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it.

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe."

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Note

'oh, you LOVE me!' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

The team visiting Spencer for one reason or another on their day off & reader opens the door (maybe even wearing one of Spence's shirts) and that's how they all find out Spencer is in a relationship?

The doorbell rings, and even if Spencer weren't hobbling around on crutches with a rolled ankle, you'd have bolted to answer the door. You've got new shoes coming, a treat from your boyfriend himself, and they're set to arrive today before 9PM. It's 6, and you're eager to finally put them on.

However, it's not the mailman at the door, not unless the US Postal Service has gotten a huge budget increase. The man that stands at the door is dressed in a fine suit, something you're sure cost more than double what your shoes had, and he seems mildly surprised to see you behind the door.

There's a posse of people behind him, and you wonder if this is some sort of special delivery system. But no one seems to have your package, and you tilt your head at an angle, "Can I help you?"

His eyes narrow infinitesimally, curiously, "Yes, we're here to see Dr. Spencer Reid," The man speaks up, his voice deep and smooth, "Did we have the wrong address?"

"No- No! Hotch," Spencer shouts from his place on the couch, and you hear the clatter of crutches, "Hotch, wait!"

"Spencer," You gush, ditching the door to make sure he doesn't tip himself over in his sudden pursuit of his callers, "Spence, go slow, you'll trip."

"I'm fine," He pants, moving as fast as he can to the door, his cheeks unusually rosy, "Uh, what- what do you guys need?"

Upon sighting him, the rest of the people behind the door exchange glances with each other, like they hadn't quite believed just his voice. You're hovering awkwardly behind Spencer now, looking up at your houseguests curiously, and waiting for them to speak.

"We brought you cookies," A blonde woman behind the man in the suit pipes up, hands decked out in jewelry as she brandishes a ziploc bag of treats, "And- and Morgan has medical tape he thinks you should use on your ankle, and JJ made a casserole, and we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was going to offer to hire you a live-in nurse," An older man pipes up from the back, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, glancing back at you with a small smirk, "But I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Thank you for the stuff." Spencer reaches out for the bag, keeping his crutch stabilized beneath his shoulder, "Y/N, can you- the casserole, um-"

"I got it," You jump forward to help, taking a dish from another blonde woman standing beside the first. The bottom is warmed, and she smiles kindly at you as she passes it off, nodding at your thnaks.

"Here's the tape," A man pipes up, muscles straining the t-shirt he's wearing as he sets a roll of medtape over the foil on the casserole. He grins at you, and the expression shifts more into a teasing one when he speaks to Spencer, "Sorry for interrupting."

"Oh, you weren't interrupting," You shake your head, "Are you- you're Spencer's coworkers, right?"

At their round of nods, you readjust your grip on the casserole, "Would you want to come eat with us? We could-"

"Our apartment is messy," Spencer cuts you off, hand already on the door to shut it on their shit-eating grins, "Thanks for the food, sorry you can't stay. See you tomorrow."

He shuts the door without offering them another word, and you gasp, "Spencer! That's rude, open the door!"

"They are relentless," Spencer locks it, heading towards you and backing you against the kitchen counter where you set the casserole, "If you let them in, they'll tease us both until our ears bleed, angel. They're not offended, and you can meet them some other time," He promises, kissing your forehead where you stand frowning at him, "When we're at someone else's house, and my ankle is healed so that we can run to the car and leave early when they lay into us."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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solaireverie · 9 months ago

Text

aa23 | put it into speed drive

summary: [ lawyer!alex albon x f!driver!reader — social media au ] alex is contracted to help you get out of trouble after you land in hot water

faceclaim: florence pugh

warnings: language, dirty jokes

author’s note: hello party people!! so happy to bring you the first installment of in their shoes, my series with @lorarri about driver!reader. chaotic reader is the love of my life frfr

liked by landonorris, redbullracing, tatemcrae and 4,582,193 others

yourusername eat pasta drive fasta 🏎🍝

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user mother is mothering 😩

user i live for y/n's photodumps

user everyone say thank you y/n for feeding us!!

redbullracing let her cook 😌

user the way y/n looks at the camera in slide 2 🫣

liked by christianhorner, sebastianvettel, redbullusa and 9,105,273 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing Oracle Red Bull Racing is aware of the charges being brought against driver Y/N L/N. Oracle Red Bull Racing respects all official decisions and will be assisting Y/N in any legal proceedings. We ask for privacy and discretion during this period of time.

comments on this post have been disabled

7,482 likes

y/nupdates y/n left the monaco police station this morning accompanied by her lawyer, alex albon. alex is also a family friend and was contracted by red bull to help y/n with any legal issues that may arise. y/n and alex left on motorcycle shortly after she was released. when asked about recent events, y/n stated that she isn't worried and that she's in good hands (implied to be alex's)

pictured above: y/n this morning, a photo captured by passerby of alex on his bike waiting for y/n, and a picture of alex found on his firm's website

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user y/n's slaying everywhere 😍 even getting arrested isn't stopping her from serving with every outfit

↪ user omg fr i love her jacket and boots

↪ user we should have a y/n style account ngl

user damn her lawyer's hotttt 😳

↪ user yeah exactly!!! so glad someone else sees my ✨ vision ✨

user lol i can already see this dude getting a migraine within the first two hours of dealing with y/n

↪ user she's a menace and while i love her for that i pity her lawyer 😂

↪ user our thoughts and prayers for mr albon 🕯🕯🕯

628,192 likes

effwontea ok so who was going to tell me that y/n's lawyer is hot, cute, AND good with animals - admin g 👾

what crimes do i need to commit to hire alex to defend me 😳 - admin t 💃

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user idk if anyone's noticed but he's actually in a few of her older vlogs 👀 guess they've been friends for a while

↪ user and she hasn't showed us him until now???

↪ user i went back to watch the videos with alex in them and omg they're so cute togetherrrrrr

↪ user ikr!!! did you see that part where she drives them around monaco and he's literally scared for his life but also staring at y/n with heart eyes 😍

↪ user guess this isn't the first time that y/n has terrorized alex with her driving skills then 😂

user is it just me or are they really freaking adorable together

↪ user omg fr!! he balances out her chaos and she makes him laugh so much ❤️ my heart can't take this

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 28,492,123 others

tagged: alex_albon

yourusername everyone say thank you to alex_albon's savior complex 😌 love u 🫶

view comments

user did she just... hard launch???

↪ user i think???????

↪ user knowing y/n she kept him a secret just for the chaos 😂

georgerussell63 about time, mate!

↪ landonorris thanks a lot for making me lose my bet with george 🙄

↪ alex_albon what were you two even betting on?

↪ yourusername when i would get arrested and you'd have to defend me in court 😜 btw georgerussell63 i expect dinner from whatever lando needs to give you

alex_albon love you too (even if you exhaust me sometimes 🙃)

↪ yourusername don't lie, you like it 😘

user so now on top of dealing with y/n in court he has to deal with her every day 😭 thoughts and prayers dude

↪ yourusername i promised to behave in public if he lets me misbehave in private 😉

↪ alex_albon you call that behaving???

↪ landonorris ewww get a room

↪ yourusername get a win 🤷‍♀️

↪ georgerussell63 MIC. DROP.

↪ landonorris alex_albon can i hire you to sue y/n and george for emotional damage

↪ alex_albon i'm afraid that you're on your own 😔 i have no intention of stepping into a courtroom with y/n ever again

↪ yourusername guess who's sleeping on the couch tonight!

↪ alex_albon lando because he insists that we've adopted him?

↪ yourusername correct ✅

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

series masterlist | masterlist | lola's masterlist

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon imagine #alex albon fanfic

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emphistic · 4 months ago

Text

Forget-me-nots

A/N: call me Nick Cannon the way im out here rawdogging this fever

<- Series m.list

“Hey, babe,” you said, catching Sukuna by surprise. You placed your hands on the back of his gaming chair, “I’m gonna go on a walk. D’you wanna come with?”

“I’d rather go for a run, but God knows your slow ass wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Sukuna removed his headset and placed it on his desk, before following you out of the room.

If he had kept his headset on for just a little longer, Sukuna would’ve heard the protests and complaints of Gojo. The white-haired man was utterly disappointed at Sukuna for leaving in the middle of a game, who was going to carry him now that Sukuna was gone?

Sukuna looked you up and down, watching you as you put on your shoes, and let out a scoff, getting your attention. “You’re forgetting something.”

You met his gaze, “Uh huh, go on.”

“A jacket, dumbass. A jacket.”

You waved your hand around, dismissing his suggestion. “Don’t be silly, Sukuna. It doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“That so?” He raised a brow.

“Mhm.”

“It’s literally dark out, babe. Who are you trying to impress?”

The two of you continued on your way out of the complex without putting an end to your usual lighthearted banter. The sky was clear of clouds when you made it past the front doors; and cool air immediately hit your skin. Okay, maybe Sukuna wasn’t wrong in reminding you to layer up.

But, despite his demeanor on the exterior, Sukuna was far from cloud nine. Was that selfish of him? To truly have everything, and yet, still want more? He managed to get himself a loving girlfriend, not to mention, one that was exceptionally beautiful, both on the inside and outside. He should be content; he should be satisfied. But how could he? When guilt gnawed at him every second, every minute, every hour?

Sukuna was afraid, deathly.

He could tell you about the bet, but it was inevitable that you would leave him right after. Or, he could choose to keep silent about the bet for the rest of his life. But that would mean Naoya Zen’in having a leg up on him, and that was no good.

Sukuna couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at your face, admiring your elated expression. He liked the sound of your voice, and hearing you laugh. The thought of you being gone plagued his mind, and he knew he would be a dead man walking if that nightmare became true.

Things truly could not be worse for the pink-haired man, who felt utterly pathetic. He felt vulnerable, and weak. Completely opposite of the image most people portrayed him as. Which is quite amusing, to say the least.

Sukuna was at a crossroad, but it was clear he wasn’t choosing either path. Maybe it was the worst choice, maybe it was the best choice, but Sukuna knew that doing nothing was probably the most impactful choice, and so he decided to let God play out his fate, leaving him to wait day and night, never knowing when you would find out and his world would flip upside down.

To bet something is to “risk something, usually a sum of money, against someone else’s on the basis of the outcome of a future event, such as the result of a race or game.” Sukuna knew that, when he was drunk at that damned party. Sukuna knew that, when he signed up for this. Sukuna knew; he wasn’t stupid; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

“—Nobara was telling me, after the party, about my . . . complexion, or, I don’t know. My skin was apparently glowing—”

“Are you a virgin or something?” Sukuna cut you off with a laugh, turning to look at you. And, not that he had any knowledge in the field, but, with the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the wind, and with the way the moonlight casted upon your face, illuminating your best features, you looked just like a cinematic masterpiece.

You gave him a pointed look, as if to say, You would know, and again, Sukuna laughed.

“It’s called afterglow, babe. Science-y stuff, I figured you would already know, but I guess not.”

“Can you go one second without being rude?”

“You’re funny; don’t get your hopes up too high,” Sukuna ruffled your hair as you both continued down the dimly lit street.

It was a quiet, peaceful night. There would usually be something happening a block away, maybe sirens in the distance, kids playing around and screaming, but there was not. Maybe that was a blessing, maybe that was a curse, but it left you and Sukuna both to your own thoughts, and that was comforting enough.

“Is everything okay? Did you have a long day?” you asked, breaking the overwhelming silence. You turned to look at Sukuna with worry written all over your expression.

Sukuna had been tense ever since he got home, like a heavy weight had been placed upon his shoulders. You thought it strange; your boyfriend was a carefree man. He was easygoing and laid back; he knew how to start up a conversation, get everyone’s mood up, but this. . . This wasn’t Sukuna.

Whenever you two went on walks or runs together, sure, there’s a silence, but it was never like. . . Like something was wrong. It was never like this.

“Hm? No, I’m fine. I just have a lot to think about, that’s all. Don’t worry for me, ‘kay?” Sukuna gave you a smile, but it only tightened the knot in your chest, your concern doing the opposite of diminishing.

Truth was, you didn’t know what to think. And if you had to be honest, you couldn’t say your mind hadn’t wandered to the idea of Sukuna being unsatisfied with your relationship. Was he upset with you? Did he think you too much? You shuddered just thinking about it.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna watched as your eyebrows furrowed, and you chewed at your bottom lip. It was a habit of yours — the latter, and Sukuna noticed you only gave in to it whenever you were anxious or deep in thought.

“Hey, I was thinking, how about we go out sometime?” asked Sukuna, out of the blue.

You two hadn’t been on a date since the baseball game, and that was a while ago. Sukuna missed spending an entire day with you, and was desperate for something fun to take his mind off of the bet.

“You make it sound like we haven’t even kissed yet,” you covered your mouth, trying, but failing, to stifle a giggle.

“What else did you want me to say, huh?” Sukuna humored you, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to lift the tension.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like, ‘Do you want to—,’ actually, I have no idea. How do you ask someone on a not-first date?”

“That’s a good question,” Sukuna added. “Now that I think of it, I’m not sure.”

“Eh, whatever. Any other way is totally better than yours.”

“Now who’s the rude one, hm? Do you want to go on that date or what?”

You laughed, “I’m only teasing, ‘Kuna. Of course I do; I don’t even know why you’re asking.”

“It’s polite.”

“You? Polite? Hilarious.” You placed a hand on Sukuna’s arm, but he pulled away, feigning to be hurt by your words. But you knew he was just trying to joke around.

“Awh, baby, don’t be sad. How can I make it up to my handsome, handsome boyfriend?”

“You can’t.” Sukuna turned his head away from you, hiding his grin.

You didn’t take no for an answer, and stood on your tiptoes in order to plant a wet kiss on Sukuna’s cheek, even going as far to voice a Mwah! sound.

When Sukuna still didn’t look at you, you started to wonder if he was genuinely upset. But when he abruptly turned around to smash his lips on yours, all other thoughts in your head completely vanished and you melted in his arms. Placing your hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist, you kissed him back just as fervently.

One of Sukuna’s hands wandered down your middle to the small of your back and rested just above your behind.

With your boyfriend’s lips on yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and his murmuring of sweet nothings every now and then, all previous worries and concerns of yours were no match. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

“You look good,” Sukuna said, a sultry look in his eyes as he shamelessly checked you out.

You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks, “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He shrugged, “I try.”

“So, where are we headed?” You asked, immediately after entering your boyfriend’s car.

Sukuna hadn’t told you anything since he asked you out. Only thing he said was, “Look pretty for me, like you always do, and bring a jacket or something.” But since he knew there was no way in hell you were going to listen to that last bit, he already knew he was giving you his hoodie if you needed it.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know,” said Sukuna, as he started driving down the road.

“Oh, yeah? What, you gonna drive me to a secluded area and chop off my head or something? Is that why you’re being so lowkey about all of this?”

“Would you like that?” Sukuna quipped, turning to look at you as he pulled up to a red light.

You laughed, “I don’t know; I haven’t tried it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It wasn’t long till Sukuna and you arrived at a crowded space overshadowed by the large buildings beside it. Said space was filled from corner to corner with food vendors and other small shops selling trinkets, clothes, toys, et cetera. There was music booming from speakers located all around, and the air smelled like a variety of food that had you salivating on the spot. Not to mention, the beautiful array of string lights above all the stalls, giving an authentic sense and feel to things.

Families, friends, couples, and individuals walked through the streets of the area. Carrying toys that lit up or made music with a simple click of a button, holding small paper plates stacked with food, bargaining prices of intricate garments, or simply conversing with their companions. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, gossip, jokes, whispers.

The exciting, fun-filled atmosphere of the place was surely popular among its customers. And, even taking one look at it all, you knew you were bound to have endless entertainment and enjoyment here, tonight.

“What do you think?” Sukuna asked, noticing you had gone quiet. His voice was barely above a whisper, saddened by the idea of you hating it. He thought you might’ve liked something like this, that’s why he picked this place. But maybe his judgment was—

“It’s—I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful, and the food smells amazing,” you smiled, looking at Sukuna.

Unbeknownst to you, the pink-haired man let out a sigh of relief upon hearing your answer.

“I used to go here all the time with Yuuji back when we were little; he loved the oyakodon. I don’t know if they still have the same one he preferred.”

“We should take a picture, babe. Make him jealous that we’re having a better dinner than him.”

Sukuna laughed, “You’re starting to sound like me. I think I’m rubbing off on you, squirt.”

“It’s only payback since he ate the last of my Häagen-Dazs. I was saving it,” you grumbled, still holding a grudge about the distant memory.

“Sure, sure.”

Sukuna snaked an arm around your waist, directing you to a red, striped stall. Smoke flying from the back of it as people fried and cooked and did whatever. “Jakoten?” he suggested.

“Obviously.”

If there was one thing you learned while being with Sukuna, it was that he was an eater. He wasn’t picky, no, quite the opposite, really. He could eat literally anything he got his hands on. Sukuna had a strict diet — being an athlete and all that — but he had his off days, where he could eat anything he pleased.

And, although you are a little less “wild” compared to him, you two often shared interest in the same dishes. Like jakoten, for example. But that’s a simple one, most people like it, so that’s not much good of an instance.

Sukuna and you waited near the front of the food stand, and when it was time and your order came out, Sukuna helped put a cupped hand under your chin, catching all of the tiny crumbs in his palm.

“Good, right?”

Your reply came muffled, as you chewed on the fried fish paste. “Mhm.”

“Where do you want to go next?” Jakoten was delicious, Sukuna couldn’t deny it, but you would be wrong if you thought that was enough to satisfy his hunger.

“Hm, we should go and see if they have tonkatsu. I’m kinda hungry for a main dish now.”

Together, you and Sukuna walked hand in hand around the people-filled space, seeking out different meals to try. Contrary to your main mission — finding a filling dish, you and Sukuna both had your fair share of small appetizers and sweet treats. When you two decided unanimously to find a table to sit down at and enjoy your dinner, you weren’t aware of how difficult of a journey that was.

To say the place was packed was an understatement, and most people didn’t even try to find seats, instead opting to stand and walk the whole time. After getting hundreds of steps in just to come out fruitless, you and Sukuna gave up on even the idea of sitting down.

“You know, I was thinking,” you began, while picking at the greens on your plate, “we should totally get a bowl of noodles, and recreate that scene from Lady and the Tramp.”

“We totally should not.” Sukuna shook his head, an unamused look on his face as he bit into a Japanese type of skewered chicken.

“C’mon, it’ll be cute. And, and, we would get to kiss,” you pursued.

“Is kissing you supposed to tempt me?”

“I—How dare you; you know what, don’t talk to me.” You turned away from a laughing Sukuna.

“Aw, sweetheart, I was just joking. ‘sides, who would pay for your food if you walked away from me?”

You turned back around.

Pleased with himself — having gotten your attention back, Sukuna gave a boyish smile, “That’s more like it,” before swinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling, “Don’t, ‘Kuna. You’re going to make me drop my food.”

“So cold. Your boyfriend’s giving you kisses and you tell him to stop? That’s a new low, even for you,” Sukuna feigned a hurt tone, but remained smiling all the while.

“Mm, yeah. Sulk all you want, you were the one who refused my kisses first. Don’t you dare forget.”

“You’re really never going to let that go, are you? Ah, I know, would this,” he pulled out a wad of cash, “change your mind?”

Sukuna had seen you eyeing a ramune-selling vendor ever since the both of you arrived. Of course, after being around you for so long, he was quick to learn that ramune was one of your weak spots. You were a fiend for anything sweet, after all. And the popular carbonated drink was perfect for the current weather.

Seeing your eyes widen to saucers, Sukuna knew he had won you over.

“Just, get me one, too, alright? You’re not the only thirsty person here.”

As you began to walk in the direction of the stand, Sukuna abruptly pulled you back, “Actually . . . they might have soju, so get me a cup of that instead. You know the kind I like.” And with that — and a final kiss to your cheek, Sukuna sent you off.

It didn’t take very long to acquire your drinks, as the line was pretty short seeing as most people were starting to leave the area considering the late time. On the other hand, it did take you a fairly drawn-out amount of time to find Sukuna. For he wasn’t in the same place he was before; Sukuna was now standing in a much more secluded area. And, he wasn’t alone, either.

The blond dude, who hosted that party, was standing in front of a very tense-looking Sukuna. To passersby and the naked eye, the two men might look like they were simply a pair of friends conversing. But to you, you noticed Sukuna’s clenched jaw. You noticed his arms, crossed over his chest. You noticed his eyes, usually holding a light to them, were dark, and Sukuna was glowering.

You assumed they started talking a little while after you left Sukuna to go shopping, and, as strong as your morals were, you couldn’t help but listen in to their conversation.

“—I’m surprised, I didn’t foresee a chance to meet you tonight, captain. And, another date? You’re really scoring, aren’t you? Though, I can’t say I expected less from the Ryomen.”

“Look, Zen’in, I told you — a million times, actually, I’m done playing this stupid game of yours. Grow up, or, better yet, find something else to entertain your fucked up brain.”

“Woah, didn’t mean to hit a nerve there. I was just about to ask — since we’re already here — if you wanted your cash now, or later. Wouldn’t want to intrude on your little date.” Naoya let out a low laugh, “You know, you’re really starting to drain my bank account. First kiss, two dates, and you fucked her? Man, you’ve outdone yourself.”

With each sentence that man spoke, your jaw only dropped lower and lower. Your chest tightened, and it felt unbearably suffocating to breathe. Tears threatened to spill at any second, but you still weren’t sure if Naoya was lying, and making all of this up.

God, let this be just a nightmare.

Sukuna couldn’t have. . . Sukuna wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do something like that to you, right? He wouldn’t use someone, all for a silly bet.

Heat rose to your face, as emotions bottled up inside of you. You didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Sad? Betrayed?

When the blond noticed you standing only a few feet away, and snickered, “Whoops, looks like I am interrupting something.”

Naoya flashed you a fake smile, before turning back to Sukuna, “Take care, Ryomen.” He pressed multiple hundred dollar bills onto the pink-haired man’s hand, and took his leave.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed you before Naoya said something, and when he saw your face, hurt written all over your features, his eyes softened. He tried to take a step forward, but with every step he took, you took two backwards.

“Sukuna, I—I don’t even know what to say to you,” your voice cracked, and Sukuna swore his heart shattered right then and there at the look on your face. “Is it true? — the things he said?”

It pained Sukuna, to see you hold out hope. Hope for him. Hope for your relationship. He was undeserving of such grace to be bestowed upon him, and couldn’t say anything but, “I’m sorry.”

Your expression morphed into that of confusion, and then into one of frustration and anger. You couldn’t believe Sukuna just threw away everything you two had, shared, dreamed of, all for some money and a stupid bet.

“Was nothing we had real to you? Was everything just a big ole lie you fed me so that you could see some more zeros at the end of your already large enough fortune? . . .Sukuna, answer me.”

Your voice got softer as you spoke, till it was just above a whisper. Your breathing was uneven, and came in gasps. This was all too much for you to wrap your head around.

“I trusted you, I gave you everything. You saw me vulnerable, you saw me naked, you . . . you—” You weren’t even aware when it started, but tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point, and even wiping them away with your sleeve didn’t help.

All the while, the man who brought you so much joy, and now, so much pain, could do nothing but stare back at you in silence. His eyes were empty, the light gone. The man you loved, gone. Sukuna didn’t try and defend his stupidity, he had no reason to. He was in the wrong, and was — rightfully so — being berated for his doings. Sukuna loved you, but pride was a much stronger feeling than love.

“I thought you changed, Sukuna. I thought you matured, and grew up, and learned, but . . . God, I was so wrong. You’re nothing different than the boy who tormented me in high school, aren’t you. But, I don’t understand. . . What did I do to you? What did I do for you to—to treat me like this? You willingly accepted to be paid to take me out?”

“Was I not enough for you, Ryomen? That you felt the need to be rewarded for staying with me?” Your voice was so, so soft; it sent a pang through Sukuna’s heart.

In your eyes, Sukuna now looked so different, after having learned what you did. He was really nothing but a man. A man whose pride and dignity and ego took the best, and worst, of him.

“I can’t believe I even trusted you. But, you know what, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what you think of me. It doesn’t matter what I did. Anything regarding you doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

You’re not sure what took over you at that very moment, but you do know that throwing a drink at a man does contribute to getting your emotions out. “There, you can have your soju, you can have your money, you can have whatever you want. Good bye, Ryomen. And good fucking night.”

You had no way home; Sukuna was the one who drove you two here, and you both knew that. But you didn’t care. As long as you got away from that man you would be okay. You would be okay. . .

At that very moment, after seeing you storm away from him, and into the crowds of people — who appeared shocked to see a woman with mascara running down her cheeks, — Sukuna understood the term ‘significant other’. He realized you were his other half. You completed him. But now. . . You were gone, disappeared, left — forever, if he didn’t do something about it. Sukuna wasn’t whole. Hell, he wasn’t even half. He was nothing, nothing without you.

It wasn’t like Sukuna to cry; he was a grown man. And yet, he had never felt so little.

As the days went on, Sukuna couldn’t have been more stupid as to think you would talk with him after a week’s time, and that everything would go back to normal. He wanted this to be a nightmare. But oh, how wrong he was. For days upon days upon days, you greeted him with nothing but silence.

You blocked him on all social media, you premeditated routes to avoid him on campus, you deleted his number, you did everything to erase the face of the man whom you called the love of your life from your mind. The both of you went from texting or calling each other almost every night to complete radio silence. It drove Sukuna to the brink of insanity.

“—I’m just saying, you should go tell her you’re sorry. I mean, that was a really fucked up thing to do. And, even coming from you, I’m surprised.” Yuuji popped another potato chip into his mouth as he lounged on his older brother’s sofa.

“Don’t you think I’ve done that already? She hates my guts, Yuuji, and—and I don’t blame her but. . . Right now, she thinks I’m a dickhead who just used her for money. But that’s totally not true.”

Yuuji raised a brow, as if to say, Are you sure about that? And Sukuna sighed, plopping down beside his brother.

“Okay, I’ll admit, I technically was using her, but only at the very beginning, but everything after our first phone call was real, genuine. I didn’t get into this whole bet thing to hurt her, I was just trying to prove Naoya’s bitchass wrong and maybe make his wallet lighter at the same time. . . I really, really love her, Yuu—”

“Y’know, I’m not a big fan of listening to your drama-filled life, but I’m also not very keen on hearing you be a sap.”

Sukuna, outright ignoring his brother, continued on with his speech anyway, “God, this might be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done.” He ran a hand down his face, exasperated.

“It is.”

Sukuna shot him a pointed look, and the younger boy only shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude, I’m pretty sure your girl broke things off permanently. Besides, there’s not much you can do to redeem yourself, anyway. Betting on a relationship is a pretty shitty move.”

“Do I look like I don’t know that?” Sukuna grumbled, stealing a handful of chips from Yuuji’s bowl.

“Well, you could’ve at least explained yourself while you had the chance, instead of just saying you’re sorry. I mean, poor girl, you faked a relationship with her and that’s all she knows.”

Sukuna — deep in thought, held his head in his hands.

“I’m sure if you tried to give an explanation she would at least hear you out. Eh, it might not even be too late to get her a bouquet or something. Whaddya know, I heard girls liked those kinds of things, when you get them their favorite flower and stuff.”

Yuuji paused, “You do know her favorite flower, right?”

“. . .”

“Man, I’m an optimistic person at heart, but this is just. . . You might be a lost cause, ‘Kuna.”

Sukuna had a lot of hope. Key word: had. As in, used to have.

Attempt no1:

They say Forget-me-nots (also referred to as Scorpion Grasses) represent true love, and respect or, at least, something of the like. But, the flower also — when gifted to someone — symbolizes that you’ll always hold them in your heart and in your thoughts and in your mind. The flower could additionally be interpreted to suggest fidelity, and being truthful, genuine, to someone you love.

Now, Sukuna knew you were smart. And he never doubted that fact, despite all of his previous teasing and joking of that. But he had never wished for someone to have knowledge about the meanings of flowers more than he has at this very moment.

It’s funny, one can laugh, but it’s true that Sukuna spent countless hours researching different flowers and their archaic all the way to their modern meanings just so he could prove maybe he wasn’t that much of a dick, after all.

But maybe, he should’ve put a little more effort into the planning of his execution rather than the organizing part of it.

Sukuna knew you were avoiding him, even going as far as changing your daily routes to classes even if it meant walking farther distances. He was more impressed than offended at how dedicated you were to the whole “Never-Seeing-His-Face-Again” bit.

There really wasn’t much he could do to be able to see you in person, since you blocked all contact with him, but . . . Sukuna did happen to think of one way he could meet up with you.

While he may not have been the best boyfriend, Sukuna was still . . . decent, sorta, if you put aside the whole bet crisis. And, even if he couldn’t remember the purpose of your Student Council meetings, he did remember the directions to where your briefings took place. Call him a stalker or serial killer or whatever, it doesn’t change the fact he drove you to and from those damned meetings.

Pacing to and fro outside of a library was already strange enough; being covered in tattoos and having pink hair did not help with the amount of stares Sukuna received, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Sukuna gripped the bouquet of Forget-me-nots — and other flowers, but it was mainly filled with Forget-me-nots, like his life depended on it.

He went over his speech — that he had previously practiced with Yuuji the night before — over a hundred times in his head. But when he suddenly heard you call out his name out of confusion, all that he managed out was a plethora of garbled “I’m sorry’s” and “Please’s.”

“Sukuna? What—what are you doing here?” you asked, bewilderment written all over your features as your eyes wandered down to the enormous bouquet in his hands. Being greeted by your ex-boyfriend right after finishing a meeting was not on today’s Bingo card for you.

“I—I know the other night was . . . a mess,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “but I didn’t get to explain myself and—”

“No, it’s okay, you have nothing to explain. Everything was a lie; everything you said was a lie; everything we did was a lie. See? I get it; no need for your clarification.” You shook your head, and began walking down the street to your next destination.

Even after knowing Sukuna for so long, you were a fool for thinking you could “outwalk” him. The male had no intention of letting you leave without you hearing him out first, and he was able to catch up to you within just a few strides.

“Can you just let me talk? For a second?”

You quickened your pace, trying your hardest to get him off your tail, but he just wouldn’t budge. Doesn’t this count as harassment?

“There’s nothing for you to say, Sukuna; I’m not wasting my time with you on this.”

Sukuna murmured your name, “Please, there’s more to the story than you think. I didn’t accept the bet to hurt you, I. . .” His voice trailed off as he wondered what to do next, but he suddenly remembered the bouquet and shoved it into your arms.

“What is this?” Your face morphed into one of incertitude, your voice softening as you examined the bouquet, but still, your pace never slowed.

“Special flowers, for a special girl.”

You rolled your eyes, again, quickening your pace; you were now speed walking while holding a comically large bouquet. Sukuna was finally not the only one being stared at, though he didn’t revel much in that fact.

“Don’t say that. You know we’re not together anymore; we’re over. Are you ever going to get that through your skull?” You finally stopped in your tracks, and turned to look at Sukuna — half because you were out of breath from walking so fast and half because you wanted to see the expression on his face.

“We don’t have to be; c’mon, I want to make things right—”

“Sukuna! I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” A high pitched voice called out, out of the blue.

You both turned your heads to see who it came from.

“You never texted me after I gave you my number last week. Don’t tell me you’re shy; there’s nothing scary about this girl,” the short brunette giggled.

In truth, Sukuna had no idea who this was. Probably just some rando who hit on him after seeing him play basketball.

“Lady, I don’t even remember your name—”

But the girl had already caught up with Sukuna and looped her arm around his, acting all friendly and whatnot. Sukuna looked at you for help, but you merely scoffed, amused with the sight, “You shouldn’t have to make things right in the first place. You chose this, don’t you remember?”

Exhaling, you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Nobs, I think I might take a break from the dating scene, for a while. I mean, I’ve only recently begun to be able to look at Sukuna’s face without breaking down in tears.” While you tried to appear better off, your voice gave it all away. You weren’t completely over him yet.

“But, you’re hot; you’re young. This could be the perfect opportunity for you to make Sukuna regret losing you.” Nobara tried her hardest to get you to go to this party with her; she knew about your recent breakup, of course, but she was apparently too scared to go on her own, since Maki was unavailable.

“If Sukuna’s going that just gives me all the more reason to not go,” you stopped shoving ice cream in your mouth for a second to really get your point across.

Nobara sprawled across your bedroom floor, miserable, but not as miserable as you. She started thinking about not going to the party after all, but she had been looking forward to it all week! Ugh, going alone is the most “Loser thing” ever.

You paused your eating, and thought to yourself, If Sukuna’s really desperate to explain to me and apologize, he must be in his feelings, so he probably won’t go to the party.

“Ah, you know what, maybe I can go to that party, after all—”

“Really? Oh, my God! Yes!” Nobara immediately jumped up from the floor and threw her arms around you, trapping you in a hug.

“I’m still stuck on why you’re so happy. I seriously do not get what’s so great about this party.”

“Everything, duh.”

“Whose house is this, again?” you asked, once you and Nobara pulled up at the address you put into the GPS.

“Uh, dunno. I’m pretty sure Yuuji does, though; he got me the invite.”

At the mention of his name, your mind immediately went to his brother. Which was your first mistake, since tonight was supposed to be fun, and help you forget about everything that went down.

“Oh, so they’re in the same year as us, then?”

“Mm, probably. C’mon, what are you stalling for, let’s party!” Nobara dragged you out of the car and continued dragging you until you both arrived in front of the door.

Upon entering, you noticed the house was . . . nice — definitely not a mansion, unlike someone else’s, but it was the size of a typical “party house”. It looked sorta old, but it wasn’t rundown, so maybe people just used it a lot for large gatherings like this.

Did you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven? No. Were your protests overlooked? Of course. Did you sit down in the circle? Yes. Yes, you did. This was now your second time playing the game, and your opinion of it hadn’t changed at all. Being surrounded by drunk or high college kids instantly soured your mood, and you almost regretted agreeing to join Nobara.

A brunette girl, whom you recognized as the girl from yesterday, spun the bottle first, and the game commenced. What’s different about this house is that it has multiple closets, so the game progressed pretty quickly, with several couples being in their respective closets at once.

When it came down to your turn, you spun the bottle, though, not without some hesitancy, at first.

1 . . .

2 . . .

3 . . .

The empty bottle went around the circle three times before it landed on . . . Sukuna? What the fuck? You hadn’t even noticed he was here. This happened last time, too. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this game? Is it cursed or something? God.

There was visible and audible shock amongst the crowd.

“Didn’t this happen at Naoya’s party?”

“Yeah, it did!”

“That’s crazy.”

“Look, I know this might not be the best situation to say this but—”

Despite your misgivings about doing so, you went in the closet with Sukuna anyway. And after locking the door behind him, Sukuna turned to you with a desperate look on his face.

Attempt no2:

“I’m giving you seven minutes, because that’s all the time we have in here anyway and also because I’m bored and curious as to what you think is a valid apology.”

“Okay, that’s—that’s enough for me. . . I know — that from the moment we met, it started off bad. Beyond bad. Horrible, even. But I want to make things right between us. Because, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And, I fucked things up. I followed through with Naoya’s bet when I was drunk and out of my mind. I should’ve ended it the next day but I didn’t; I wanted to prove to Naoya I could take you out. Because . . . I’ve liked you for a long time, probably since high school, even. And I know I never expressed that in a good way, but that’s only because I never realized it myself. So, seeing him just dangle the money in front of me, I just—I just thought of the money as a nice ‘incentive’ or something.”

“That’s a weird thing to think.”

“Yeah, I know. And I was stupid to think that that justified what I was doing. But, everything after our first phone call was real, I swear. Nothing we did together was fake or me just using you to get money. But, I won’t deny that that doesn’t change the fact I was an asshole—”

“You are an asshole.”

“Okay, that I will admit. Yes, I’m an asshole. But, I’m sorry. I’m a sorry asshole. Heh.”

“Did you just laugh at your own joke?”

“I—uh—” Sukuna took in a deep breath, “I know you could have as many me’s in your life, and hate them all the same. But I’ll only ever have one you. And that’s all I need. So please, I won’t ask for you to take me back; I don’t deserve that, but please, I just want you to hear me out.

“You can punch me, kick me, block my number and delete it, but please, don’t ignore what I’m saying to you right now. Know that I’m sorry — though sorry doesn’t quite cut it, but please know. Know that I love you. Know that I’m completely devoted to you. Know that I will kiss the ground with which you walk upon. Know that I love you, for fuck’s sake, and will wait for you to accept that — you don’t have to love me too, just accept that I love you. Please, know.”

Sukuna’s voice was soft as he spoke with such earnestness you almost wanted to feel guilty. You knew what he did was unforgivable. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if you wanted to just forget all that had happened and go back to how things used to be between you two.

You would be a terrible liar to say you hadn’t missed Sukuna, and although he was a stupid asshole, his words proved he did nothing with ill intention. He agreed to the bet because that was the extra push he needed to be able to ask you out. He couldn’t have done it by himself, out of fear or anxiety or whatever. It was an impossible thought — the idea of Ryomen Sukuna being scared of rejection, but nobody was superhuman. Everyone has emotions.

Speaking of which, maybe it was an emotional choice to take a step forward. Maybe it was an illogical choice to finally meet Sukuna’s eyes since you two entered the closet. Maybe it was an impulsive choice to wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug, with your head resting on his chest. But, either way, you felt it was the right choice.

At first, Sukuna was tense, surprised at the sudden embrace. But, he remembered it was one he longed for, ever since that fateful night, and it didn’t take long for him to return the hug, wrapping his arms around your torso.

Through silent, unspoken words only the both of you shared and understood, you two basked in the moment of finally getting your love back. Sukuna had more words to say than he could speak. You had more feelings to share than you could show. The time you two spent apart was excruciatingly and regretfully (on your part) long.

On both sides there was an absence of something fundamental; whatever you two built while together was gone. But now? There’s not much to be said except for the light returning to those crimson eyes that you so loved.

It’s enigmatic; you don’t know what possessed you to speak up — your voice muffled due to burying your face in Sukuna’s chest. But you knew it was partially because of how long you spent bottling up your emotions: anger, sadness, regret, longing. All for one man, and one man only.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your stupid brain, that managed to apologize whilst using math as metaphors. I hate your dumb smile, which still stuns me even after everything. I hate your annoying voice, which is the only thing I can fall asleep to. I hate your hair, which stands out in every crowd I enter to avoid you.

“I hate your motorcycle, which even the rational part of my mind still imagines hearing the engine of. I hate your hands, which I undeniably long to feel in my hair. I hate your way of talking to me, which I can never get bored of, no matter how hard I try. I hate when you lie your way out of the littlest of things. I hate when you’re not around, and I have no one to tell me jokes that don’t even make sense. I hate that you think you can just win me over because you got me flowers knowing they have a specific meaning.

“I hate that I hate you. I hate that I still love you.”

Hearing you sob your heart out while laying everything bare for him, Sukuna couldn’t help but place a kiss on your crown, burying his nose in your hair. After all, Sukuna had a feeling you were just listing parts of him you loved. But either way, he didn’t mind. This was simply the start of everything reverting back to normal, something both you and Sukuna longed for. And, —

In the end,

Sukuna didn’t want anything. He wanted everything. He wanted you. (you were his everything.)

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒

A/N: Thanks for all the love and support I’ve received on this series!!, it was definitely a pain to finish and every one of your comments and reblogs and likes definitely helped me get through writing this <3

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lordbrainsnatcherr @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura @xiraxdl @sterzin @catobsessedlady @alwaysfreakingout @uhnanix @ssetsuka @wrldtups @lovra974 @rzcnlb @piercddprincess @satoru2716 @bananaminn @tomiokasecretlover @bigraga-sk @villainsevilandhot @5seos

#its COMPLETE finally #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen x reader

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ashwhowrites · 1 year ago

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An idea that popped in my head before bed. I hope you guys enjoy it! Been a bit since I've written my own Robin idea so I hope it's worth the read 🫶🏻🩷

Robin writes a love note for Vickie but accidentally puts it in Readers locker

Wrong locker

Robin has been trying to figure out the best way to confess her feelings to Vickie. Robin figured since she couldn't even speak a word to the pretty redhead in general, writing down her feelings would be best. But Robin didn't want to sound like a crazy stalker so she settled for a simple love note.

Robin took a deep breath as she walked to Vickie's locker, she slipped the pink paper in the small cracks. She held her breath as the note dropped in. The sound of the bell had her racing to the other side of the hallway. She tried to look busy but kept her eye on the locker.

She smiled as Vickie walked up, but her stomach dropped when she noticed Vickie was opening the locker next to the one with the note. Robin panicked, whose locker was the note in?

Fear filled Robin's bones as Y/N walked up. The girl's atmosphere was terrifying. Her leather jacket smelled of cigarettes and perfume. Her healed black boots echoed down the halls. Her tight jeans framed her body along with her tight band T-shirt. She was intimating, and she liked to be. Her sharp eyes glared at anyone who looked at her. A snarl on her lips if anyone bothered to talk near her.

Robin felt like she wanted to die when Y/N opened her locker, the pink note falling to Y/N's feet. Robin prayed she wouldn't pick it up, maybe stomp on it and move on.

But no, Y/N picked up the note. Robin was stuck in her spot, she needed to run but she couldn't move.

Y/N tried to keep the smile off her face. No one has seen her smile and that wasn't going to change. But she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the sweet note. She knew she was intimidating and scared people off. But she's never had someone see her in such a romantic way.

She knew of Robin Buckley, the cute bandgirl. Y/N played on the volleyball team and the band always played at their games. Was Robin watching her the whole time?

Y/N put the note in her pocket, closing her locker. She turned around to walk to class when she spotted Robin staring. Once they made eye contact, Robin looked down at her shoes.

Please don't walk up to me

Please please please

"Hey Buckley," Y/N's voice ran shivers up Robin's spine. She gulped and looked up. Y/N stood in front of her, her confident frame stood tall.

"I'm sorry! The note was-" Robin went to explain what happened but Y/N cut her off.

"The note was very sweet. Thank you, it made my day. I'll call you." Y/N said, a smirk on her face as she took in Robin's nervous frame.

Robin didn't dare to breath until Y/N strutted off.

~~~

"And turns out it was the wrong locker!" Robin explained, her voice wavering between pitches. Her nervous hands were shaking as she told the story to Steve.

Steve nodded along with his arms crossed. Robin tended to talk throughout their shifts and not do any work. So Steve picked up the slack. But the place was dead so gossip time took full attention.

"Whose did it end up in?" Steve asked, he uncrossed his arms as he reached to grab his drink.

"Y/N."

Steve's eyes went wide and his water flew out of his mouth. Steve was a grade above Y/N throughout high school, and even he was terrified of her. He prayed he'd never run into her after graduation. Her sneer and hard eyes kept him up at night. He still has nightmares about the day he ran into her, his hot coffee staining her shirt. Steve could almost feel the bruises on his cheek forming again.

"You're fucked!" Steve said.

"Dingus! Don't you think I know that? She said she was going to call me! What the hell do I do?" Robin panicked.

"Maybe she won't call you! Let's not stress about anything yet." Steve said

~~~

Robin sighed in relief when she crawled into bed, not a single phone call from Y/N. Maybe Y/N just wanted to make Robin nervous and never planned to do anything about the note.

Ring

Robin gulped as she picked up the phone, she hoped more than anything that Steve was calling about his lame date.

"Sorry, gorgeous. Volleyball went very late." Y/N's voice traveled through the phone, and it still made Robin nervous.

"It's okay." Robin gulped, her fingers playing with the telephone cord.

"I know this place downtown, maybe Friday night after the game, we can go?"

Robin tried to say no, all she had to do was explain the mix-up. But she was scared of Y/N's reaction. One date couldn't hurt, maybe Y/N would realize how boring Robin was and wouldn't be interested.

~~~

Robin packed up her instrument, talking with Vickie about the game. Robin tried her best to keep the conversation going.

"Ready gorgeous?" Y/N asked. Robin couldn't help but blush at the nickname being said to her face. Y/N was sweaty and panting from the game, and Robin couldn't help but find it hot.

"Yeah just gotta pack up." Robin rushed out, her eyes meeting Y/N's for one quick second.

"Okay. I'm going to change then I'll meet you in the parking lot?" Y/N suggested. Robin nodded and felt the air return to her lungs when she walked away.

"What's going on?" Vickie asked, she didn't bother to hide how shocked she was.

"She kinda asked me out." Robin shrugged.

"Oh, cool," Vickie said, but Robin couldn't help but notice how displeased Vickie looked about the news. Was she jealous?

~~~

Robin tried not to stare at Y/N as they walked into the bar, but Y/N looked hot in her tight black jeans, tank top, and signature leather jacket. Robin tried to ignore how sweaty her palms were.

Robin was confused about why they'd go to a bar when they weren't of age, but Y/N knew the bartender it seemed. Y/N walked to the back booth, near a pool table.

Y/N had a beer and Robin had an iced tea. Y/N made good conversation and Robin was surprised by the things they had in common. Robin found herself enjoying Y/N's presence.

A few hours passed and Robin swung her feet as Y/N played pool. Robin didn't know how to play and she did not want to look like an idiot in front of Y/N.

"Come here and just try!" Y/N encouraged, she's been trying to get Robin to play for the last hour. But Robin kept shaking her head.

Y/N gave up on convincing Robin, instead, she'd make Robin do it.

Robin gulped as Y/N grabbed her hand and lifted her off the stool.

"No, I'm not any good!" Robin tried but Y/N shushed her. Y/N placed the stick in Robin's hand, stood behind her, and corrected her form. Robin couldn't help but feel slightly turned on as Y/N's body was pressed against her back. The feeling of Y/N's breath against her ear, and Y/N's arms wrapped around her, made Robin feel fuzzy.

Robin took a deep breath, letting Y/N guide her to hit the small white ball. Robin watched as the stick hit the ball, it rolled and rolled until it smacked into a red ball, disappearing into the corner.

"You did it!" Y/N cheered, Robin couldn't help but get lost in her dazzling smile. At that moment Y/N didn't seem so scary and intimidating. She looked beautiful and happy.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Robin cursed herself for leading Y/N on. Robin couldn't help but be swept up in all the dates and how special Y/N made her feel. It made Robin wonder why she never looked at Y/N in the first place.

But Robin was tugged between Vickie as well. The girl the note was made for. It seemed Vickie was jealous of all the dates between Robin and Y/N. Robin remembered the hard look in Vickie's eyes when she showed up in Y/N's jacket.

"Are you cold?" Y/N asked, her hand laced with Robin's as they walked through the carnival. Robin wore a thin long sleeve, not expecting the wind to be chilly.

"No, I'm fine!" Robin argued, but the shivering of her teeth and tight shoulders gave her up.

Y/N smiled and took off her jacket, placing the warm leather over Robin's shoulders. Immediately lacing their hands together again.

A jacket Robin still hasn't given back. She wore it every day to school. To make Vickie jealous? Or to have pride she got Y/N to go soft? She wasn't sure.

She felt torn between both girls.

~~~

"Do you like her?" Steve asked, he felt bad for the situation Robin got herself in.

"I think so? But I don't know if I like her because she makes Vickie jealous." Robin explained. She was stuck in her personal hell.

"Well if Vickie's jealous, it means she has feelings for you. So you have your answer. Vickie is interested and single. Do you want to go after her? Or stay with Y/N?"

"I think I want Vickie. I mean the note was meant for her but I'm afraid if Y/N finds out the note was for Vickie, she'll snap me in half " Or maybe she was worried it would snap Y/N in half.

~~~

Robin sat across Y/N as she sipped on a milkshake. Robin's stomach hurt too much to enjoy the sweetness.

"Are you okay? You look like you might be sick." Y/N said, her milkshake pushed to the side as she reached across for Robin's hand. Robin gulped as Y/N's soft thumb rubbed her skin.

Just say it, Robin repeated in her head. She needed to tell the truth before Y/N truly fell for Robin.

"I need to tell you something," Robin said, her free hand gripping the leather jacket by her lap. Y/N encouraged her with a small smile.

"Remember the note?"

"Of course I do." Y/N smiled

"I put it in the wrong locker," Robin said quickly, wincing as the words finally were put into the air.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, her head turned as she tried to understand.

"I wrote the note for Vickie and I was scared to tell you. " Robin looked up to catch Y/N's reaction. The smile turned upside down as a frown covered its place. Robin has never seen so much emotion on Y/N's face. And just like she feared, the terrifying hard mask appeared on Y/N's face.

Robin tried not to flinch as Y/N removed her hand and moved it quickly into her lap. Robin's palm smacked the table. As always, Robin ran her mouth until she made it worse.

"And I just didn't want to hurt you! And I was a little scared you'd break me in half. So I went along with the date, not expecting you'd like me! Because like I'm me and I'm so boring compared to you. I figured you'd see dating me was blah and wouldn't be interested. But then you asked for more dates and I was-"

"Scared to say no, yeah got it." Y/N barked. She was an idiot to believe someone saw her as something else than a scary monster that lurked in the halls. All this time, she thought Robin saw something in her, something worth liking and learning to love. But no, Robin was scared just like everyone else.

Y/N refused to let how upset she was shown on her face. She shook it off and grabbed her wallet. She slammed down some bills on the table, the harsh air hitting Robin's hand, she flinched again.

Robin was scared to look up as Y/N stood up. She was too scared to see the look on Y/N's face.

"Look at me," Y/N growled, Robin swallowed nervously and looked up. But there was a softness in Y/N's eyes.

"You're not boring, and you're not blah. You're funny, fun, and beautiful. Don't think so low of yourself. Next time, make sure the note goes in the right locker. I'll see you around Buckley."

Robin didn't know what to say. Y/N walked off, leaving her jacket with Robin.

~~~

Robin barely slept that night. She felt so guilty, and not all relieved. She thought telling Y/N would take the weight off her shoulders, but it was the opposite. The weight on her shoulders now crushed down on her chest.

Y/N's jacket thrown over Robin's desk chair was a painful reminder she had to see Y/N again.

The next morning, Robin held the jacket in her arms as she walked up to Y/N's locker.

"Um hey," Robin said quietly, Y/N and Vickie looked up at the sound of her voice. Robin shrunk under the gaze of both girls.

Y/N figured she was talking to Vickie so she turned back around to her locker.

Robin couldn't help but feel like she was slapped in the face as Y/N ignored her completely.

"I have your jacket." She said, tapping Y/N's shoulder. Y/N turned around, grabbed the jacket, and slipped it back on her body. In a way Robin felt a weird feeling of pride. She knew it was Y/N's jacket in the first place, but Robin wore it for weeks to where it almost felt like hers. It felt like Y/N was wearing Robin's jacket.

"Thanks," Y/N muttered the locker behind her slammed shut as she quickly walked off. Y/N couldn't watch Robin and Vickie talk about their feelings.

"Yikes, she's back to cold." Vickie observed.

"Yeah I kinda broke things off," Robin explained, a feeling in her stomach as Vickie tried to fight off a smile.

"Oh that's too bad!" Vickie said, but Robin could hear the excitement in her voice. "What happened?"

"I wrote this note to ask you out and I accidentally put it in her locker. I've been too scared to tell her but I finally did. And I think she hates me." Robin said, looking over her shoulder but Y/N was long gone.

"Ask me out?" Vickie asked, a smile on her face.

"Yeah," Robin said with a smile. Her face warmed when Vickie reached forward to lace their hands together. Robin couldn't help but notice Vickie's grip wasn't as tight and safe as Y/N's. Robin didn't feel like she was protected like the way she did in Y/N's hands.

"I'd love to!" Vickie cheered, both girls sharing a bright smile.

But Robin couldn't help but feel an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

~~~

It didn't take long for Robin and Vickie to officially be together. Steve was proud of Robin for finally making a choice, but even he couldn't help but feel like it was the wrong one.

Robin spent every minute with Vickie, searching for the fluttering in her stomach that she had with Y/N. Robin thought it was fear but maybe it was excitement.

Robin tried to fight off the frown on her face when Y/N passed her in the halls. No more warm smile sent her way. Just a hard look, the same look she gave everyone else.

Was Vickie the right choice?

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x female reader #robin Buckley fluff #robin buckley angst x female reader #robin buckley angst #robin buckley fluff x female reader #ashwhowrites #robin buckley fic

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lynnuvo · 5 months ago

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Richy Rich Gets a Girl

(Based on the idea of Monoma Neito being from a wealthy family)

Before Dating

(Y/N), while they're shopping at the mall: This is a cute jacket. I don't have enough money on me right now, though. Monoma: If you want, I can buy it for you right now and you can pay me back later. (Y/N): Is that really okay? Monoma: Don't worry. I insist on helping the poor.

(Y/N): I'm not that poor.

While Dating

(Y/N), while they're shopping at the mall: This is a cute jacket. I don't have enough money on me right, though. Monoma, already putting it in their cart: All yours.

(Y/N): It's fine, really! I can find a jacket more in my budget.

Monoma: Too bad. Now, what else do you want?

(Y/N): I'm not telling you if you're going to be buying everything I want.

Monoma: It's either that or I buy everything your eyes linger on. It'd be better you voice which you actually want, right dear? (Y/N), looking around frantically: Jerk! And don't call me that in public! It's embarrassing...

6 Months into Dating

Monoma, while on a call with (Y/N): How is Christmas break at home going for you?

(Y/N): Great! I just finished decorating the house with my parents. After being in the dorm for so long, I missed my actual home. How about--? Monoma: Ah. It's here. I'm sorry to interrupt, love, but can you check outside your door for me? (Y/N): Uh--sure. One sec. Monoma, what is this bulky package? Did you have something delivered to my house? Monoma: I sure did. I saw some clothes online and thought you would look good in them, so I went ahead and shipped it to you. (Y/N): Monoma! Thank you, but I gave you my address to pick me up on dates, not ship me things! (Sigh) You're lucky I love you, hon.

Monoma: I love you too. I finally understand what you girls mean when you say you love dressing people up. Check outside your door again this evening. The second package should arrive then. (Y/N): Second one?! Monoma: Don't worry. This one's shoes!

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stevieschrodinger · 2 months ago

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Part One TwentyThree

This Chapter is NSFW

Steve blinks awake; something woke him, some movement. Eddie. Eddie’s half flopped across Steve’s back where Steve’s laid on his stomach. He’s kissing his way across Steve’s shoulders, “twen-ty two,” he whispers haltingly to himself, then another soft kiss, “twe-n-ty three.”

Steve stretches, his shoulders still aching from finishing the pool yesterday. Eddie had helped a little, mostly holding the hose and washing down the sides. Even with Jon as an extra pair of hands it had still taken hours. Steve shifts, dislodging Eddie a little, “what you doing baby?”

“Winning.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “how do you mean?”

“Eddidie try more kisses,” he kisses Steve again, “twen-ty four.”

Steve rolls over, “I didn’t realize giving kisses was a competition.”

Eddie darts forward, kissing Steve on the cheek this time, but Steve manages to grab him and get him back, making Eddie giggle, “Eddidie twen-ty five. Stee One.”

“Oh you come here you cheater, I’m gonna’ win.”

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone. Keith is a prick, and he’s always going to be a prick, who even works at nine in the morning on New Years day? Steve is certain that the store actually closes for New Years day and Keith has invented that shift just to torture Steve.

And he’s on the close on New Years eve which just...sucks. He sighs again. At least that one is with Robin. It’s like he wants to punish both of them.

“Okay Stee love?”

“I’m okay, but I’ve got to go back to work in a couple of days.”

Eddie frowns, “Eddidie work?”

“I...yeah. Maybe. When you’re ready yeah?”

Eddie looks a little sad, but he agrees, “Stee work time calendar?” Eddie goes off and gets a pen before Steve answers, and then waits, watching as Steve writes the shift times he has so far in the boxes on Eddie’s calendar.

Eddie squints at it, “called am p-m?” He says A M like the word, ‘am,’ and Steve knows he really needs to get onto those books Eddie got for Christmas.

“A.M is in the morning, and P.M is the afternoon. The night time.”

“Nine morning, nine night time?” Eddie asks, pointing.

“You got it baby…what do you want to do today?”

Eddie perks up immediately, “drive car?”

“I...yeah. You know what, fuck it, what’s Hopper going to do, arrest us?”

“Fuck it!” Eddie crows back, a massive grin on his face.

“Huh...I don’t know if I should tell you off or not. It feels like I should but that also feels dumb.”

“Feels dumb. Called arrest?”

“Oh it’s…so if Hopper finds someone who does something bad, he locks them away to keep everyone else safe?”

“Someone who...hurts people?” Eddie volunteers cautiously while they get their shoes on.

“Yeah. Yeah like that. It keeps everyone else safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, get your jacket.”

The ruins of Starcourt are pretty comprehensively taped and fenced off...but half the lot isn’t. Eddie eyes the ruin speculatively, “Eddidie in before?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s where you were when I found you.”

Eddie frowns, leaning over to touch Steve’s face delicately, around his eyes, the bridge of his nose,“Stee hurt.”

“I was, but that was ages ago now. I’m fine.”

Eddie accepts that, so Steve sits and explains to him what all the parts of the car do, how to put it in drive, and back into park, and then lets Eddie do it from the passenger seat. Then puts the seat all the way back, letting Eddie lean over to watch his feet, he shows him how to go and how to stop. He doesn’t bother with stuff like indicators yet, not wanting to over complicate things.

Eddie seems alright with all of it, and Steve figures he does trust Eddie; Eddie does pick shit up really really fast.

They swap seats, “okay, so, what do we do first?” Eddie reaches for the key where it hangs in the ignition, “ah ah,” Steve chides. “What’s first?”

Eddie thinks for a second before sheepishly clicking his belt on; Steve does the same, “now?”

“Sure baby, you can go now.”

Eddie starts the car, grinning big as it starts up. Steve watches as Eddie does the brake and carefully puts it in drive, “good?”

“Yeah, go on then, carefully though. Slow.”

“Carefully, slow.”

And Eddie does, the car inches forward, then picks up a little speed. Eddie’s leaning all the way forward in his seat, chest practically pressed against the wheel, both hands studiously at ten and two. They're probably doing all of a brisk walking speed, maybe a jog, but Eddie’s got a massive happy grin on his face. “Okay, turn then,” Eddie does, making random loops across the lot and then back again. “Okay, stop.” Eddie does, carefully shifting his feet. It jolts a little when they come to a full stop, Eddie pressing too sharply.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, put her in park.” Eddie does, “okay, good, go on then, go again.”

Eddie does, and they do go a little faster, Eddie slowly gaining confidence.

They stop a few times, Steve explaining about the mirrors and then sets Eddie the challenge of parking the car up between the white lines in the empty spaces.

They go until Eddie’s stomach rumbles audibly, Steve completely having lost track of time, “okay, time to go home.”

Eddie nods agreeably, “home.”

They’re laid on the couch together, Eddie’s holding open one of the kids books he got for Christmas, sounding out the letters and making out the words. He never ceases to amaze Steve with just how fast he picks this stuff up.

Steve helps occasionally, but Eddie seems to be able to, mostly, intuit how the words should sound by working through the letters. He keeps digging Steve with his elbow though, when he shifts to itch his stomach, keeps wriggling around, and it only seems to be getting worse.

“What are you scratching at?” Eddie puts the book down, pulling his shirt up so they can both see; part of Eddie’s stomach looks like it’s peeling, like bad sunburn. It only seems to have been made worse by Eddie’s itching, the skin pink and lined.

Steve hums, “lets go put some cream on that.”

Investigation only revels more patches of dry flaking skin, randomly all over Eddie’s body. Steve was there when Eddie got dressed this morning, so he’s one hundred percent certain that these weren’t here then. The more he looks the more he finds, they’re up Eddie’s back, and under Eddie’s bobble hat looks like the worse case of dandruff Steve’s ever seen.

“I hope you’re not allergic to something.”

“Called allergic?”

“It’s- I. I don’t even know how to explain this,” Steve sighs, “sometimes people...something doesn’t agree with them?” Eddie tilts his head, scratching absently at his thigh, Steve gently pulls his hand away, “don’t itch it. Okay...for some people, just very few, laundry powder makes their skin itchy. For no reason, it just...happens. Or some food. Maybe just one person can’t eat nuts, it’ll make them hurt.”

Eddie frowns, but nods, using his free hand to scratch at his back, so Steve grabs that hand, too.

“We should call Joyce, she might know what to do with the itching.” The cream doesn’t seem to be helping, it’s just making Eddie itchy and greasy at the same time.

“Call Joyce yes.”

“Hello?”

“Oh, hey, Will. Is Joyce home?”

“Sure yeah, just a minute. Can we come over to the store tomorrow? Mike said Nancy said Robin said you’re going back to work tomorrow morning?”

And Steve can hear Mike in his head, ‘and Steve’s at least good for his stupid staff discount,’ “Yeah, yeah sure-”

“Cool so we can come watch stuff tomorrow afternoon?”

“I-yeah,” Steve looks at where Eddie is using a door frame to scratch between his shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth aggressively, “yeah, maybe.”

“Cool, okay, see you tomorrow!”

There’s a moment of quiet, and then, “hello?”

“Oh, hi, Joyce. It’s, uhm...Eddie’s kind of, itchy? Like he’s suddenly peeling all over? Do you know what we could do?”

“Oh...well when the boys had had chicken pox I put them in the bath with some baking soda, that helped?”

“Okay, okay yeah, I’ll give that a go, I just don’t know why this is happening.”

“It does kind of make sense, new born babies peel.”

“They do?” Steve asks, slightly horrified.

“Yeah, yeah, usually happens sort of within the first week, I think. What was his first poop like?”

“I-” Steve stalls for a second, this conversation having just taken a really weird turn, “I don’t know, hang on,” Steve pulls the phone away from his ear, “Eddie?”

Eddie comes over, “Joyce says the peeling is normal, we can go have a bath in a minute, it might make it better, okay?”

“Together?” Eddie asks, and Steve can hear Joyce snickering down the phone, clearly having heard it.

Steve just ignores that whole thing, “what was your first poop like?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “green. Sticky.”

Really? Steve thinks, green? Steve puts the phone back to his ear, “did you hear that?”

“Yeah, that makes sense Steve, it all tracks. He’s just like a newborn.”

That is...not appealing, Steve can’t help but think.

Eddie’s skin sloughs off like something out of a horror movie. Once lubricated by the warm water, made to feel slick with the baking soda, it comes away in great curling pieces. Eddie picks at himself with his claw like nails, Steve leaning over the edge and getting all the little flakes with a loofah. Steve gets to Eddie’s feet, and Eddie giggles and tries to drag his foot away when Steve gets to the arch, thrashing in surprise.

“You’re ticklish!” Steve tells him, delighted.

“Not,” Eddie insists, almost immediately.

“Alright, so you won’t mind if I-” Steve pins his ankle in the water, using his other hand to tickle Eddie’s foot.

Eddie thrashes, water going everywhere, “stop. No. Stee, Stee, stop,” he can barely get the words out he’s laughing and thrashing so much, but Steve takes mercy on him and doesn’t do it for long.

Eddie’s still laughing after, trying to catch his breath, wriggling his toes and watching in amazement. Once he’s settled down, he reaches into the water, bending a knee to reach and tickle his own foot, then frowning when nothing happens, “Stee? Not ticklish.”

“Oh,” Steve says the picture of innocence, “let me try?”

Eddie nods, watching, and then instantly fighting again, laughing, Steve’s clothes are wet with splashed water, “Stee Stee noooooo,” Eddie wails, but when Steve stops again he’s grinning, all flush and breathless.

“Ticklish,” Steve tells him.

“Stee ticklish?”

“Nope,” Steve lies confidently, there is no way in hell he’s giving Eddie that one.

“Why ticklish time Stee touch, not ticklish time Eddidie touch?”

“I...you know I don’t actually know why you can’t tickle yourself. Just one of those things, I guess,” he says, shrugging, “right I think you’re all done, most of it’s gone, right?”

“Most of it’s gone, right.”

Eddie’s still flaking the last tiny bits as he dries off, but it seems to be pretty much done; Eddie drops his towel in the hamper, and pouts when Steve makes him put his hat in there too, “it’s covered in skin, we can do laundry and you’ll have it back, okay?”

“Okay. Bed now?”

“It’s too early for bed-” Eddie comes and stands in front of Steve, completely naked, pressing himself forward, holding Steve’s hips, “ohhhhh...bed now. Sure, yep, we can do that.”

Eddie grins, peeling Steve’s damp shirt up, Steve lifting his arms to help. Eddie drops it carelessly on the floor, going next for Steve's pants, pulling everything down in one go and letting it drop so that Steve can step out of it and kick it away. Steve takes Eddie by the hips and walks him back towards the bed.

Eddie goes easily, shuffling his way back, Steve crawling on after him to climb between Eddie’s parted legs, keeping his weight off Eddie and on his forearms, leaning down for more hungry kisses.

Steve feels it when Eddie’s dick slips out, the head nuzzling against Steve’s pubic hair as Steve’s own cock starts to firm up, to fill out. Eddie’s dick isn’t as intimidating now Steve knows it can’t bite him, those little nobbles are too small to do anything, and even when it was holding on as tight as it could to Steve’s thumb, during Eddie’s orgasm, it didn’t hurt at all.

Steve reaches down to adjust himself, pulling his hardening cock up to lie against the crease of Eddie’s hip, rather than being trapped pointing down. Eddie’s cock follows Steve’s fingers immediately, and Steve stops a second to pet it, stroking along the length before he goes back to resting on both arms, leaning in for more kisses.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, parting his legs naturally to accommodate Steve as he settles in, Eddie drawing his knees up a little. The position is close enough that it makes Steve think...makes him remember a thought he'd had from the first time, “can we try something?”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie replies easily.

“Okay, but I need to make you come first, alright?” Eddie nods, clearly very happy with that plan.

Steve hums, thinking. Eddie’s never had sex with anyone else; Eddie is, also, a creature from The Upside Down. Eddie bit Steve’s toes off and it never got infected, and they’ve also kissed and touched a lot and Steve’s never gotten sick, never shown any sign of catching anything. There doesn’t seem to be any possibility that Eddie might be a...carrier, of some sort of disease but...on the balance of probability, Steve figures better safe than sorry. Steve’s been with plenty of girls, but he’s always used protection, so he’s pretty sure that he’s clean but...what if he isn't, and he inadvertently gives something to Eddie? Steve has no idea what Eddie’s immune system might be like and...yeah. Eddie definitely can’t make an informed choice around all this, at least, not yet. So.

He leans over, shifting off Eddie a little to rummage in the top drawer, his fingers fiddling in the box until he manages to pull out a condom.

He leaves the wrapper there on the bed, in easy reach.

“Called?”

“Oh, it’s a condom. I’ll show you what it’s for in a bit, okay?”

Eddie nods, accepting that, before pulling Steve down for more kisses. Soft and sweet, with just a hint of Eddie’s only slightly too sharp teeth. They kiss, Steve taking his time, just enjoying the feeling of Eddie holding him. Eddie’s hands are just as curious as his mind, left to their own devices they roam every bit of Steve they can reach, flowing the dip of his spine and the curve of his ass. Groping and kneading at his shoulders, the tops of his arms. Buried in his hair, scratching gently and tugging lightly. Steve drinks it all in; can feel how much Eddie loves him, how intent every touch is. Like Eddie’s memorizing him.

Like every inch of Steve is precious.

Likewise Eddie’s cock is wriggling back and forward between them, burrowing it's way through the narrow space, the head rubbing against Steve’s hip and then nuzzling into his pubes; he feels it when the head opens, the flower petals pressing against Steve’s skin before moving on. He feels it when Eddie’s cock finds the base of his own, it seems to wriggle around it, the head pressing against one side and withdrawing, only to creep along the other. The petals open, grasping at the hard flesh at the base of Steve’s dick. He moans, rutting against the crease of Eddie’s thigh, Eddie’s dick following the movement, hanging on in a gentle clutch at Steve’s flesh.

Eddie likes it too, if the huffing, breathy little sighs he’s letting out are anything to go by, so Steve doesn’t stop. He lifts enough to look down between their bodies, and Eddie does the same. The black flower petals are a stark contrast against the skin of Steve’s cock; they’ve latched to the side, near the base, and a thick drip of precome stretches a connection between the head of Steve’s cock and the skin of Eddie’s hip.

Eddie starts wriggling, hips lifting, “Stee. Please more? Eddidie come.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve lets his hips rest against the cradle of Eddie’s again, keeping his weight on his forearms he leans in for kisses that Eddie returns eagerly, matching the movements of Steve’s hips with an enthusiastic slide of his own, Steve’s cock slippery wet now with precome, “you close to coming baby?”

Eddie frowns, head tilted back, letting Steve kiss and nip at his throat, “yes no.”

“Okay,” and Steve can’t keep doing this for that much longer, otherwise he’s going to come and that’ll be the end of his idea, “want me to touch you?”

“Yes. Touch good.”

“Okay,” Steve pulls off completely then, letting himself tilt to the side. Eddie’s dick looks like it’s stretched to the absolute limit, clearly not wanting to let go of Steve. Steve reached down, distracting it with the touch of fingers; it goes eagerly. Once Eddie’s dick has let go, Steve rolls the rest of the way to lie on his hip, the same as last time, snugged up against Eddie’s side. He takes Eddie’s eager cock in hand more naturally this time, more sure of what he’s doing.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie turns into it. He’s clearly distracted, his kisses sloppier now, wetter, half the time his mouth hanging open as he pants and moans quietly, Steve’s thumb working circles across the open head of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whimpers, “okay?”

Eddie shakes his head, frowning, “not-not coming.” He squirms, face crinkled up in frustration and, possibly, discomfort, so Steve stops but Eddie immediately says, “no. More touch,” so Steve starts up the gentle movements of his thumb. Eddie’s hips squirm more, his cock pulsing and twitching, almost bucking in Steve’s hand; he’s so close, Steve knows he is, there’s just something stopping him.

Eddie needs more, and Steve doesn’t know what to do for him; it’s not like Eddie has nipples he can play with, “baby, what do you need?”

“Rough,” Eddie says suddenly, and oh, Steve gets that, maybe his thumbs tugging a little. He sits up, leaning over same as before, letting his mouth fill with spit. He pins Eddie’s cock still, but it’s wriggling so much that only half of it lands on target, the rest spattering on the webbing between Steve’s finger and thumb.

Steve doesn’t have chance to even get his thumb back in place, that’s enough, Eddie’s hips bucking as he cries out, the loudest noise he’s made so far. The flower petals half close, then open a little, doing a weird little celebratory Mexican wave type thing as Eddie’s back arches sharply, and his right leg twitches violently.

Steve just rides it out, letting Eddie’s body lift his own as Eddie’s hips roll again and again. Eventually it passes and Eddie settles, “okay baby?”

Eddie hums, his cheeks flush and his brown eyes bright, “perfect okay.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “all done?”

Eddie nods, then sighs with contentment, “inied.”

“Good,” Steve lets his cock go, it’s almost funny how it sort of lays down, like a little drunk dude just lying right there on the floor. “Still up for trying something?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay,” Steve clambers up, sitting on his knees next to Eddie, he opens the condom and then, pinching the end, carefully rolls it down to the base of his own cock.

“Why?” Eddie asks, watching with interest now.

“Oh it...well. If you were a girl, it would stop you getting pregnant.”

“Called preg-nant?” Eddie sounds the word out slowly.

“Yeah,” Steve pats his own stomach, trying to word it how Eddie might understand, “planting a baby.”

“Eddidie baby,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, yeah I know, but I mean baby like...tadpole.”

Eddie sits up then, “tell Eddidie many many baby! Baby called tadpole! Eddidie not kid!”

Steve rubs his face, “oh man,” Steve gets Eddie by the shoulders, but he can’t help but smile, “baby is because...I love you, okay? I know you’re not a tadpole. I know you’re not a kid, okay, it’s just...someone special. Someone important. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” but Eddie doesn’t look like he’s buying it, at all. And Steve’s sitting here with a throbbingly hard dick and it’s not exactly the conversation he wants to be having right this second.

“Okay, moles? Remember how moles are little animals but moles are also this,” Steve points to his neck, Eddie nods, “two different...but it’s the same word, yeah?”

Eddie’s face lights with understanding, and Steve knows he’s won, “okay, yeah. Eddidie baby.”

“Okay...so how do you feel about me putting my dick in you?” Steve shuffles between Eddie’s legs, his hard cock pointing the way to exactly where he wants to be.

“In? Wet?” Eddie questions. He reaches down to indicate what he means, he uses two fingers, his black oval shaped nails part his glistening wet slit in what is, unintentionally, possibly one of the most erotic things Steve’s ever seen. From where he’s kneeling between Eddie’s spread thighs, he gets a good look at just how wet and pink Eddie is inside, flooded with clear, jello like come.

Steve cock twitches, remembering just how tight it was on his finger, he tries to speak and fails, needing to clear his throat, “yeah, in. Do you want to try?”

Eddie nods, lying back and bending his knees more, letting his thighs fall further apart, the mouth of the slit slick and gaping.

Steve takes a deep breath, letting himself sink forward and down, he takes his weight on one hand where he hovers over Eddie. Using his other hand to guide the head of his dick, notching it at the opening of Eddie’s body.

Eddie's hand flies to Steve’s shoulder, gripping hard, so Steve stops, his eyes dragging, with great difficulty, away from where the rounded head of his condom covered dick is just breaching Eddie, “okay?”

Eddie frowns a little, looking worried, “slowly? Carefully?”

“I-yeah, of course. Eddie we don’t have to do this-”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie insists, “Eddidie tell no.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Eddidie tell no,” he says again, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, but you’ll tell me if it does hurt?”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie tell ow.”

“Okay,” Steve looks back down to what he’s doing, allowing himself to slide forward just the most fraction of an inch.

Almost immediately Eddie says, “ow.”

Steve freezes, looking back up. “It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie says innocently.

Steve can tell Eddie’s trying, and failing, to hide a grin, “you’re such a little shit.”

Eddie does laugh then, “little shit. Okay, Steve in now. Promise okay now.”

Steve shakes his head, taking a deep breath, he sinks in. Eddie’s channel is narrow, and it grips the sides of Steve’s cock beautifully. Eddie’s come is so thick and wet it slicks the way, and Eddie is just so fucking warm inside. It’s bliss.

He’s so wet inside that when Steve bottoms out, there’s an obscenely wet squelching noise, and Steve can feel the thick gloop of it dripping out and seeping onto his balls, forced out of Eddie’s body by Steve’s cock. “How does that feel? Okay?”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it again, like he often does when he’s searching his limited vocabulary. He presses a hand to his stomach, lifting it a little to indicate being bloated or...“after Christmas food.”

“Full.”

Eddie nods, “full,” he shifts then, experimentally rolling his hips, and Steve can’t help but moan at the sucking drag of Eddie’s hole on Steve cock. “Good?”

“So good. You’re so so good for me baby, can I move?”

“Go, yes.”

Steve keeps his weight up off of Eddie, mostly because he wants to watch. When he pulls his cock back out, it’s shiny wet, clumps of Eddie’s slick clinging to the condom like slithers of jello. Steve, cautiously, slides all the way back in.

Eddie sighs, lifting one leg to rest his calf on Steve’s back, changing the angle a little so that Steve’s cock is guided now by the bottom of Eddie’s channel, he’s gripped tight on three sides, and it’s not like anything Steve’s ever felt before.

He already knows this is going to be a short show, but he’s pretty sure Eddie said he can’t come like this anyway, so hopefully he doesn’t mind. The glide is so slick Steve rocks in and out easily, his skin warming, the space between them becoming clammy. Steve can distinctly feel that crease of flesh, the pucker he’d found, dragging up and down the underside of his cock with every thrust.

Eddie holds him tight, one hand gripping Steve’s side, the other on his shoulder before it migrates into Steve’s hair when he leans down to kiss Eddie.

His balls are tight and wet with slick where they're nudging up against Eddie's body, and he’s so close already, he just needs his mouth on Eddie, needs Eddie’s tongue in his mouth when he chokes out a groan, “gonna’ come baby,” against Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie’s eyes are alert and bright, watching with interest. He makes little huffing noises when Steve goes particularly deep but otherwise he’s not showing much sign of actually getting off on this, “yes. Come in Eddidie.”

Steve does, his cock twitching as he grinds up tight to Eddie, filling the condom with sticky mess. He’s a little out of breath as he comes down, panting where his face is buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck; Eddie rubbing his back lovingly, “good Stee?”

“Yeah. Yeah so good baby, thank you.”

“Get cleaned up?”

Steve laughs a little, then forces himself to move, reaching between them to grip the condom at the base so he can pull out. Eddie makes a little chirrup of a noise when Steve’s clear of him, a little shiver running the length of his body and then he stretches luxuriously, arms above his head, wriggling his toes, a picture of contentment. All of his crotch is shiny wet, and as Steve watches his dick sort of rolls over and then slowly withdraws.

Steve pulls off the condom and ties it, Eddie watching with interest, then wrinkling his nose when he sees what’s inside, “taste bad.”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Eddie trails after Steve into the bathroom, watching as he ditches the condom in the trash, “called complaints?”

“Uhm...no one else, other people, non of them said it tastes bad.”

Steve’s got the shower going, and when he turns, Eddie’s frown is nuclear, his hands on his hips in a determined Steve pose, “other people,” he repeats icily.

“Oh boy.”

Steve sighs. He’s been back to work for, he checks the clock for about the hundredth time, nearly two hours, and he’s already had enough. He’s almost looking forward to the kids showing up. Not that it isn’t nice to finally spend some time with Robin but...he kind of misses Eddie. It’s probably like, the honey moon stage, or whatever, the first shiny new part of a relationship when all you want it them but...still.

When the phone rings, Robin calls, “I’m not getting that.”

Steve sighs, leaving his stack of returns and leaning over the counter to scrabble for the phone, “hello, Family Video, how can I help-”

“Stee love.”

“Eddie? How did you- never mind, you okay?”

“No. Eddidie ow. Hurt.”

“Okay, I’m coming home, not long.” Steve hangs up, “Robs! I just got to go home a second, that okay?”

“Oh no,” she says from where she’s rolling back and forth on the office chair, waiting for a tape to rewind, “whatever will I do in the face of this horde of customers,” there’s currently one dude in the store, “I shall never cope with-”

“Yeah yeah, back soon.”

Steve doesn’t break any traffic laws on the way home, but he probably pushes it. Eddie’s on the couch when Steve gets in, looking alert and watching for Steve, “you okay?”

“Eddidie hurt,” he says, looking sad suddenly.

“Okay, show me.”

And Eddie stalls. Just for a moment, but long enough for Steve to catch it, before he, vaguely, indicates his tummy.

Steve suddenly has an inkling as to what’s going on here, but he comes to sit next to Eddie anyway, resting a gentle hand on his tummy, “hows that.”

Eddie nods, “good. TV?”

“Oh no. If you’re sick, then no TV. We just have to sit quiet.”

“Dinner food?”

“Definitely not. No. Here, lie down.”

Eddie does, but with a frown on his face, “Stee Eddidie out in car?”

“Nope.”

Eddie’s pout has achieved spectacular levels, “why?”

“Because you’re sick.”

It seems to dawn on Eddie that he has been completely caught out in his lie. Steve watches it happen, the emotions slowly play out. Eddie looks like he’s going through the stages of grief or something.

“How did you get works number? To call me?”

“One book,” it sounds like ‘own book.’

Steve hums, “how did you know which number it was?”

Eddie points to Steve’s vest, where it clearly says ‘Family Video’ over the little breast pocket.

“You’re so fucking clever. But I have to go back to work. You’re fine, aren’t you?” Eddie pouts, “you must never tell lies.”

“Called lie?” Eddie asks, shame faced now, plucking at his sleeve.

“Not true.” Steve tugs at his vest, “this is green. True. This is blue. Lie. Eddie is fine, true. Eddie has an ow, lie. We never tell lies.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Steve bends down to kiss Eddie on the cheek, “I’ll be back around nine, okay?”

“Steve, you want anything else?”

“No thanks Joyce that was amazing. Here, let me help with dishes, you should sit.”

“No, you’re a guest-”

“Let the kid help-” Hopper starts.

“Because it gets you out of it,” Joyce huffs, but it’s fond, and she leans over and kisses Hop on the cheek.

When Steve gets back, Eddie is sitting on the couch with El, one leg pulled up, his fingers locked together over his shin, “Steve,” she says.

Eddie leans forward, a look of great concentration on his face, “Ste-eee,” he says, but it comes out wobbling and uncertain.

“No, it’s got a ‘v’ in it,” and she makes the ‘v’ sound again, “so, Stee-ve,”

“Vee?” El nods, “Ste-vie?”

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Watching them, he feels a strange sense of happiness for Eddie, but also melancholy; he knows he’s about to loose, ‘Stee’. It was inevitable, he knows, Eddie’s getting better at speaking all the time. This was always going to happen.

“Almost, Steve,” she stresses the second part of Steve’s name.

“Steee-vie?” Eddie frowns, looking a bit frustrated that his mouth isn’t cooperating.

“I like Stevie,” Steve says, heading over to them.

Eddie nods, “Ste-vie,” he says proudly, “Stevie love?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve wedges himself between Eddie and the arm of the couch, then Jon files in and sits on the floor, making room as the coffee table gets shifted. Joyce

Hopper and Mike squeeze onto the other couch, “here kid,” Hopper passes an envelope across.

Out of it fall a drivers license, a passport, a birth certificate. Steve is caught for a second looking at the little picture of Eddie in his wig, and he guesses it works well enough. You have to really squint at the little picture to figure anything is up with it, and even then Steve figures he knows so he's looking for it, and the picture is obviously Eddie. He reads the details on the license, “Edwin!” He says, suddenly outraged, “Munson?! Hopper what the-”

“It’s what it said on the paper!”

“It did not say ‘Edwin’-”

“Eddie is not anyone's name kid, Eddie is always short for something else-”

“Edwin though?!”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head-”

Steve feels Eddie take the stack of papers out of his hands to inspect them, “and Munson? It said Mon-son! With an ‘O’!”

“It did not!” Hopper digs around in his pocket for the scrap of paper Steve had handed him along with the photos, “here, Munson.”

“That’s an ‘O’!”

“Well it looks like a ‘U’!”

“Stevie,” Eddie says carefully, “Stevie love, drive car again now?”

Steve looks over, Eddie’s carefully turning the pages of his new passport, inspecting his license, reading his birth certificate, like all of it is the most precious things he’s ever seen, “yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, yeah of course.” Eddie beams at him.

Hoppers eyebrows are practically in his hair, “what does he mean, ‘again’?”

Part twentyfive

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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bangchansgirlsblog · 6 months ago

Note

my dear! I'm your fan, I love your writing. Thank you for taking us out of our reality and allowing us to enter a world of our own! Could I make a request for a crazy idea I had? An anguished Y/N and Chan fight and he tells her to leave and leave him alone. When Y/N leaves in a daze he doesn't see the car and is run over. In the end I trust you. =) If it doesn't bother you and you can fulfill my request, I would be very happy!

Can we turn back time?

Warnings: blood, tragic, angst, accident.

Summary: ^^ Requested

A/N: hey baby :) not the best :/ butttt I hope you like it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Her heart was beating at a fast pace. Why was he not understanding what she was trying to say?

“You always come home late Chan! I thought I could have this one night. This one night to ourselves but you chose to go drinking instead?!” She poured her heart out as she stared at her idol boyfriend.

“Please Y/n now now okay? I get you wanna talk but can I please just go to bed? We can talk about it tomorrow,” he pleaded as he put down his black leather jacket on the couch.

His curls sat neatly on his head and his black shirt fitting him perfectly and his jeans neatly ironed.

“Chan it feels like you don’t love me anymore!”

“Well maybe I don’t, okay?!” He got up and yelled. His anger was now full on visible as he aggressively slammed his hands on the table.

She stood there looking at him shocked. Tears pricking through her eyes. What was this mess?

His eyes softened as looked her scared figure. “I- I didn’t mean too,”

“Save it Chan.” She sobbed. Her hand was fiddling with her promise ring that Chan has gifted her on their 2 year anniversary. It was the most beautiful ring that she has laid her eyes on but as time went on she realized it was just a ring it was a stress reliever because anytime she was sad, frustrated, mad or confused she would play with the ring on her finger.

“Why can’t you see the things you keep doing hurt me Chan?” She sobbed and looked up at him. Praying that somehow she can find answers.

“I-“ he took a deep breathe trying to keep his own tears in, “I’m failing okay? Can you just leave me alone? Please?” He took a shaky breath before taking a step back and grabbing his jacket.

“Am I a burden now?” Her chest tightened. Chan couldn’t look at her. He had no courage, no strength.

“I’m going upstairs,” he simply said and walked past her.

She wanted to stop him, beg him to hold her, beg him to be there for her but the pain in her chest told her otherwise. She looked so silly, like a kicked puppy.

She wiped her tears and walked over to grab her shoes before leaving her house totally forgetting her phone and keys.

It was dark and cold. The sun had officially set and people were either out having dinner or rushing home from work.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel bad as she watched the couples sitting outside restaurants talking and laughing.

She felt empty, she felt deceived. Chan was the perfect boyfriend. He made sure of it but when they started becoming a hit he started slowly pushing her to the side leaving her at home and going out to drink and party or he would be locked up in the studio trying to make new songs.

She was lost without him. She had created her whole routine off of him and now she would wakeup every morning feelings lost not knowing what to do.

Her mind was runnning so fast that she couldn’t keep up. The tears in her eyes were were blurring her vision as she took quick steps to the park.

It wasn’t far. That was always her safe space. Everytime she would get overwhelmed or exhausted she would run away and hide behind the big old oak tree down by the river next to the park.

It was a little foggy, she couldn’t see anything but Chan’s loud voice kept playing in her head until she heard a loud screech. She looked to the side but it was too late. A painful scream left her body as she watched the car crash into her body.

She didn’t feel pain all she could hear was a ringing sound then a few sirens before everything went quiet.

“199 what is your emergency?”

“I-I crashed into someone, help! Please! I don’t know what to do-“

“Okay sir is she breathing? I need you to calm down and tell me what happened,”

“Y-yes she’s still breathing, I- I was driving and she just stepped infront of the car, I don’t know! It wasn’t my fault,” he sobbed as panic was filling his chest.

He looked down at the frail body, blood was everywhere and yet he still didn’t pass out. He tried to put pressure on the area that was bleeding the most but it wasn’t working. Blood was still gushing out of her.

She looked familiar tho, he thought.

“Sir, I’ve sent an ambulance. I just need you to keep breathing and tell me if she stops breathing. Keep your hand on the wound,” the dispatcher kept telling him over and over again.

“Oh God this is a lot of blood. Please God, please don’t let her die,” he whispered as he looked up at the car that was parked by them.

It felt like hours until he felt like who could breathe. He heard the sirens. They were here. The paramedics were finally here.

“C’mon Y/n please pick up,” Chan cursed at himself as he walked back and forth in the living room.

He was now in sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair wet from the shower.

When he had come downstairs he saw no sight of Y/n and at first he thought that maybe she had gone for a breather so he decided to do some work knowing that she wouldn’t pick up his phone even if he had tried to call so he just chose to distract himself.

He felt guilty for the fight they had. It was chewing him alive but he knew it was his fault and he needed to make it up. As time kept passing by; 30 minutes turned into 2 hours.

He started to feel uneasy so he decided to try her phone but she wasn’t picking. He called all the boys at the dorm asking if she was with them but they said they hadn’t seen her then he called her bestfriend and she too hadn’t seen her. That’s when the panic started to set in.

He called her phone over and over again while making sure to text her too. He rushed upstairs to grab his crocs and that’s when he saw her phone on the night stand table.

“Shit, Y/n,” he groaned and rubbed his eyes before grabbing his car keys.

He put on his crocs and rundown the stairs and that’s when he got a call from his manager.

“What is it Soon-hoo, I can’t really-“

“Chan we need to get to the hospital now,” he said in a panic. Chan’s blood went cold as he could hear shuffling in the background.

“W-what is it? What happened?!” He managed to say.

“It’s Y/n Chan,” Chan’s senses came to a hold. Everyhting around him felt like it was moving in slow motion, “she got run over Chan, I’m coming to pick you up,” their manager said as he started the car.

All Chan could hear was a ringing sound as he stared at the blank floor. Tears running down his cheeks as his heart was beating faster.

______

Don’t forget to reblog😋

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x y/n #skz x you #bangchansgfblog #skz stay #skz drabbles #straykids #straykids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids comfort #bangchan angst #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader

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abswhore · 2 months ago

Text

JUST A FRIEND PT 3

Part one and two. tag: @i02elss

Pairing: college!fwb!abby Anderson x reader

A/N: I have a proofread so please excuse any mistakes - and thanks for all the likes and follows I’ve gotten so far 🩷 and don’t be afraid to comment!

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Come over I miss you the text message that came through your phone read, you bit your lip tapping your thumb on the screen, you were swarmed with work but you arching to see her. You slid off the bed , quickly putting on your shoes and jacket.

You told your roommate that you would be back later, once you got a notification that your Uber had arrived . The trip to Abby's was brief since her apartment wasn't too far from campus. You quickly texted her to let her know you were downstairs.

She sent you the access code to her apartment. And As you arrive at her door, you nervously fidget with the rings on your fingers, anxiously waiting for her to open up.

She smiled at you, saying, "You look good." As she ushered you inside, she nestled against you and planted a kiss on your neck before helping you take off your jacket.

“Why you acting like that?” Abby questioned raising her eyebrows

“Acting like what.” You approached her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while watching her as she moved around .

“All nervous like you never been here before.” She responded while leaning against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You make me nervous.” You joked with a little bit of truth mixed in, she hummed nodding “I do have that affect on people.”

“Whatever.” You chuckled lightly and rolled your eyes at her, enjoying a the silence that came over as you both kept eye contact. She pushed herself off the counter walking towards the fridge, grabbing a container of ice cream and two spoons.

“Tell me something about you.” She finally spoke breaking the silence between the two of you.

“What do you wanna know ?”

She shrugged pulling the spoon out of her mouth “whatever you think is important.”

You hummed while nibbling on your lip, contemplating what might be worth sharing with her. Eventually , you ended up discussing your family and a few other little details.

“You just gonna stare or say something?” You asked her once you finished sharing as she just looked at you with a grin.

“Open.” She told you putting a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth pulling out the spoon slowly “you’re cute.”

You turn your head as a smile slowly appeared on your face, your smile faded as you notice Abby’s phone glowing on the counter, the name Jade flashing brightly on the screen. Your gaze locks with hers as she turns her phone face down.

“You can answer, it seems important.” You told her As her phone chimed a few times, you felt a strange sensation wash over you, causing your chest to tighten.

“It’s nobody important.” She assured you and you responded with a hum while spinning the spoon around your fingers.

“C’mere.” As you moved around the counter towards her, she extended her arms, lifting your chin gently and brushing her lips against yours a few times.

“I’m with you right now.” She mumbled into your neck as her hands gripped your ass pulling you closer.

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Abby leaned in, planting kisses along your neck. “Good morning, beautiful,” she whispered, her voice warm and affectionate. You shifted your position, stretching your arms out before finally turning to face her and saying, " morning."

You felt her face press against your neck as she playfully nibbled on it. You let out a groan and gently shifted her face, asking, "are you not tired from last night?"

“I can’t get enough of you.” Abby’s lips curled into a playful smile as she began to pull you closer to her . “ I just want to lay with you.” She admitted as her fingers began to rub her thumb over your side

Wrapped in each other’s arms under the warmth of each other, the world outside of seemed to fade away. And Despite the rules you both had set no strings attached, no falling in love you couldn’t help but want more. You craved to be more than just friends you wanted Abby and all of her.

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Out of the blue, your roommate asked, “So, are you and Abby still together ?” This made you look up from your laptop.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, feeling uncertain about where this was going.

“It’s nothing serious, I just came across something and wasn’t sure if you knew,” she said, reaching for her phone.

“Her ex-girlfriend posted something a few days back,” she mentioned, passing you the phone. The image showed Abby with another girl after one of her games—the one you couldn’t attend due to work. Abby looked happy, her arm around the girl.

“Oh,” was all you could manage as you glanced at the username before returning the phone. “Thanks for letting me know.”

A tightness formed in your chest as you browsed through the account. Abby wasn’t very active on social media, but every picture had likes and comments. You tried to shake off the feeling, but it stuck with you.

You went to Abby’s contact your thumb hovered over the phone icon, deciding against it you deleted her contact throwing your phone to the side. You wanted to protect your feelings the ones that you had left.

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A few weeks had gone by since you promised yourself that you were finished with Abby, and it had been the toughest week of your life. You struggled to resist the temptation to respond to every message and call she sent your way.

However, it was at the homecoming party that you realized avoiding her would be nearly impossible. You knew you would cross paths with her at some point during the night.

As you stood next to Ellie and Jesse, you downed the shot that Nora had bought for you. “Might wanna take it easy,yeah ?” Ellie asked, you concerned .

“I’m fine, Els,” you replied, your words slightly slurred. You had drunk more than you planned, trying to keep pace with Jesse. You set the empty cup down and moved toward the group where Nora and Dina were, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Abby.

Then you spotted her. She was laughing with Manny and a few others you didn’t recognize, and you made your way over, your eyes fixed on her.

“Can we talk?” you asked nervously. She glanced at you, then at her friends, before handing her beer to them and grabbing your wrist, pulling you through the crowd.

She led you into an empty bathroom and leaned against the door. “What is it?” she asked, her tone sharp.

“I-I miss you,” was the first thing that came to mind as you looked at her. She opened her mouth to respond, but everything faded away as you moved closer and pulled her into a chaotic kiss. You both struggled for control, but she overpowered you, pushing you against the door and gripping your clothes tightly.

You don’t remember how you ended up from the bathroom to your room, both of your clothes were tossed around the room. Tugging on Abby pants you pulled them down, rubbing her throw her boxers as your felt the strap she wore

“You want this ?” She asked you lowly unclipping your bra, as she rubbed your boobs aggressively, you nodded your head backing up onto the bed.

“Words, tell me you want it.”

You exhale, "I want you," as you lean in for a kiss, but she pulls away, turning you around and gliding the silicone between your folds.

Abby reached for behind you grabbing. Your neck as she pushed the tip of the strap inside causing your to grasp her grip on your neck tightly as she pushed the entire strap inside of you pounding inside of you roughly, each stroke harder than the last .

“You feel me ? You feel my dick inside of you.” She whispered into your each slowing down her pace , pushing on your back making your arch.

Abby began to speed up her pace , her hips slapping against your ass as she thrust into you. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, mixing with your moans. She reached around, her fingers finding uoue clit, rubbing it in tight circles. Your moans grew louder, as you moved back matching her thrusts.

“You like how I fuck you.” Abby growled her grip tighten on your hips “don’t you? I’m the only one to make you feel this good.”

You could only nod as you bit on your wrist feeling your orgasm approaching, “ I wanna look at you while you fuck me.”

Abby smirked flipping you over slapping the black strap, on your clit rubbing it up and down causing you to whine. As she slid inside on you her chest met yours as she kissed on your neck.

her hands sliding up your sides to grip your boobs as she thrust harder into you. Abby squeezed at your chest as she bent down kissing you. Pulling back you stared at her face the confession fought to slip out as she hit your spot over.

“I love you.” You whispered lowly only for you to hear, she slowed down grinding into you “I can’t hear you baby speak up.”

“Fuck! I love you.” You busted out in a moan, Abby movement stopped her eyes widen as she looked at your face But she still doesn’t move, the tip kissing your cervix. Moving your body a little, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the position.

Her hand tightens at your hip, “Stop” she says, quietly moving your hand away from her hips But then, pushing past the weight of the words, she resumed her rhythm. Bring you to your climax and with a few strokes she came after you.

You both collapsed together, your chests pressing against each other as She gently brushed her hair away from your face, holding your jaw as she kissed you deeply.

“Abby.” You called out her name as she moved off of you wrapping her arms around you. The feeling was back in your chest . You had messed up the three words you spoke could run her away.

She hushed you kissing your back “let’s sleep.” Tears filled your eyes bitting down on your lip fighting to keep your emotions together.

And when you woke the next morning Abby was gone. You reach over grabbing your phone and no text or call. You had ran her away.

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#abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x reader #lesbian #tlou2 #wlw smut #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou smut #abby anderson x you #abby Anderson x reader smut #18+ mdni #nsft lesbian

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Unraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: I hope you all enjoy this random idea.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

One hand guides the fabric as the other turns the wheel. Your work is slow but steady, every stitch perfect, every seam precise. Your fare may be modest and your product simple, but its quality cannot be contested. Your labour as yourself is honest and plain.

The noise of the machine is your only company. The one-room shop nestled behind the butcher’s rarely sees a customer through its door. Instead, the orders are sent from the factories, returned with the printed adverts you disperse outside their doors. The writs are sent along with an envelope of pence and shilling and you complete each with equal diligence before sending them back bundled in paper and twine.

The operation isn’t especially fruitful but the profit is enough to subsist. Enough to guarantee your independence; a small apartment just above and a pot of stew to last you through each week. This humble existence is preferable to any marriage you’ve witnessed.

The letters from your sisters reaffirm your spinster’s fate. You’d rather a hand wheel and a needle than a brood and broken back. A husband seems to provide several jobs at once, you’ll happily settle for one.

As your hands work from memory and your head wanders from tedium, the bell above the door gives a single sharp toll. You ease the wheel to a halt and leave the seam unfinished. You peer up above the black iron machine, reminding yourself to fix your hunch as a client enters. You can’t but wonder if he may have come to the wrong shop.

By his attire, he is a class above the factory women who require gray skirts and simple stays. His waistcoat is embroidered and his jacket is pressed and clean. He is tall, locks part tidily so his curls lay gracefully. His face is fresh-shaven, square jaw with a cleft, and shoulders broad and strong. He does not share the same sinewy gauntness as the labourers with the coal-dusted noses.

He carries a fine leather bag. Another clue to his status. His shoes, another. Polished and without creases.

You stand to greet him, “good afternoon, sir. Might I help you with something?”

His answer is not prompt. He takes in the finished dresses hung by the east wall and turns to examine the rolls of wool and cotton. At last, he returns his attention to you.

“Afternoon,” his deep timbre fills the small space, “you are the dressmaker.”

It isn’t a question, but you answer, “I am.”

He narrows his eyes as he approaches your desk, the sole fixture in the space. From without, the shop is just as bare. The blackened windows offer not insight into the business, its only suggestion the sign hung above the door, though the paint requires a fresh coat.

“And the shop owner?”

“That is me as well, sir,” you assert. The presumption is not uncommon.

“Ah,” he accepts your explanation without comment, “so, you will have sewn this.”

He puts his bag on the desk, nearly knocking your shears from the corner. You try not to flinch as they teeter near the edge and he pulls open the top of the leather bag. He pulls out a swath of grey. You recognise it and he rolls the cuff to show your initials sewn within.

“Sir,” you say precariously, “is there some issue with it? Is it your wife’s dress?”

“Wife? No, no,” he dismisses, feeling the fabric between his fingers, “rather I am in search of the dress’s owner. The initial must belong to them, yes? So you would have a name for the buyer.”

“Mm, no, those are mine,” you point at the letters, “as it is my handiwork.”

“That makes sense,” he frowns in disappointment. “So you wouldn’t know who would wear it?”

You rub your chapped lips together. You find your tongue sliding over them often when you work, turning them raw with the habit. The man’s lips are rosy and smooth, as well-kempt as the rest of him. He is no factory worker’s husband.

“I might… would you take it out?” You ask.

He obliges as you pluck up the metal cylinder from your desk and unfurl the tape measure from within. He shakes out the dress, holding it by the shoulders to reveal salt stains along the skirts and unleashing a dingy smell in the shop. You wiggle your nose at the stench but worse roils in from the butcher’s on hot days.

You take the measure of the sleeves and the waist, then to the hem. You scribble the numbers on a scrap and take that to compare with your ledger. The measurements are in now way defining but might narrow it down. He keeps the dress aloft and you return to him to check the thread along the seams. A few months ago, you changed the thickness as the factory workers complained of splits under the arms.

“Hm, it is a recent purchase,” you assure him and return to the ledge.

He lowers the dress and approaches. You snap the book closed and turn your face up to consider him once more, “why do you need to know, if it is not your wife?”

“You are very discerning,” he remarks as he folds the dress and drapes it over his bag, “I’m certain then you can surmise the woman who wore this dress did not meet a kind fate.” He tugs up the hem and shows a tear trimmed in scarlet, the colour not obvious from a distance. “Holmes, Sherlock Holmes. I’m a detective and I’m trying to identify a poor woman found not far from here. I believe it is in your own interest that I discover her assailant.”

“I cannot say for certain which she is,” you turn over the scrap and re-open the ledger. You write down three names which match the measurements and hold the paper out to him. He takes it, his thick fingertips brushing yours. “Those are the ones which align with the dress.”

“Mm,” he hums as he tucks the paper into his chest pocket, “and your name? I couldn’t make it out on the sign.”

You recite your name flatly, “it isn’t on the sign.”

“It requires new paint,” he admonishes, “I could hardly find you.”

“I am aware,” you reply. “Thank you for noting.”

He’s quiet, “being a detective, however, I did indeed put together the clues.”

Is he making a joke? You cannot tell. He folds up the dress completely and puts it back in the leather bag. The smell persists.

“What are you prices?” He asks abruptly.

“Sir, I sew dresses for factory women, sometimes a few communion pieces, but I’m afraid I don’t do much suit work.”

“My sister requires a dress,” he sniffs, “as simple as it is, I can see your work is fine.”

“I have only wools and cottons,” you counter.

“Do you always turn away business?” He challenges.

“I wasn’t, sir, I’m only clarifying what I currently do. My prices are set for those fabrics,” you explain.

“I will pay for the muslin and velvet,” he waves his hand staunchly, “you will be paid for your labour. Can you sew with more than wool and cotton?”

“I can, sir, but you could find a ready-made dress in a market boutique if the dress is required promptly.”

“I can afford the time and coin,” he insists. “You are not a talented advertiser, are you?”

You’re taken aback by his bluntness. Often, his ilk have that demeanour. It’s why you’d rather the factory workers and the fish sellers’ wives.

“I suppose not,” you agree, “I would need measurements before I begin. You may send the numbers along with the fabric, then. And I would require a style. Perhaps your sister is a purveyor of fashion magazines?”

“I will send a messenger,” he shrugs. “Thank you for your time. I shan't get in your way any longer.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Good day to you,” he takes the bag from your desk and the shears fall to the floor with a clatter.

You skirt around to grab them as he bends and swipes them up first. You recoil as he closes the blades with a snap. He examines them before placing them back on the desk.

“Apologies,” he says, “and miss,” he looks at you, “take to heart what I’ve told you today. Keep away from the allies and perhaps you may consider locking your door.”

“Thank you, sir, your concern is appreciated.”

“Rather you might just keep those close, eh,” he points to the shears and his cheek dimples.

Again, you can’t be certain of his humour. You keep a placid expression, neither smiling nor scowling. He clears his throat and runs his hand down his jacket, gripping the lapel.

“Very well then, I’ll be off.”

He turns on his heel and marches to the door. You stay by the desk as the bell rings with his departure. Once the door closes, you cross the shop. You turn the lock into place, his foreboding lingering with the stale scent of dirty water.

🪡

Despite the unusual visit, your days roll on like a hand on a clock. The thought of the woman’s tragic fate looms like a shadow but fades. You have too much stitching to do to fret over that man and his ominous words. You assume his interest in your work thereafter was wholly feigned as he does not return.

That day, you pass off six parcels to Eustace, the driver who takes them down to the stacks to hand off to the floor bosses who will parse them out to the women they’ve been cut for. You pay him his toll before he climbs back into the seat of his cart, his horse kicking impatiently.

“Excuse me, sir,” another driver clops up along the other side of the street, a narrow squeeze between the slanting buildings. “I’m in search of a dressmaker. I believe the store is tucked behind the butcher’s and…” the man’s voice drifts off as his eyes flit to the meat sellers marquee.

“Right here, good sir,” Eustace responds, “wouldn’t ya know, she’s right here.”

You lift your chin to see past the cart and spy the driver. He removes his cap as his gaze meets yours. Eustache dips his chin as he adjusts his own hat and snaps his old mare into a canter. As you're left alone with the carriage driver, a vehicle rather lofty for a block like this, you fold your hands behind you.

“Sir, you hardly look in need of a work woman’s dress,” you say.

“Miss,” he ties the reins off and jumps down from his seat, “I am sent for you, not a dress.”

“For me?” You echo.

“Mr. Holmes has sent,” he crosses the muck and nearly slips. “He said he made an appointment for a seamstress.”

“An appointment? I wasn’t informed of the time,” you rebuff. “I’ve a shop to run, orders paid for. I can’t simply leave.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Holmes made mention of a fee,” the man feels around his striped coat, “he said a deposit would be needed.”

He takes out a brown envelope and hands it over. You take it, a small weight within. You look at the driver before you pull back the flap and peek inside. A large gold sovereign sits in the corner of the paper; a whole pound. That’s at least three days work.

You hold your breath, trying to maintain some composure. If that’s the deposit, what is he offering for the rest? You slip out the folded paper within, a page torn from a fashion journal. The dress is elegant if not extravagant. You don’t often do off-the-shoulder or ruffles like that but it isn’t beyond your skill.

You fold the flap closed again and lift your chin to face the driver, “I must lock up, you see?”

“Take your time, miss,” he says kindly. “Mr. Holmes isn’t expecting you to hurry.”

“Thank you, sir,” you bow your head and turn away.

You measure your steps along the facade of the butcher’s shop and curl around to the alleyway. You let yourself into your shop and tuck the envelope into your apron pocket. You take your sewing bag from under the desk and shake off the dust. You don’t often have reason to use it.

You open it up and pack away your shears, a measuring tape, pins with a cushion, your notebook, and a few other bits and bobs. Just in case. You grab a role of linen from against the wall. It’s heavy but you can manage.

You take the key from your desk drawer and switch off the overhead light. You lock the door and continue back out to the street. The driver puffs smoke from a pipe as he waits.

“Miss, allow me,” he snuffs out the pipe and puts it in his pocket. He nears and reaches for the roll of linen.

“It’s quite alright, sir,” you say.

“I insist, miss, can’t have a lady doing all that,” he takes it, not forcefully, and you let him.

As he goes to the carriage and opens the door, you give pause. You don’t know if you should be so easily swayed on a gold coin. Mr. Holmes hadn’t been entirely pleasant and you do prefer your simple work. Still, you can hardly turn your nose up at a pound. Not with the summer fizzling to a finale.

You lift your skirts and cross the street to the open carriage, “sir, might I have a name?”

“Gavin,” he answers, “and I have yours. Mr. Holmes made sure of it.”

“Yes, very good,” you say as you approach, another sliver of doubt trickling through. Mr. Holmes claimed to be a detective but is that really the reason he was strolling around with a dead woman’s dress? You gulp and look at Gavin then the carriage, “might I keep the window open?”

“Surely you can,” he agrees amiably. “Mr. Holmes lives quite a ways, shouldn’t mind the air. I’ll be certain to stay away from the stacks.”

“Thank you, sir,” you accept his proffered hand and he helps you up into the carriage.

You settle on the bench as the door shuts and you open the window from within. You lean back, your hand grasping the top of your bag. You unclasp it as you feel Gavin climb up on the driver’s seat. You dip your hand inside and clutch your long shears.

You don’t forget all of what Mr. Holmes said.

#sherlock holmes #enola holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #unraveled

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slut4celebs · 21 days ago

Text

Diss Me

Billie Eilish x Reader

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. The smut is literally so quick guys, but cunnilingus warning.

Word Count: 1,348

Request/Synopsis: "a fanfic where Billie and reader have a feud in the music industry, readerbeing the only artist who sells as much as billie does and is about billie's age, reader one day writes a diss song which is clearly about billie (but doesnt say her name) but people start to realize that diss says a lot of things which come across as really flirty. When they meet at the VMA's billie goes up to reader to demand some answers about this and reader straight up flirts with her? It can become smut or fluff from there, up to you." In which Billie and the reader have a love-hate relationship.

Please request here. :)

There was a scoff heard around the room as Billie took her headphones off. (Y/n) was at it again, trying to start bullshit drama with her. Her fingers tapped on the table in front of her in thought. For two people never meeting, there was a strong tension between the two of them. Maybe it was because they started their career at the same age, became hits at the same time, and often have their successes compared rather than mutually celebrated. Billie looked at her brother, who had a raised brow, trying to figure out exactly what her sister had been watching.

"Have you heard this new diss track about me?" She questioned, not even sure if she wanted her brother to hear it. After all, the lyrics at one point went 'I might hate her but man I wish those blue eyes stared down at me while I give her cunnilingus.' Finneas rolled his chair over to her, holding a hand out to his sister to listen to the song, and he adorned a smirk as he shook his head at (Y/n)'s antics, obviously trying to bait Billie. "I don't even know what to think of it. Is she hating on me or is she flirting with me?"

Finneas leaned back in his chair, turning back to his soundboard. This was supposed to be a writing session, but Billie was too busy obsessing over (Y/n)'s new song. "Your name isn't even in the song, Billie. What if she isn't even talking about you in it?" Oh, she definitely was talking about Billie. What gave it away was 'Your peak was at your green hair, babe.' Which wasn't at all true if HIT ME HARD AND SOFT was anything to go by. Which it was. Billie felt annoyance rumble in the pit of her stomach as she tapped her shoe. "Listen, why not just ask her about it Saturday? You two are going to see each other." Finneas reminded her with a knowing look before putting a beat together.

Billie rolled her eyes over her brother's nonchalance over this. Scooting in, she began writing some lyrics, backlash to the song. In that moment, Billie decided she needed to get her frustrations out as she wrote angrily on her paper. Her brother couldn't help but be amused over this long feud going on between the two. After all, Finneas could see that the two were very talented artists who were turned into enemies due to the media. But honestly, they would be such a force to be reckoned with if they just set aside whatever animosity they had for each other. They could probably even write a duet that would stun the world. However, people might not get that chance if they didn't get over themselves. If they would stop playing into the media's games.

Billie walked down the VMAs red carpet in a suit jacket and the currently infamous and trending bubble skirt. Her hair was pulled out of her face with gold pins. She couldn't help but feel irked when a figure got ushered behind her on the carpet. It was (Y/n), she knew by the yelling. Anyone else, she would love to share the carpet with. (Y/n), though. She'd rather be dead than there at this moment. Billie turned her head to meet (Y/n)'s gaze, a look of mirth in her eyes. "Come on, let's get a picture of you two!" People kept cheering. They couldn't just decline the photos so they posed along the carper, getting some solo shots as well.

Once inside, Billie glowered at her. The look made (Y/n) want to laugh as she kept walking forward, ignoring the thick tension. "What the fuck was that song?" She asked, growling. (Y/n) tilted her head, feigning confusion and innocence. "Oh, fuck off. Don't give me that. I reached my peak in my green hair era? You want to give me cunnilingus?" She crossed her arms, obviously not as amused as (Y/n) and Finneas were over the lyrics. There was a palpable silence that passed through them. Billie was obviously waiting on an answer. A real answer, not some bullshit (Y/n) might manufacture in the moment.

(Y/n) was about to answer when Billie pulled her into the restrooms. "If you really want to give me cunnilingus, do it. Right here, right now. Get on your knees and I'll show you who has reached their goddamn peak." She growled, the demand making (Y/n) look at her in shock. There was no one in hell that Billie was serious right now, right? But by the look in her eyes, (Y/n) could tell she was joking as her hand moved, no eye contact breaking, locking the door. "Look at you, now. You had so much to say on your diss track, but now that we're face to face, you're short on words?" She questioned, a brow raising.

Her mouth went dry as she licked her lips, looking up at Billie. "No, not lost on words, just surprised. I meant my lyrics, I do want to give you cunnilingus as you stare at me with those blue eyes." She stated, placing her purse on the counter and dropping so hard on her knees, they'd probably bruise. Billie couldn't help but feel powerful at that moment, making her musical arch-nemesis fall to her knees so easily. Billie fingers couldn't help but slide through the girl's hair in admiration, unaware she was even doing it.

(Y/n) slid down Billie's panties and immediately got to work, sliding her tongue through Billie's folds. She moaned at the taste of the girl's dripping cunt before her tongue circled around her clit. The action made Billie weak in her knees as (Y/n) began to suck on her sensitive nub. She gripped the bar that was to hold hangars as (Y/n)'s tongue made its way to her entrance. It started as kitten licks then progressed to (Y/n) eating Billie out nosily like she was her first meal in years. The sound of squelching and the mixing of their moans filled the bathroom, and Billie couldn't help the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head. (Y/n) pushed her face in deeper to her cunt, her nose hitting Billie's clit as she worked.

Embarrassment hit her with how quickly (Y/n) made her cum. The girl pulled away, both of their chests heaving. One from cumming, the other from slight suffocation of her own doing. Slick coated (Y/n)'s chin and she went to clean it as Billie's racing heart started to finally calm. "I don't hate you," (Y/n) said, shocking the black haired girl as she fixed herself. (Y/n) was applying her make-up, looking at her from the mirror. "I wrote the song because I always thought you hated me." She admitted, retouching her red lipstick, going over it with clear gloss.

Billie's brows furrowed. Making her way over, her hands fell to her hips. "I don't hate you either." She said softly. A small smile danced on (Y/n)'s lips as she turned around. The two kissed, messing up the freshly done lipstick, but neither of them particularly cared at the moment. Right now, they were just lost in each other.

"Well, how about this… We go out there together, we have fun, and then… We can go on a date or something." (Y/n) offered, holding out her hand to take Billie out of the restroom. Billie agreed and the two walked out as if (Y/n) didn't just single-handedly deliver Billie's best orgasm to her. For the rest of the night, they just spent time getting to know each other, dropping the hate that the media had forced them to have for each other. Hate that neither one of them actually had for each other. It was evident, though, that this was a case of the media putting two brilliant women artists against each other, but they were breaking the cycle.

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish

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heroes-among-us-all · 1 year ago

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A Perfect Match

summary: Chisaki isn't looking forward to meeting his soulmate, at least not until he discovers that you are Quirkless.

tags: soulmate!au, fluff, fem!reader

It’s just so annoying. Even though he’s lived with it all his life, Chisaki swears he’ll never get used to seeing that godforsaken timer counting down. It’s always there, in the corner of his periphery, and it only ever disappears when he shuts his eyes and lets everything fade to black.

A soulmate mark. That’s what it’s called. People have different variations of it—some know the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them, some have a red string tying them to their soulmate that only they can see, and others, like him, have been stuck with a timer since birth that tells him how much longer until he meets his soulmate for the first time.

And based on how much time is remaining, it looks like he’ll be meeting his soulmate today.

Chisaki isn’t excited. If anything, he’s dreading the encounter, and he just wishes it would hurry up and be over with. At least then, the timer will disappear, and it’ll be one less thing grating at his nerves. He doesn’t believe in the phenomenon of soulmates, he has no desire for trifling matters such as love, and for a man who loathes being touched, he can’t imagine it would work out anyhow.

Much of the day goes as planned. He helps Pops with some paperwork, cleans up the office to keep all those pesky germs away, and Chisaki briefly wonders how he’ll even meet you, since he intends on staying home all day.

“Chisaki,” Pops suddenly says. “Would you mind going out into town and buying me a few things? I wrote a list of what I need.”

Ah. So, that’s how.

“Of course,” Chisaki nods, and he puts on his jacket before slipping his shoes on by the door. “I’ll be back soon. It won’t take long.”

Seriously, it really won’t. Regardless of the fact that he’s going to run into you, he has no intention of staying and chatting. He’s going to reject you right on the spot. Soulmates aren’t real, anyways. What a stupid notion, to think that someone’s greatest love can be predetermined.

Chisaki adjusts his mask more tightly, then steps outside. He reaches the store quickly enough, and although he hates having to touch things that countless strangers have laid hands on, his gloves provide him with a thin layer of protection from all the filth.

He tracks down everything he needs at a steady pace, and as he reaches for the very last item on his list, someone else reaches for it at the exact same time.

Immediately, Chisaki recoils, and he manages to avoid touching a stranger’s hand. But right as he’s biting back the urge to grimace, he realizes that the timer—the same timer he’s had all his life—his finally disappeared.

Ah.

So, it’s you. Chisaki turns his head to the side and finds himself looking at a young woman, who is staring back at him wide-eyed and breathless. He has a pretty good idea of what’s going on in your head. You must have realized it, too.

After more than two decades, he’s finally met his soulmate.

You’re pretty. Chisaki can at least admit that much. You have nice features, you dress in a way that suggest you care about your appearance, and you have a pleasant, clean scent, which means that you take personal hygiene seriously—thank god.

But all that being said, Chisaki still has no desire to strike up a relationship with you. He doesn’t enjoy being around people. He can’t even bear to touch people, not counting Pops, who is his family. Not to mention that he’s part of the yakuza, and from what he gleams, you seem to be an average citizen.

There’s just no reality in which this would ever work out.

“U-Um,” you stammer, visibly nervous. “Are you...? I mean, um... it’s you, right? You must be my... soulmate.”

It’s a bit endearing how flustered you are, and for a moment, Chisaki feels slightly guilty about what he’s going to do.

Still. It’s better to tell you the truth now rather than let you get your hopes up.

“The timer,” Chisaki nods. “I have it too. Well, I did have it. Up until a few seconds ago, at least.”

A smile blooms across your lips, and it tugs at his heartstrings a bit, because goodness, you really are adorable.

“I knew it!” you beam. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is really happening! I’m so excited! But I guess that was pretty obvious, haha. Sorry. I’m going to try to calm down now, but it’s just—this is just so—”

Chisaki raises a hand. “Before you say anything else, I need to let you know that I have no interest in pursuing a relationship with you.”

It only takes a second for your expression to sink.

“...what?” you mumble softly. “But... we’re soulmates. I thought that means we’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t mean that we should start dating right away, but at the very least, if we could start by getting to know each other...”

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki says. “I don’t have much interest in romance. I prefer to keep to myself, and frankly, I’m not even sure I believe in soulmates. It all seems far too convenient. It was nice meeting you, but we’ll have to leave it here.”

By the looks of things, you’re on the verge of tears. Chisaki isn’t a very emotional person, but he can’t fault you for getting your hopes up. This must have been something you’d been looking forward to for many, many years. If only your soulmate was someone else. It’s a pity. You seem like a very nice woman, and he hopes that you’ll find happiness one way or another. Just not with him.

You swallow hard, just barely managing to hold back your tears. “I... understand. I’m sorry. I came into this with all these expectations, but I never stopped to think that the other person might not have been as excited as I was. I guess I was just really hopeful. I’m Quirkless, so... people have always thought less of me. I figured my soulmate would like me no matter what, but we’re pretty much strangers, so I don’t know what I was thinking. Anyways, I’m sorry again for bothering you. I’d ask your name, but it would probably just make the whole thing more painful.”

You turn to leave, but in that moment, Chisaki’s eyes have gone completely wide.

What did she just say?

“Wait!” he cries out, and you reel to a halt, surprised by the outburst.

Now it’s Chisaki’s turn to swallow. The roof of his mouth feels dry and uncomfortable, and he worries that perhaps his ears deceived him.

“You’re Quirkless,” he breathes. “Is that... really true?”

“I’m not sure who would lie about something like that,” you chuckle weakly. “It’s not exactly something to be proud of.”

Wrong. You don’t even know just how wrong you are.

In a world teeming with filth and sickness, those who haven’t been contaminated by the Quirk pandemic are a rarity. People like you are unblemished and pure, and...

Shit. Chisaki is starting to believe that soulmates might be the real deal, after all.

“It’s okay not to have a Quirk,” he says, and it’s insane how fast his heart is beating now. “No. It’s better not to have a Quirk. I much prefer it that way.”

You press your lips together. “Are you making fun of me right now? Listen, I said I was sorry for bothering you—”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m being completely serious. Quirks... I’ve never liked them. Just the thought of them makes me sick.” He pauses, inhales sharply to collect himself, then lets out a heavy sigh. “The reason I turned you away is because I thought it would be impossible for us to have a relationship. I break out into hives the moment anyone touches me. I distance myself from people, and the thought of being intimate with someone has always repulsed me. And Quirks are largely to blame for that, because Quirks are a mutation. A disease. That’s why I didn’t think we had a chance. But now that you say you’re Quirkless... I’m starting to think differently.”

You arch a brow, and it’s clear that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. Fuck. He hopes he isn’t scaring you off. He’s finally, finally found someone who he has an actual chance of being with, and he doesn’t want to ruin this.

“If you don’t mind... would it be alright if I held your hand?” Chisaki asks breathlessly.

Once again, you stare back at him in confusion, but it thankfully doesn’t look like you’re opposed to it. You reach out a hand, slow and hesitant, and at the same time, Chisaki peels off on his gloves, letting his skin breathe free.

When your fingers meet his own, he lets out a soft gasp. Not out of disgust, not out of apprehension, but out of sheer relief.

No hives. No uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

You aren’t sick like the rest, which means he can touch you to his heart’s content.

Chisaki would have liked to hold your hand for much, much longer, but out of fear of scaring you off, he reluctantly lets go and gives you some space.

“I just wanted to confirm something,” he mumbles. “If it’s you... I’m able to touch you just fine. I don’t get sick. It looks like we’re soulmates for a reason.”

The look in your eyes is far from judgmental, and when you finally muster up your next words, Chisaki can hear a little hiccup catch in your throat.

“So... you really don’t mind that I’m Quirkless?” you ask.

“Not at all. It’s just the opposite. I feel comfortable around you precisely because you’re Quirkless. That must be why we were fated to meet. Because we’re a perfect match.”

Chisaki has never flirted a day in his damn life, but something he said must have tickled your fancy, because you blush and shyly avert your gaze.

“I was really worried there for a moment,” you mumble. “It sounded like you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki frowns. “I was too quick to judge. I’m very particular about certain things, and I thought there was no chance. But I was mistaken. And if you’re still open to it... I would love the opportunity to get to know you better. Starting with your name. Would you mind telling me your name?”

“I’m [Name],” you reply, and you flash him another bright, genuine smile. God, he swears he’s already fallen in love with that smile.

“It suits you. I’m Chisaki. Chisaki Kai.” He takes a moment to think it through, and then, he does something he’s never done before in public.

He removes his mask so that you can see his entire face.

Your eyes widen. “Oh, wow. Chisaki, you’re so handsome! I didn’t realize my soulmate would be so gorgeous. Now I can’t help but feel self-conscious by comparison...”

“I appreciate the compliment,” he chuckles. “But you’re beautiful. I thought so even before I found out you were Quirkless.”

He watches, with great delight, as you blush yet again. You’re just so adorable. He never thought he would be thanking his lucky stars for having a soulmate mark, let alone one that caused him endless frustration for more than twenty years, but here he is.

“I was going to head straight home after running some errands for my old man, but how about we sit outside somewhere and chat for a while?” he asks hopefully.

Your smile returns, this time, wider than ever.

“Sure!”

As it turns out, Chisaki doesn’t get back home until much, much later, and he finds Pops waiting for him with his arms crossed.

“Chisaki,” Pops frowns. “What was the hold-up? You’re usually so efficient when it comes to these things. I was expecting you back hours ago.”

Normally, Chisaki would have apologized at great length for inconveniencing Pops. He is, after all, the man that brought him and raised him as his own. He loves and cherishes him, and will do anything in his power to repay him.

But right now, Chisaki is up in cloud nine.

“I met my soulmate,” he says, setting the shopping bags down. “Sorry, Pops. We got to talking for a while.”

“Oh?” Pops lifts a brow, and tries—but fails—to hide his smirk. “But I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with them. You told me you didn’t believe in such things.”

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“I’ve never known you to be the type to do that. You’re stubborn to a fault. But I’m not complaining. It sounds like you’ve turned over a new leaf. So, then, tell me about this soulmate of yours.”

For the second time that same day, Chisaki removes his mask—and it’s so that Pops can see his ear-splitting grin.

“She’s perfect.”

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