#She would knife cat
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Donât let her fool you (Patreon)
#Doodles#Original#I blame the character creators I was using at the time for the shirt lol - that was an actual option obviously I had to choose that#She's a teddy bear! It only makes sense that she'd wear a shirt with no pants! That's what all the plush bears do! But also what no??? Lol#She's not shy but she also literally has nothing /to/ be shy about - what sense would shame make for something she doesn't have#She'd probably also make the argument that for-real-life bears also don't wear pants lol#Anyway mostly just a bunch of silly things âȘ More stuff based on the character creators#There's actually a good handful of picrews that have plushie options? Very cute#Including one cursed (intentionally) horror-themed Care Bear maker? Very good would recommend haha#I have a couple old ones of Cure-but-human that never Quite suited her but it's still funny to see her smug face#She would knife cat#I couldn't decide what kind of mask she would wear so why not a couple! She doesn't have a respiratory system the heck#I wonder if Build-a-Bear has mask options these days :0 Since they were always big on upselling with clothes#So I looked and apparently they mostly offer branded masks for their human customers - disappointing - but they do offer one (1) bear mask#It's just a generic medical mask but it's something!#Hhhhh this is just making me want to go to Build-a-Bear wagh that wasn't the goal!#I can't say Cure's not at least a Little inspired by Build-a-Bear tho she absolutely is#She's a plush bear! She pulls from all the iconics and classics#Including of her just being straight up a teddy bear in that second to last one lol#Can't say she's not cute âȘ She definitely is#By design :)#Hey wait a second! I was browsing the BaB clothes and they have a ''Sun's Out Buns Out'' shirt!! She's Build-a-Bear fr!
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Drew a little comic today!
Viz, let Blake be a little shit to Raven in v10 and my life is yours.
Per usual, do not reupload without credit/permission. Thanks folks!
(My ko-fi, should you wish!)
#This whole page spawned from the idea of Blake as that one cat with a knife pointed at it#And real ones know that I would sell my fucking soul for Blake to tell Raven off in v10#ESPECIALLY after what we learn about Raven and Summer in v9#You're telling me Yang's NOT gonna be a bit of a mess when she's forced to be around Raven?#Plus you fucking know Raven would say some shit about how she and Blake aren't that different#âI don't care what you think of me - but you and I are more alike than you'd care to admit girl.â#Raven means that Blake leaves people she loves too#Blake decides it means its time to turn on the terrorist#That's it that's the comic#Blake would probably lose - with Raven's maiden powers and all - but she'd put up a damn good fight to prove her point#God I cannot wait to see the dynamics between Blake Yang and Raven#rwby#rwby fanart#bumbleby#blake belladonna#raven branwen#yang xiao long#temp tats art
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What the fuck is up with Hook
Why is he at some random prep school? Heâs already got the hook hand, so Peter Pan has already cut it off meaning heâs been to Neverland, also he says heâs a captain so like why the fuck are you here
I hate this movie so fucking much, nothing about it makes sense to me, why is Hades a teenager, why did they make some fankid of a Sofia the first villain instead of using one of the many Disney Villains that exist, why is Maleficent a lackey, why am I devoting so much of my time to try and make sense of this movie
#I canât believe that Descendants 4 was the movie that finally broke me#Disney I am at your door and I have a knife please explain things to me#descendants the rise of red#Descendants 4#Captain Hook#James Hook#Descendants Hades#morgie le fay#(The fuck kinda name is Morgie btw)#descendants maleficent#The only Villain that Iâm okay with being there is Uliana#Like idk why sheâs at this school but like I get her deal and I dig it#If youâre reading these tags then congrats you will now here my suggestions for who the villain sidekicks should have been#I think either one or both of the evil stepsisters#Like yeah theyâre not that intimidating but with the stepmother as an important character it would make sense#Why were they not in the movie tho like wtf#Hans is another suggestion#I think heâd go to that school plus heâs a modern villain so thatâs fun#Facilier could have been cool#Prince John from Robin Hood as like a cat boy#But the one that I think would have been the coolest would have been Adam#Like Pre-Beast when he was all vain and shit#It might have been a lot to unpack but I think it would have been cool as shit#If not then like Gaston#Disney hire me
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blorbos from my brain
#beloved villainxcivilian wip. i need to draw you#post unrelated to previous few. mostly#if anyone's reading this post and curious: vague superhero/villain-containing setting; mc is a woman who gets out of a shit relationship#w a local hero by selling his work laptop to a local villain and using the money to flee the province/whatever with her cat & suitcase.#gets set up w a tiny apartment. barely leaves. severe anxiety that she's gonna be tracked down by either her ex or the villain to tie up lo#loose ends#eventually unwinds enough to leave; takes a 3rd shift at an ancient tiny library with old archives#local supervillain (not that she knows at first) becomes a repeat visitor looking over the old city blueprints and hwhatnot on file#eventually unwinds enough to start a mayyybe situationship#he's not blind she's clearly very distrusting n nervous even if she's got a crazy good customer service face so he's very slow abt it#lets her set the pace of whatever they're doing#which simultaneously reassures her and makes her nervous#because it could be a mask. it could be a trap. she literally has no way to really know#gets worse when the truth about his profession comes out#mental breakdown. lots of yelling. butter knife brandished like a weapon (<- taken very seriously)#once shit settles a lot of time is dedicated to figuring out how they want to continue this. if they want to#given that there is realistically a crazy power dynamic between them. she's an immigrant who had to uproot herself from literally everyone#and everything she knows and has; has no support system in a country she is technically not legally supposed to be in;#he is very influential; having both notable scores of money socked away and a potentially a mole in the local policing force#if he wanted to make her disappear in one way or another it would not be difficult for him#much how her ex was becoming. extremely overbearing so to speak#so Yah trying to navigate that. very serious discussions if they can make that work out or if they should split#bc i want a happy ending i think they make it work! not sure about the specifics but theyre good#i think he doesnt realize how badly shes fucked up until at some point after The Breakdown he puts together that she's the reason the hero#in a few provinces away got completely Fucked by the local villain scene#and putting that together with her severe anxiety and not-great living situation. why she would've possibly done that#anyways. the inspiration for this all was mostly out of distaste for most of the romantasy books i have to see in various fandom tags#male love interest who doesn't really respect boundaries VS. m.l.i. who is extremely respectful of boundaries while managing to remain a vi#villain by the laws of the genre/setting/otherwise plot#(and asking the question of what does villainy mean in this context)
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speaking of sansa & childbirth.... man..... it'd be totally awful if. she had a bit of trouble giving birth to cat :))))))))) & ppl thought she would die & it looked like she wasn't going to make it :)))))))))))))))))
#queue els & becca & macy fucking murdering me on the spot FFGGHHJJKJYFGHGHHHH#she gave birth on a ship along the white knife on the way to winterfell from white harbor after talking with the manderlys#but n e wayz aurane's there her maester's there brienne's there sandor's there maybe jeyne poole & theon are there too#she likely got into like a haze & maybe she saw ned robb & cat there for a few minutes but managed to come back#she & catelyn turned out fine tho & she'd continue to have more kids w/ no problems ! everyone would be losing their sanity on that ship tho#ooc.
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As someone who's survived PTSD and has DID, I really see a lot of very similar traits in Sunny that I see in myself and I actually hc Omori himself as protector/gatekeeper alter and Something as a persecutor.
#it would make a lot of sense considering the age he was when the thing with Mari happened that it could be something he develops#I mean he already had obviously has repressed memories and really disassociative daydreams#to the point that he actually pulls a knife on someone in real life#and speaking from personal experience- he's a hikikomori and your symptoms get worse when you self isolate#Sunny is experiencing actual psychosis because of his own body trying to protect him from the truth about what happened with Mari#and I've experienced our prosecutor alter hijacking our body like that and it's scary#and also to be on the verge of remembering something that seems incredibly important#only for it to be yanked away from you with a wave of anxiety is also something we've experienced#like I don't think it was at all the intention of omo cat when she wrote this character but these are at least osdd adjacent symptoms- man#shin megami talksei#omori game#omori
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Goddammit I miss that cat.
#my wife's cat Prince died of cancer in March#he was so fucking ornery and particular about everything; he was named because of his regal look but he acted like a spoiled prince too#the kind of beautiful super fuzzy cat that didn't like anyone but their owner and was just plain mean to anyone but them#in a way that just tormented your soul because if you could just get that cat to somehow tolerate you.....#..... it might mean you were incredibly special#i mean i know that sounds dumb but that was the feeling. that became a minor goal in life to everyone who met him#he wasn't special otherwise by any means#she swears he was very human like but no I've raised 40+ cats in my life (17 of them live with me now)#he was a normal cat he was just very very beautiful and very spoiled and#if you spend enough time with any mammal you both learn each others patterns and that is a bonding experience for both so i get it#he got squamos cell carcinoma so far back on his tongue that they couldn't even operate on it#and like I said I've raised 40+ cats as well as dogs and birdsâ death is a part of pet ownership I've accepted thatâ I'm very okay with it#but I spent more money on three different specialists trying to treat him.....#.....than i have ever spent combined on every other cat I've owned for the last 25 years#and that's not admitting I don't take my cats to the vet#every cat I have ever owned gets neutered/spayedâ vaccinatedâ and flea meds at the MINIMUM#it's admitting I spent more money treating him than some people spend on student loans#and i mean most of it was because as strongly as I felt for him I knew she felt a trillion times stronger#there was nothing she wouldn't have done for him#i think my heart broke the worst when we were putting him down and she sobbed 'how am i going to live without you' like i was a stranger#she would have easily plunged a knife in my gut if she was certain it would save his life#i can't fathom feeling that strongly for a pet and yet I'm quietly crying in my truck because i miss his stupid face#though now that i typed it all out maybe the truth is.................. you know what nevermind#will probably delete this tomorrow who tf knows#op#ranting
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the hat rule. (e.m. x fem!reader)
the hat rule (n.): you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.
summary: when eddie dresses up as a cowboy to a night out with friends, you decide to steal his hat.
pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings: reader is described to be wearing a dress. reader is also dressed up as a black cat. premise is everyone is wearing 'slutty' costumes. overuse of pet names. public teasing, unprotected sex, choking kink, oral (f receiving), ass slapping. 18+.
wc: 13.3k+
happy early valentine's day, babes. shout out to @hellfire--cult for beta reading, as well as @andvys for giving me this idea to begin with.
If someone had told you last week that youâd be attending a slutty costume themed night at a club tonight, you would have laughed in their face.
And yet here you were, at Steve Harringtonâs apartment, donned in a black cat costume that shows more skin than you have in years.
The elaborate plan had sparked on a random day after Steve encountered a flyer for the event. It was a nightclub your group had attended before, and one look at the line free drinks for participants had Steve running down your entire group to insist that you all needed to dress up, to participate in this, for the luxury of free Titoâs.Â
Heâd never considered that the ad might not be targeted towards the male population. And now, you were all gathering at his apartment to pregame, âslutted outâ as Robin had so kindly put it â men included.
Nancy pulled out some sort of angel costume she claims she had bought but certainly not worn a few years back, Robin had conglomerated an alluring pirate attire from items you hadnât even been aware were in her closet. Jonathan arrived in his erotic yet pensive writerâs costume (youâd hardly understood it, but he seemed confident, so you all went with it), Argyle in tow donning some sort of seductive surfer costume, in which you certainly recognized the unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts that had had a pocket knife taken to them to disregard a few inches. Steve even stuck to his own demands, going all out â a sensual bunny costume.
And then, there was Eddie.
Eddie fuckinâ Munson.Â
âPick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart,â he teases as he shuffles around you in the kitchen to grab a drink, âGonna start catching flies otherwise.âÂ
âThereâs a joke in there somewhere about how sweet I am, right?â you blandly reply, keeping your eyes on your room temp cocktail that Steve had so graciously mixed for you upon your arrival, âSomething where you call me honey or sugar, yeah?âÂ
Eddie pauses, bottle of vodka in hand, looking at you with big eyes lined in coal, âOh, baby, you know me so well.âÂ
âCut the pet names, Munson.â
You try to scowl. You really do. But you donât mean a damn word you say.Â
Sweetheart. Baby. Hell, even honey would have done it for you when he was wearing that costume.Â
Tight leather pants, flared at the ankle. Worn leather boots that certainly had to have been thrifted, clicking with each of his steps. A cow print vest, and just a vest, over what looked to be an oiled chest.Â
And that fucking hat smashing down his curls, adding a shadow across his face that only built into the illusion.Â
You hate him. You hate this stupid party. You hate Steve for ever suggesting this.Â
âYou donât mean that,â he sing-songs as he pours his own drink into a red solo cup. The vodka mixes with cranberry juice, you think, before heâs dropping a few ice cubes out of the freezer. âOr maybe you do, and I should try saying them with a southern drawl,â Fuck, he does a good southern accent. Slow and syrupy sweet, molasses down the throat as he flutters his lashes at you, âThat better, darlinâ?âÂ
You pluck the thin black straw that had been added to your cup for flare, probably stolen from a hotel at some point by Steve and positively meant for drinks of the coffee variety, and flick it in his direction without hesitation.Â
âTerrible,â you flatly lie, âCowboys arenât even from the south, idiot. Theyâre from the West.âÂ
You have no desire to hear Eddieâs Western accent. No desire to hear Texan twang on those lips, putting on his best John Wayne impression. In fact, the faster you can get away from him, the quicker you can get yourself under control.Â
It had always been this way between you and Eddie. Push and pull. Will they, wonât they. A game of cosmic shores as the two of you toed at each otherâs orbits and bantered effortlessly. Flirtatious threats, inappropriate compliments, lewd innuendos â you had done it all, specifically with Eddie.
Thatâs just how the friendship worked.Â
The friendship.Â
Friend. Nothing more, nothing less.Â
Eddie wonât leave you alone, though, choosing to lean up against the counter beside you, forcing his way into your peripherals, âDamn. Youâre right. Wayne would kill me if he knew I mixed that up.âÂ
âOh, I think he has plenty of reasons to knock some sense into you.âÂ
âYeah?â he leans forward, tauntingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, âWhy donât you do it for him? I think Iâd like a slap more coming from you, honestly.â
Heâs acting like he always does. This is normal. The fact that his entire torso is on show and you canât stop staring at the way his tattoo on his peck is shimmering doesnât change that.Â
You play the role, knowing your part well as you lean in as well, forcing a smile right back at him, âWanna kiss my knuckles before I do it, or am I gonna have to do all the hard work here?âÂ
âOh, trust me, youâd never have to do all the work with me, ba-â
âCan you two get a fucking room?â Robin interrupts as she enters the room, clearly coming in for a refill but getting more than she bargained for.Â
Youâre aflame with the shame and embarrassment, feeling it lick from your ankles up to your throat, as Eddie only chuckles lowly.Â
âSorry, Robs,â Eddie chirps, not sounding apologetic at all, âI promise Iâll behave myself the rest of the night.âÂ
And yet, despite the words youâre hearing him say out loud, he does the exact opposite.Â
Thereâs no real need for him to do it. Thereâs plenty of space amongst the kitchen for him to maneuver his way out without laying a single hand on you â and yet he still fucking does.Â
His palm is shockingly warm when it curls around your hip, his other hand occupied with a drink, encouraging you to move a step forward so that he can brush behind you far too close for comfort. You nearly stumble over himself as he does it. The feeling of his barren chest barely bumping your bare shoulder blades sends your mind reeling, and his staple rings that have incorporated into his costume press right through the thin fabric of your dress.
Your breathing stops entirely as he pauses, the slightest bit of skin still brushing against yours, and leans in with a boyish grin, âWeâll both be on our best behavior tonight â right, kitty?âÂ
Something clicks in your mind. The way the nickname rolls off his tongue as heâs looking at you with eyes flaming with mischief, hand lingering on your hip for far too long.Â
Your eyes flicker up to the hat on his head, and you smile slowly, meeting his toying gaze, âRight, cowboy.â
Best behavior, your ass. Tonight, you have decided, ends the will they, wonât they of it all.Â
Itâs about to either be the best night of your life, or the worst.Â
â
Another shot with Nancy. Another smoke with Argyle. Another adjusting of Steveâs corset when he complains he canât breathe (he certainly can, but youâre starting to think he just likes the attention). The pregaming continues on as more of Steveâs friends from work show up, the apartment slowly beginning to buzz with the chatter of more strangers than you can count on one hand.
Youâre not even at the club yet and youâre already regretting your revealing attire.
Eddie stays mostly preoccupied with his own devices, and only gets scolded a handful of times by Nancy. You can hear every lewd joke he makes, of course. At some point, you make a private drinking game out of it; a sip for every time he makes the stereotypical joke of âsave a horse, ride a cowboyâ.Â
Well, it was a sip the first time. A slightly larger gulp the second time. A chugging of half your drink the third time.Â
âThereâs no fucking way,â Steve laments at the table the boys as well as a few guests you donât recognize have taken over for a game of strip poker, âJonathan is cheating. Or counting cards.â
âI concur,â Eddie mutters around his cigarette, scowling at his losing hand.Â
âYouâre also cheating, asshole. This is the first round youâve lost the entire game.â
âOr maybe Iâm just really good at cards, Harrington.âÂ
âOh, yeah? Well, maybe Iâm really good at-â
âHeâs not cheating,â Nancy interrupts with a sigh from the couch, lounging as sheâs served as a referee of sorts for the group. Her entire body weight is draped against Robin, and youâre certainly not going to comment on Robinâs hands toying with her permed locks, âStop being a sore loser and just strip.âÂ
You get why Steve was the most upset. He was down to his underwear and socks, corset tossed somewhere far behind him and bunny ears placed on Robinâs head in place of her pirate hat that she had claimed became too warm.Â
âI think Steve should trade both socks and put back on the bunny ears,â she quips as she reaches up for the headband, flicking at one of the floppy ears, âHeâd look cuter that way.âÂ
âFuck off,â he snaps, throwing up a middle finger as Argyle finally loses his shirt.Â
When your attention has drifted, you know he did exactly that, though.Â
The game had been boring you half to death, honestly. Watching Steve strip without fail every round, hearing the loud cheers from Argyle when he managed to win a few rounds in a row and exclaimed it was a turkey (it had taken a ten minute intermission to explain to him that was bowling, not poker), watching a few of the girls that Steve had invited fawn over him as they carefully removed boots and gloves when they lost â none of it sparked your interest. The only saving grace had been every smug look Eddie offered as heâd win, time and time again. So far, heâd only lost his boots.Â
He was hot when he was cocky. There was no way around it.
And now, as he carefully pondered as to which part of his precious costume to part with, you were on the edge of your seat. He was lovely and enticing when he was excited, when he was jubilant with victory, but as a sore loser?Â
Dear God, Eddie Munson was a gorgeous specimen with a pout on his lips.Â
âTrying to decide what to take off, Munson?â Jonathan notices the way Eddie is hesitating, even through the offset of conversations that had sparked up in the brief pause amongst the growing group.
You lean forward on the couch, almost subconsciously.Â
You donât care what Stacy from Steveâs job thinks of their manager or the latest drama ongoing there, and Steve would probably agree with you if it werenât for Stacyâs all-red, latex Devil costume.
Eddie scoffs, waving a hand over his attire, âObviously. You know, itâs not easy to choose when you have a costume as damn good as mine.âÂ
âWhat? Donât think youâll be as pretty without your hat?â you decide to contribute to the teasing, shocking yourself in the process.Â
The last thing you should do when youâre staring him down in this way, is bring attention to yourself. And yet you were, like some fucking idiot with a death wish.Â
âYou think Iâm pretty?â
Itâs the fluttering of his lashes as he says it that gives you the courage. They match all that fluttering in your stomach, all that buzzing across your nerves. Because â yeah, you thought he was real fucking pretty. Youâd spent the last half hour imagining how pretty heâd look in all sorts of places, too, especially between your sheets and between your thighs.Â
Youâre up off the couch, taking confident steps towards where heâs seated at the ground on the other side of the coffee table. Itâs a little inconvenient now, but it had been a blessing in disguise for most of the game as youâd had a front row seat to the sight of him.Â
âOh, donât get ahead of yourself,â you tease, entirely ignoring that lightheaded feeling you get anytime Eddie looks up at you this way. Half-lidded eyes, crooked grin. Heâs dangerous and he doesnât even know it, âI only meant you were pretty with the hat.âÂ
âYou wound me,â he gasps, dropping back on his hands dramatically, his pout now for dramatics rather than genuine, âGonna stand there and tell me Iâm not pretty when I dressed up just for you?â
You have to take a deep breath to compose yourself, cross your arms to steady your guard, âJust for me?âÂ
He was playing that same old, tired game of yours. The same dance the two of you had memorized the steps to â and something inside of you has grown restless of it. You donât want to keep skirting around each other with double-meaning jokes, you donât want to keep painting humor over your flirtatious remarks. You want a damn answer to the age old question of will they, wonât they?
And you want that answer to be will they â terribly, terribly so.
His eyes trail along the room slowly, not avoiding you but trying to draw out the anticipation in you as he sucks in a breath, âOkay, and maybe for Steve. And Nancy. And Argyle. And Jonathan. And- Well, Iâd say Robin, but I donât think sheâs looked twice in my direction all night.âÂ
âI havenât,â the brunette chirps happily from the couch, still letting the weight of Nancy comfortably dig into her.Â
You have no idea how sheâs tuned into the conversation, given the way most of everyone else around the room was entirely ignoring the two of you.Â
âSo,â you all but purr, leaning down to be more level with Eddie. You already know where his focus wanders when his eyes donât meet yours, âNot just for me, cowboy.âÂ
Heâs distracted, staring at your chest as you notice him slip up in his brave facade for a second. Almost as though youâve gone too far, pushed the limits a bit too hard. Good. You want to break this. You want to shatter whatever cage the two of you have built.
In one smooth movement, your hand reaches out and snatches the hat right off his head.Â
He lets out a yelp and tries to grab it away from you, but you have the advantage as you stand up straight once more. Your free hand reaches up and tears off the cat ears you had donned, and in their place, the hat is deposited.Â
It fits you a little big, and you nearly make a joke about the size of Eddieâs head.Â
âHey!â he argues, moving as though he might stand up and put up more of a fight, âI didnât say the hat is what I wanted to take off.âÂ
âTook too long,â you shrug innocently.Â
âYeah, well, just carefully add it to the pile,â he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, towards his boots, as he relaxes back into his recline.
You should probably behave yourself.Â
âNo.â
But this is more fun.Â
Eddieâs eyebrows shoot up in shot, disappearing behind the bangs that are flattened far more than usual. The entire crown of his head is absolutely crushed. No sign of his usual frizzy roots and unruly volume, âNo?â
âNo,â you confirm a second time.Â
And youâre done with this game of back and forth.Â
The hatâs staying on your head. It smells ever so faintly of his shampoo, the slightest whiff of his cologne even, and itâs staying on your head for the exact reason he believes is about to be a gotcha! moment.
âOh, sweetheart,â heâs just tipsy enough that heâs not putting on any specific accent. Instead, his natural Appalachian accent inherited from his uncle begins to break the surface, âSurely you know about the hat rule.âÂ
Damn right, you know about the hat rule.
You cross your arms, huff a little, tilt the hat for effect, âThe hat rule? Please, enlighten me.âÂ
âYou wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.âÂ
Perfect.Â
You donât even attempt any sort of surprised act. No exaggerated gasps, no fumbling to remove the hat. You knew all about this rule, and it had been one of the first things to come to mind when youâd seen him enter this damn party with the hat on.Â
âYeah?â you question, mocking raising your eyebrows at best, âHm. What a shame.â
And then you turn on your heel, not awaiting a single response from Eddie as you escape to the kitchen.
You almost wish you would have stayed an extra second to properly witness his reaction. Thereâs no doubt in your mind that heâs gone pretty and pink, a flustered mess for at least a second as low laughter sounds from the rest of your friends. A tell-tale snort from Robin, and a silent cackle from Nancy. You swear you even pick up on one of the extra guests muttering a confused what just happened? that goes entirely unanswered.
Strip poker doesnât continue on for long after that.
You refill your drink, this time sans the alcohol, and return to find Steve has officially begun to call for cabs to the club. He busies away on his phone as everyone debates whoâs riding with who, the entire party slowly coming to life as everyone stands to prepare to leave for the main attraction.Â
When you meet Eddieâs gaze from across the room, the shadow of the brim of his hat cutting into your vision a little, his cheeks match the cranberry juice in your cup.Â
Good.Â
â
The ride to the club is a blur, and all that really stands out to you is that Eddie makes sure he does not ride in the same cab as you.
Which is fine. Really. It doesnât cause a single spark of panic in your chest. Not one.Â
Youâre definitely not working yourself up over the thought that your plan is crumbling right before your eyes, that youâve gone too far and entirely misinterpreted everything Eddie has ever done during your entire friendship. Youâre not mulling over every dirty joke, not dissecting every single line that felt like he was flirting with you and attempting to look at it with fresh eyes. No, the entire ride to the club, you are definitely not beating a dead horse dead.Â
Maybe you should have set off to ride the dead horse and not the cowboy. Maybe, then, Eddie would have gotten into the fucking cab with you.Â
Your anxieties only worsen once you get inside the club. Pulsing beneath your skin, right in rhythm with the music. Your entire group had each been handed a drink ticket on your way in, and you had noted the fact that the girls of the group were slipped extra tickets.Â
Nancy had given all her tickets to Robin, and Steve had given his singular ticket to Stacy.Â
âSo,â Robin runs up to your side, Nancy not far behind, âDo we waste our drink tickets on shots or real drinks?âÂ
âReal drinks,â you immediately reply, eyes scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain head of curly hair, âShots are⊠well, they can be cheap. We can just avoid the top-shelf shit.â
Was Eddie really going to ignore you the entire night?Â
He needed his hat. He couldnât ignore you the entire night.Â
âYouâre right,â Robin shuffles the drink tickets in her hands, turning to Nancy, âOn a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be me to ask you to flirt with men to get me-â
âGive me ten minutes and Iâll have us a round.âÂ
Nancyâs smile is sweet, courteous, as she gives Robinâs shoulder a squeeze on her way past her.Â
Where the fuck is Eddie?Â
âDid you see where the guys ran off to?â you blurt out. Most of the guys, aside from Steve, took the same cab.Â
Robin also joins you in a quick survey of the club, lifting onto her tippy toes to squint over the current light show, âHonestly? I have no idea.âÂ
Fuck.Â
As she drops back down onto her heels, Robin looks at you knowingly, eyes flicking up between your twisted expression and the hat on your head.Â
âTrying to find a certain cowboy?âÂ
âWhat?â you look at her, already defensive, even if it was stupid at this point. Who cares if everyone knows you have a crush on Eddie? Who cares if everyone finds out the very foundations of your friendship with him were built upon quite a bit of truth? âI mean- yeah, he kind of needs his hat to complete his outfit.âÂ
âShould have just given him your ears for an even trade,â Robin shrugs, clinging to your elbow to avoid getting separated as a few bodies push past the two of you, âIâm sure heâll pop up soon enough, though. Besides, I donât think anyoneâs too focused on what everyoneâs costumes are as long as theyâre⊠wellâŠâ
âSlutted out,â you finish for her flatly, trying to not get jealous as your eyes look across the sweaty crowd, stomach churning as you wonder how many other sexy black cats in the crowd would be approaching your cowboy.Â
You fucked up. You shouldnât have taken his hat.Â
âExactly!â sheâs excited, unaware of your crisis, already moving along from the topic as she spots Nancy somewhere near the bar top, âLook, free shots!âÂ
The free shots donât do much to quell your unease, but free alcohol is always nice.
You take the liquid down, burn and all, more than willingly. And then again, not even five minutes later when Nancy has caught the attention of another random man at the end of the bar. You almost partake in a third, but you finally hear a familiar voice saying a far too familiar joke.Â
âYou know what they say,â heâs flirting â heâs using a tone of voice that he has never used with you, and itâs clear heâs fucking flirting, âSave a horse, ride a cowboy.âÂ
Instead of continuing your drinking game from Steveâs apartment, you slam the shot back down and mutter some sorry excuse of being right back to Robin and Nancy before taking off in the direction of Eddie.
Heâs stood a few stools down at the bar, hands leaning against the worn wood as his arms bracket a pretty blonde. It almost looks as if the line might be working on her.Â
âIf youâre a cowboy,â she giggles, and you almost stop dead in your tracks, âThen whereâs your hat?âÂ
Well, thatâs as good of a queue for your arrival if any.Â
âGood question,â you pipe up as you take a few brave steps towards him, âWhere is your hat, cowboy?âÂ
Youâd expected him to be angry, or startled, or possibly even immediately take off running in the opposite direction of you. He doesnât.Â
He slowly turns, and his flirtatious smile has turned into more of a salacious grin as he faces you, âWell, well, well. Nice of you to join us, Kitty.âÂ
The blonde looks between you two a few times before shimmying down off her stool, âI thinkâŠ. Iâm gonna go. Nice to meet you, cowboy.â
You expect Eddie to react, but he hardly does. A quick glance in her direction, a pathetic wave.Â
Youâve just trampled over one of his chances of getting properly lucky tonight, and he isnât even phased.Â
âBeen lookinâ for you,â you mumble, looking over him. His hair seems to have been unstuck from his scalp a little, at least. As though he may have been running his hands through it repeatedly, âThought you might have gone home without your hat.âÂ
âNot a chance. I havenât forgotten about the rule, you know.âÂ
Something twists in you, deep in your gut, between your hips.Â
âNo?â you hold your breath as he leans in a bit closer to you to be able to hear over the music, âGood thing I havenât either.âÂ
He tilts his head, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights, âYou havenât? Then that means youâll be giving it back, right?âÂ
Over my dead body.Â
Youâre on a mission tonight. Youâll either be ending this night in sore disappointment, drinking away your sorrows of rejection, or youâll be ending up in a bed with Eddie. Itâs up to him.Â
You lift a hand to the worn rim, tugging it a bit more securely onto your head, âNot a chance, Munson. You know where to find me once youâre done playing around.â
As soon as your fingers leave the rim, holding tense eye contact with him, his own hand is coming up. You tense, worried heâs about to steal the hat back now, but he doesnât. Instead, his fingers pinch the same spot yours just had, slow tracing over the rim as his tongue darts out to carefully wet his bottom lip.Â
From the front point, around to the side. When he reaches the bit above your ear, his touch drops to your cheek and tucks back some of the baby hairs sticking to your skin with sweat.Â
âI do, donât I?â he hums, voice dropping a bit lower, focused entirely on you. âI donât think Iâm the one playing around right now, though, Kitty.âÂ
Does he think youâre joking? Does he actually, genuinely think this is all a game to you?Â
You nearly make the decision to grab him right there, right at this moment, and shatter all the tension. Get his lips on yours and drag him into the darkest corner just to prove to him how serious you truly were.Â
Suddenly, his hand drops away from you entirely, and you almost want to whine. You miss that warmth, that feathery caress, until it aches. âItâs okay, though. Always knew cats were playful things.âÂ
Is there a dark corner somewhere near you two? Is there a dark hallway to drag him into? Just enough shadow to cover all the sins youâre desperate to commit, just enough light to see that blush rise across his cheeks again.Â
âIâm not playing,â you whisper, eyes drifting down to his hand cradling a glass. Something deep and russet, just like his eyes. Likely whiskey. You wonder if youâd be able to taste it all over his tongue before you had him putting it to work where you need him most right now. âWhenever you get that through your big head, come find me.âÂ
âBig head?â he throws his head back in a laugh, and the tension mists away in seconds. âWho says I have a big head?âÂ
âI do, as the one wearing your hat,â you readjust it for emphasis.Â
You thought the tension had misted away until heâs smirking, tsking a little, âOh, thought you meant the other one.âÂ
Itâs a replay of the scene in Steveâs apartment, but this time, the roles are reversed. Youâre the one left in shock, mouth agape, as Eddie spins around and walks away, leaving you to sit with what heâs just said.Â
âBastard,â you breathe out as you watch him disappear in the crowd, eyes locked on his broad shoulders until one too many bodies separate the two of you.Â
A bastard you want awfully, terribly, bad.Â
â
You wish you could say you threw back drink, after drink, after drink. You wish you could say you danced with a hundred different beautiful strangers, and each one strayed your mind farther from Eddie.Â
You wish you could say you did anything but what the reality of your night had been.
A few men had approached you, only to be turned down repeatedly. Most of your night was spent all but moping at the bar, eyes diligently scanning the bouncing crowd for a certain curly haired figure that seemed to escape you. One moment, youâd catch him pressed against a flirty stranger, hands holding onto whatever bare skin was available to him. And then, his eyes would find yours, and there would be a spark; a wink, a smile, a whisper across a bustling room daring you to come out and play with him.Â
You never did. Youâd look away, take a sip of your plain coke, and wait a few seconds until it was safe to look back and find him seemingly vanished.Â
That in itself had started to become a game. Just like the hat, weighing heavy on your head.Â
Youâre starting to accept that maybe you had just been a bit too brave. Youâd jumped the gun, flown feet first into cold and ragged waters you werenât prepared to navigate. You knew you wanted a change with Eddie, but were you ready? If you had been, you would have accepted one of his various invites. Would have strode across the room, shoved away whatever man or woman he was dancing with, and slotted yourself into their place. You would have been swaying your hips in rhythm with his rather than allowing him to cycle through strangers, and youâd be reminding him that you wore his hat.Â
Youâd be the one bringing up the hat rule to him consistently, not him to you.Â
When the night begins to wane, youâve already talked yourself out of it all.Â
âIâm heading out,â you announce to Robin when she finally returns back to where youâve sat at the bar to babysit their drinks, hopping down from the stool before she could argue, âIâm getting way too tired.âÂ
âWhat?â your friend gasps, face pink from the heat of being in the crowd, a shimmering sheen of sweat across her forehead, âNo! Stay! We can take turns watching the drinks, or just-â
âRobs,â you smile as sweetly as possible, patting yourself down to make sure you have all your belongings. A whistle sounds from a group down the way at the bar, and you ignore them, âItâs seriously okay. Youâre having fun! Iâm just a senior citizen who needs some sleep. My bedtime was likeâŠ. An hour ago.âÂ
You highly doubt youâll be getting any rest when you return to your apartment. Maybe some confidence can be built out of fantasies, letting your hands wander and sheets catch fire with all that could have been if you hadnât talked yourself out of your perfect plan.Â
Maybe, imagining Eddieâs hot hands on you rather than getting to properly feel them will light a damn fire under your ass for the next opportunity that arises.Â
âIâŠâ she sighs, glancing over her shoulder in the general direction of Nancy, âOkay, fine. But do we want to do brunch or something tomorrow?âÂ
Not a chance, you think rather quickly, eyes scanning once more for the metal-head-turned-cowboy. Not if Eddieâs going to be there.
âSure,â you lie, already knowing he will be there, âJust text me.âÂ
With that, you make your grand escape.Â
Borrowed hat on head, phone in hand, you push your way out of the club with a newfound determination. You want to get home and take off this uncomfortable dress, finally do away with the thigh highs that have been rolling down at the most inconvenient of times, driving you insane the entire night. Trade the sexy attire for something comfy â stay true to the cat essence as you curl up beneath your blankets for the night. Hang that damn cowboy hat on your door as a cursed reminder-
âWhere do you think youâre going, Kitty?âÂ
You stop a few feet short of the curb, a cab ordered as you turn to find that bastard leaning against the wall. Cigarette smoke is still clinging to the air around him as he looks at you curiously.Â
âHome,â you shrug, trying to ignore your pounding heart. Youâd figured you wouldnât see him again tonight, that your fate had been sealed. âWhat are you doing out here?âÂ
âSmoke break,â he lifts his hand with the cigarette pinched between two fingers casually, pushing off the wall to come closer, âItâs hard work, keeping you entertained all night.âÂ
You scoff, falling back into whatâs almost a normal rhythm for you two, âYou were not the one keeping me entertained all night.âÂ
âI hardly saw you dance with anyone at all.âÂ
âI did!â you try to defend yourself, deciding this could be fine. Some casual conversation as you wait for your ride, a way to pass the time. This is fine. âRobin dragged me out into the crowd at least twice.âÂ
âI watched you swat a guyâs hands away not once, but three times.âÂ
âUnsolicited touching isnât a compliment. He should have taken the hint the first time.âÂ
Eddie nods in eager agreement, taking another drag of his cigarette, âDamn right. If he had gone in for a fourth try, I was considering dragging him out here for an early smoke break.âÂ
âWhy do I highly doubt it would just be a smoke break?â you question, glancing at him with a smile. Scandalous plans aside for the night, embarrassment swallowed down whole, itâs nice to remember that Eddie is a friend. Albeit a bit flirty, and capable of driving you fucking insane, but heâs a friend.
And maybe that isnât the worst thing in the world.Â
âOh, no, yeah. Youâd be posting my bail.â
âWhy me?â
âBecause youâve got my hat, â he reaches out and flicks the brim with his free hand, and you freeze up a little. You had hoped he wouldnât mention it again, âKind of makes me your problem until the end of the night. Speaking ofâŠ.âÂ
You already know what heâs about to request as he trails off. This is it. You either give up the bit, hand the hat back over, and go home for the night â or you make one final attempt to get what you had wanted.
Eddie. You wanted Eddie, as more than a friend.Â
âIâm gonna need that back, sweetheart.â
At least heâs asking politely, you consider, before it hits you why heâs asking rather than taking.Â
The looks across the room. The way heâd been unbothered by the girl heâd been flirting with running off at your appearance. The way he never just took back that fucking hat when heâd been provided ample opportunity.Â
He thinks itâs a game for you, and keeps bringing it up, because it isnât for him. Heâs giving you one last chance to back out, or to stand your ground. To say you really want this.Â
And fuck, you really want this.Â
âNope,â you lean into his space, pressing closer, fully committed. Your phone dings with the notification of your ride approaching, and you fully ignore it. âMy hat now, cowboy.âÂ
He quirks an eyebrow, and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you. Your ride. âIs that so?âÂ
âYep.â
Another ding, another buzz of your phone.
Go ahead. Bring up the hat rule.Â
âThat your ride?â he asks, tilting his chin in the direction of the car.Â
You glance over your shoulder, âPretty sure it is, yeah.âÂ
âAnd you remember the hat rule?âÂ
Your stomach twists with excitement. Your previous pity party is long forgotten â youâre still hoping to get out of this dress, but you highly doubt youâll be slipping anything on after it. âI do.â
âGreat,â those hot hands youâd been fantasizing about the entire night suddenly reach out to you, gripping your hips tightly as he tugs you into his body. You collide with his chest as he leans down and whispers in your ear, âIn that case, thatâs my pussy now.âÂ
His lips linger against the shell of your ear an extra second, warm breath sending chills up your spine before heâs keeping an arm around your shoulders as he guides you to the car. His cologne and the scent of tobacco is suffocating, and you crave to drown in it. You want him to consume you; you want him to take over every breath you breathe, every move you make, to finally get those hot hands and lips everywhere youâve only dreamt of.Â
You barely hear him confirm with the driver that it is in fact your ride â you can only focus on that hand on your lower back, palm heavy on you as his thumb traces arcs that nearly spend you spiraling.Â
âAfter you, kitty,â he murmurs, motioning for you to slide into the backseat first.Â
In that case, thatâs my pussy now.
You hope he ruins you.Â
In the backseat of the ride, itâs all polite distance and hands to yourself. You canât even make eye contact with the driver, terrified he might be able to mindread and see all the filthy thoughts racing through your head.Â
Eddie between your thighs, mouthing at your hips.Â
Eddie hovering over you, pulling your knees to your chest as he stretches you out.Â
Eddie, proving that your pussy is in fact his for the night. That it was made for him, sculpted out to fit the curvature and every single vein of him.Â
Eddie simply fucking your brains out.Â
Some polite conversation is exchanged, mostly between Eddie and the driver. The classic questioning of how the night has gone, small talk that buzzes in your ears mindlessly.Â
The entire time, you can see Eddieâs hand in the space between you two, fingers tapping away at dark leather incessantly. His rings shimmer like a siren calling to you.Â
Itâs a small movement, when your own hand drops near his. You keep your eyes trained forward once you begin your mission, inching your pinky closer and closer until it finally collides with his. You swear, you feel him fully jump out of his seat.Â
Slowly warming the water, you start off simple â playing with his fingers. Gentle caresses over his knuckles, little pricks to the pads of his fingers. He tries to capture your hand in his, but you have bigger plans at play here.Â
Youâve spent the entire fucking night waiting for this. Youâre going to have fun with it.Â
He huffs after you deter his second attempt at properly holding hands, his knees falling apart a little further. You twist at the ring on his middle finger, a clunky skull youâve always admired. It has minimal signs of wear, probably pure silver if you had to guess, and you can only imagine how cold itâs going to feel against your skin.Â
You can only imagine the imprints itâll leave if he grabs your hips just right.Â
âYou know,â the driver hums mindlessly over the low volume of the radio, âYou guys are my first ride of the night, surprisingly. Thought it might be busier with all the parties and clubs, but I think itâs just barely picking up now.â
âYeah?â Eddie asks politely, nodding as he looks out his window. Perfect, âI think youâre right. It is getting pretty late-â
Heâs entirely distracted, your hand out of his line of sight as it moves in on its target.Â
His thigh.Â
Just a few inches above his knee, your hand grips at what is clearly sensitive flesh. You watch his entire body turn to stone when you do it, and he moves his head quickly to look in your direction.Â
Youâre looking straight ahead.Â
There had been a time, a few weeks ago, where youâd learned Eddie had⊠sensitive knees. Youâd been joking around about one thing or another, and when your palms had gripped at them through the torn fabric of ripped jeans, heâd nearly launched himself across the room. He just kept insisting they were ticklish, that that skin was just delicate.
Youâd seen the tent in his jeans then. Youâd just been a bit more polite, a bit better behaved that day.Â
âWhat are you doing?â he hisses in a whisper, reaching for your hand, but youâre quick to slide it even higher.Â
His hips jump a little, and the driver is none the wiser.Â
âNothing,â you innocently say, still looking ahead, watching the passing streetlights with intense interest. âAbsolutely nothing at all.âÂ
The entire ride, at every red light, your hand inches higher.Â
And every time, you relish the way he squirms in your peripherals.
By the time youâre five minutes out from your place, youâve riled him up to impossible heights. Every little noise has him on edge, constant twitching and shifting in his seat as he tries to get you to just look at him. You know heâs catching every sly smile that attempts to creep up on your lips â youâre pathetically failing at every turn to cover them up.Â
You think you have him like putty in your palms as you give yet another squeeze to his thigh, fingers starting to dance up even higher. When your eyes flicker to his crotch for just a second, you see him straining against that tight leather.Â
And then he flips the script.Â
Youâre so focused on your own goals, you never see that ringed hand creep to your own thigh. Itâs not until cool metal nips at you, briefly, before you feel the warmth of his hand overtake, that you realize the predicament youâve gotten into.Â
Just as your hand was beginning to skim over his crotch, Eddieâs hand found solace between the meat of your thighs. Even as you try to clench them together, deny him the access he was seeking out, he finds his way in. Scandalous fingers dipping under the hem of your dress, fighting fire with fire when he lets his middle finger brush across the fabric of your underwear.Â
Your touch from him nearly retracts entirely.Â
âWhat?â he leans in closer to you, the driver still focused on the road, âDonât like a taste of your own medicine?â
As he says it, his fingers dip lower. Hovering right over your protected clit, making your entire abdomen clench.Â
You swallow hard, a bit of your jagged pride somewhere amongst the spit as you turn your head to look at him, âI donât know what you mean.âÂ
âStill playing games I see.âÂ
In sync, the two of you lock eyes as you continue to test waters. You apply pressure with your palm and note the way his breathing hitches, and he draws a feather-light circle around the wet patch forming in your underwear. You can feel your bottom lip quiver as you try to refuse to give him any satisfaction, but when heâs this close, itâs a hopeless battle.
When had he gotten so near you? What happened to all that static distance from when youâd first crawled into the backseat?
Youâre trying to only focus on your own hand. Eyes darting to guarantee the driver is still oblivious as you roll the heel of your hand harder against the seam of his pants, and biting your lip to hold back a successful grin when he has to cover a gasp with a cough. Itâs all fun and games until the action is rewarded with his payback; his knuckle curling up against your cunt through your panties, pressing in hard before slowly sliding his way up, up, up.Â
He deliberately stops when he catches on your clit, and youâre the one coughing now.Â
âHad enough?â he mutters under his breath, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He looks good in this lighting, flashes of the streetlights bathing him in soft yellow, headlights of other cars fluttering in through the windshield as they hit his brown eyes just right to bronze them.Â
âNever.â
You almost think youâve won when his knuckle pulls back.Â
But suddenly, his entire hand is cupping your cunt, two fingers pressing against your fluttering hole as another drags up your slit slowly once more. This time, when he reaches your clit, he continues moving in small circles.Â
You have to bite your lip to hold back any noises, eyes closing for just a second as you hear him huff out a laugh.Â
The final damnation is when he brings his lips to your bare shoulder, merely grazing your skin with them as he mumbles, âYou sure about that, Kitty?âÂ
You clench around nothing, and you know when he feels it from where his fingers remain pressed against you. His own hand twitches as the finger circling your clit stutters for a moment.Â
âI-â
âWeâre here!â the driver says, not having looked into the backseat yet as he finds a safe place to pull the car into. In an instant, you and Eddie remove your hands from each other. Youâre both visibly flustered â you can feel how warm your cheeks have gotten, and you can see clouds of pink splattering over Eddieâs chest and neck.Â
âThanks,â Eddie is the one to speak up as the car comes to a halt, not even waiting for the driver to put the vehicle in park as he throws the door open.Â
A bit rushed, but still polite as ever before heâs grabbing you by your bicep to pull you out of the cramped space right along with him.Â
You can hardly muster a weak wave to the man as Eddie is dragging you towards your apartment building, knees still a bit weak and mind still blank after getting a taste of your own medicine, as Eddie had put it.Â
He doesnât let go of you until youâre at your front door, those cursed shaking hands of yours fumbling with your key ring.Â
âHere, let me-â he starts to offer, reaching for the keys that continue to clank together, just as you find the one youâre looking for.Â
âIâve got it-â you try to cut him off, just as you drop the fucking keys in your haste. âShit.âÂ
You quickly drop to the ground to grab them, pausing once you have the metal digging into your palms once more. Thereâs no real reason for you to do it, but you do â you take a second to look up at Eddie from this position, and nearly drool at the sight of it.
Him, standing over you, still a bit flushed and still visibly uncomfortable in his pants. Pretty curls a mess and lips darkening from how much heâs been biting them.Â
You want him to ruin you. You want him to absolutely, entirely and utterly destroy you.
âDonât look at me like that,â he laughs, chest heaving a bit as he watches you carefully, pupils slowly growing in the dim light of your buildingâs hallway.Â
You can see his bare torso clenching, the twitch of his hands at his sides â the same fingers that had just been caressing you over your underwear in the backseat of a strangerâs car.Â
âLike what?â youâre dragging out the moment, taking time to appreciate the sight of him.Â
âLike you want me to just press you up against the wall and fuck you out here, for everyone to see.âÂ
Thatâs a new one. Thatâs a vision that hadnât come to you in all your dirtiest dreams of the night.Â
It sends your clit throbbing.Â
You rise slowly, pushing the hat back a bit to see him better, keeping your voice quiet so your neighbors wonât hear as you ask, âWould you? If I asked nicely?âÂ
He doesnât let out a laugh, but a breath of air, like youâve just sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs.Â
No need to say it â you know he would. You probably wouldnât even have to ask nicely.Â
Youâre staring at him when he finally moves, one hand snatching your keys out of your hand and the other gripping you around the waist. Back to pulling you, man-handling you to get you right where he wants you â where he needs you.Â
One second, youâre pressed against his body in the hallway. The next, heâs managed to unlock your front door and throw you both into the safety of your apartment.Â
Hidden from the world, and youâre still reeling as you wonder what itâd be like for the entire building to witness you calling out his name. Or him calling out your name.Â
Here within these four walls, Eddie has put some space between the two of you, staring with blown out eyes and a shaking chest as he breathes out, âSweetheart.â
A few seconds pass, the two of you just standing there, the click of the front doorâs lock being the only thing echoing in the silence. If you focused over the roar of the blood pounding in your ears, you might catch every single gasp of his as he stares in awe â but your focus is elsewhere. Far away and out of grasp for the time being. You can only think of one thing, and one thing only.Â
Your body isnât your own as you move to get exactly what you want; you drop to your knees hard enough that you should cringe at the thought of the pain that will linger, possibly for days, but it doesnât even cross your mind as your hands begin to fumble with Eddieâs pants. The oversized, gaudy belt buckle is in your way, glinting at you as if mocking the way your shaking hands canât undo it fast enough. Youâre about to give up and just start unzipping the leather pants, desperate to get your hands, and your mouth, and your eyes on him properly, when he stops you.Â
âHey,â he sounds breathless - he is breathless - as his own hands quiver a bit and grab onto yours, âHey, hey, hey. Slow down.â
Those hands let go of your wrists and reach for the hat, and youâre quick to try and swat them away only for him to grab at you, surprisingly gentle, as he drags you back up to your feet.Â
âWear the hat, ride the cowboy â right?â you insist, chin held high, your gaze refusing to waver from his.Â
His slow and buttery grin makes you lightheaded, his low chuckle sends shakes through every nerve and bone. âThatâs right, but maybe the cowboy wants to take his time. Ever think of that, hm?âÂ
Were you moving too fast? Were you going to scare him off?Â
Small, baby steps are taken by Eddie, the click of his heels shattering against your wooden floors until his hips are flush with yours.Â
And - oh.
Oh.Â
That surely didnât feel like you were scaring him off.Â
You could feel the outline of his cock, hard against your hip, as he gives a little roll. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, nostrils flaring with a hard breath, and the fear leaves as quickly as it had arrived.Â
He wants this. You want him.Â
âIâm not a very patient person,â you murmur, eyes glued to his lips now as his head leans in closer, and his hands begin to explore your body. Taking their time as they travel down your arms from where heâd held onto your biceps, slowing as they reach your wrists. Even the press of his thumb against the sensitive inner skin there sends jolts up your spine, little gasps attempting to escape your mouth.Â
His fingers tangle loosely with your own for a few moments before his palms find your hips, and he continues his journey.Â
âThatâs okay,â he whispers back, close enough now that his lips have begun to brush against your own. His nose bumps yours as his hands skate up over your ribcage, thumb sweeping out over the hill of your breast and intentionally avoiding your nipple, âI can teach you, baby.â
Your mouth finally collides with him at the words, nearly going limp in his arms at the words.Â
Youâve thought about kissing Eddie for a while now. Every time a snarky remark fell from his lips, youâd wonder how his tongue might taste afterwards. Every time heâd pout his lips at one of your comebacks, or blow a kiss teasingly in your direction from across a room, youâd wonder how hard you might have to bite down to make him bleed. Every drag of a cigarette youâd witnessed, every hard gasp in faux offense, every breathless chuckle at a joke he didnât want to find funny but did â you had spent a lot of time wondering what it might be like to steal all the air from his lungs, to kiss him until the two of you were both blue in the face.Â
âCanât the lesson wait until tomorrow?â you mumble against him as his mouth, your own fists now gripping onto the lapels of his vest. His hands have reached your shoulders, memorizing the outlines of the curve of your neck where it meets your collarbones, the slope of your chest as you take hot and heavy breaths.Â
âNope,â he insists, pulling back from the kiss, a little bit of spit on his pink lips, âBut itâs nice to know youâre thinking about tomorrow.âÂ
A hand finally finds your chin and pinches it carefully between his thumb and fingers, a careful grip on you to angle you just right so he can all but devour you. Lips, tongues, teeth â itâs a messy ordeal, and you almost make a smart-ass remark that this kiss doesnât feel very patient.Â
But you canât. Eddieâs taken away all your breaths, all your words, as he starts to guide you backwards.Â
Your knees hit the cushions of your sofa, making you jump back from him with a gasp, palms going flat against his chest.Â
He feels good. Tender skin soft to the touch beneath your hand, tattoos tempting to trace the outline of. Later.Â
âFigured you might want a more comfortable ride,â he laughs against you, breath smelling ever so faintly of mint and whiskey washing over you, before he dips to mouth away at your neck.
You drop back onto the sofa, bite your tongue on a comment about how this cheap piece of furniture most definitely wasnât the most comfortable option, simply eager at the fact he was letting this move along.Â
You want him, you need him, and you have no time for patience.Â
His exploration of touches have lit you aflame, and youâre growing a bit desperate at this point. It might be pathetic, it should be embarrassing, but you really donât care.Â
âBy all means,â you break out of his hold entirely, catching the way his hand holding your chin lingers a few extra seconds, reluctant to let you go, âTake your seat, Cowboy.âÂ
He joins you on the couch, eyes never leaving yours even as he throws himself down. Knees spread wide, inviting lap on show, cock still straining against his pants.Â
The best seat in the house, as far as youâre concerned.Â
âYou just gonna keep starinâ,â he mocks lightly, looking you over slowly. Taking his time, you suppose, âOr you gonna get over here?âÂ
His words are all you need. Youâre quick to climb onto his lap, swinging your legs so that each thigh brackets his hips, your cunt pressing down on crotch carelessly. You love the way it feels â the outline of him hard against you, the cooling effect of the leather, the sharp edges of the zipper catching just right.Â
âThere,â he huffs out, grabbing onto you when you give the slightest roll of your hips, âNow weâre both in our seats.âÂ
When you go to press down harder, guiding yourself over his lap, hands steadying you by gripping his shoulders, he surprises you by his hips jumping up to meet your slow rhythm.
âWhat happened to being patient?â you try to tease him right back as your forehead meets his, hat comically struggling to stay on between the two of you, âThought you were gonna take your time with me-â
âBetween you and me, Iâm not gonna last,â he pants out, hands finding your hips. Those rings youâd been fantasizing of leaving an imprint on you are doing just that as he guides you, âBeen dreaming of you too long, sweetheart. Wanted this for so long.âÂ
Your heart nearly stops. Your hips stutter, pausing as his words rush over you.Â
âWhat?âÂ
Your head lifts away from his completely, grip on his shoulders tightening.Â
Heâs wanted this, too? This entire time?Â
Eddie takes your pause as a bad thing, a terrible omen as his face pales, âI mean- I just-â
âMunson,â you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at him, âYouâre telling me, this entire time, youâve been flirting with me?âÂ
Had that tone he used with the girl at the bar been flirting as youâd thought, or simple for show? Youâd so cluelessly assumed heâd never used that tone with you because heâd never genuinely flirted with you â and yet, it seems, heâd never used that tone because heâd been genuinely flirting with you.Â
âI-â his cheeks are brilliant red, and the wide eyes are from something different than lust now, âMaybe?âÂ
âMaybe?â you almost laugh, throwing your head back. The hat falls off, but Eddie is quick to retrieve it, âMy God, weâre fucking idiots.âÂ
âHey, Iâm not the one who stole my hat-â
âI like you, dumb ass,â you state plainly, âI wanted this for a while, too.âÂ
He pauses, one arm outstretched as his hand grips onto the hat, âWhat?âÂ
âBeen thinking about this, too,â your voice drops a little, almost a whisper, even though you two are the only ones in the room. For all you know, you two might be the only two people left in the world with the way heâs looking at you, âThinking about you and your lips. Thinking âbout your hands and the places theyâd go,â as you point out every detail, his body seemingly reacts. A lick of his lips, a squeeze of his hand still on your hip, âThought about your fingers and tongue a lot, too. How good theyâd feel inside me.âÂ
His hips thrust up at that, and suddenly, heâs placing his hat back atop your head.Â
That, it seems, was all the encouragement Eddie needed.Â
He deals with that belt buckle that had given you hell, bouncing you a bit on his lap as he fumbles with yanking the entire belt off and tossing it to the side. One hand busies with undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, as the other starts to bunch your dress.Â
âNice and slow,â he insists, looking up at you, absolutely vibrant. Somewhere between the tightness between your hips, all the throbbing between your thighs and in your chest, you feel a sort of bubbly delight creeping up along your spine. âGot it, kitty?âÂ
You nod once. Twice. On the third nod, he cuts you off with a kiss.Â
Your dress is up to your waist, and you donât know how, but he manages to shimmy off his pants without throwing you off his lap entirely. Itâs impressive, really. Probably a symptom of him having thought about this, dreamt about this. Heâd probably thought up every scenario possible, and was prepared.Â
âOh, and these?â his fingers find the waistband of your panties, tsking a little as he pulls at the elastic and lets it slap back against your skin, âThose definitely have to come off.âÂ
âWhatever you say, cowboy.âÂ
You take your time sliding off his lap, making sure to grind against him before you properly lift away. He throws his head back in a groan, Adamâs apple bobbing as you stand up straight. You take that moment to just admire him, capturing the clench of his jaw to memory, the way his eyes screw shut in pleasure at your influence.Â
Heâs fucking perfect. Youâre sure thereâs others who disagree, but youâd pay them no mind. Heâs perfect, and heâs all yours.Â
You make a show of taking off your panties only once heâs properly looking at you once more, craving his eyes on you as you keep all your movements fluid and steady. No rush, exuding all that patience heâd prattled on about.Â
You want to see his face when you gently toss the black lacey piece in his direction, watch him fumble with his own desperation to catch them.Â
âSeems a bit unfair that Iâm the only one undressing,â you hum as you go a step further and begin to shimmy out of the dress.
âYeah, well,â he grins cheekily at you, fisting your panties, a hand trailing down to the waistband of his boxers as he eyes you, âOne of us was showing a bit more skin than the other.â
âTake off the vest, Eddie.âÂ
Your command is velvet, and heâs quick to obey. His hand stubbornly refuses to let go of your panties as he rushes to shrug out of the thin fabric over his shoulders, tossing the vest to join his pants and your dress on the floor.Â
âAnd the boxers.âÂ
You stand there, in nothing but his cowboy hat, as you wait pretty and patient for him to listen. And listen he does.Â
The moment his boxers are discarded, his cock is standing at attention, leaking from the tip and deep shade of pink that matches his kiss-bitten lips. You think it might be the prettiest color youâve ever laid eyes on as you watch a drop of precum slip down his shaft.Â
Heâs pretty, even in the fucking pants.Â
Girthy, thick enough you almost arch your back before youâve even sunk down on him. All veins and soft skin, a sensitive tip that youâd trace your tongue over for hours if he let you.Â
âGonna just stand there, or are you going to ride your cowboy?âÂ
He surely meant to sound more cocky, but the words come out as more of a whine as you watch him twitch under your stare.Â
Heâs right though, and youâd rather get him inside you than spend another second gawking. There will be time to pay more attention to him and his pretty cock tomorrow. Right now, you need to finish this god-forsaken mission.Â
Your thighs find his hips just as his hands find yours, choosing to grip the couch rather than his shoulders as you steady yourself.Â
Nice and slow, his words echo in your mind.Â
You could have prepared yourself more, but youâd already made it clear to Eddie that you are not a patient person. The fact that you even take your time as you sink down on him, going as far as to grab him by his base and guide his tip to smear precum across your clit, is impressive.Â
The stretch is a bit painful. A bit much. A bit dizzying. But you refuse to stop as your jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.Â
âFuck,â you breathe out softly as you feel him fill you, âFuck, Eddie.âÂ
âFeel good, baby?â he questions, reaching up to grab your chin just as he had before. Forcing you closer to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes just as he bottoms out.Â
You donât answer him as you both moan out.Â
You stay there for a second, unmoving as you swim in the feeling. Feeling him press into the depths of you, the overwhelming warmth and the coil in your abdomen tightening ever so slightly.Â
Itâs better than you had imagined it. No daydreams could compare to the feeling of Eddieâs cock finally, finally filling you. Stretching you out, making you his.Â
âGo ahead,â he grits out, entire body tense, clearly holding out on you, âRide your cowboy, kitty. Donât make me ask twice.âÂ
Nice. And. Slow.
Three little words that ricochet through your mind as you start to slowly bounce on him. Lifting ever so slightly, dropping back down, aching to feel him even deeper inside of you. Feeling the quiver of his thighs to match yours as you repeat the action, gasps and whimpers falling from both your lips. Youâre about to try and kiss him, try and swallow all those delicate noises from him, when he stops you.Â
âNo, no, no,â heâs chuckling, giving your hips a few squeezes before his palms rub down your thighs, the friction sending you on edge, âCâmon, now. We both know thatâs not how you ride.âÂ
His hands rake over your skin, down to your knees, lighting scratching and squeezing along their entire pathway until they make their way back up to your waist and hips.Â
âDo it like this, sweetheart.â
He guides you, no longer allowing you to lift up. You sink all the way down on his cock, whining out at the fullness, before he starts the pattern.Â
Back and forth. Gentle circles amidst the rocking. Your clit grazes his pubes, and the coil in between your hips has never tightened more quickly.Â
The motion feels familiar - like riding a bull.Â
This feels right. You still press down, still clench down on him hard enough to make you both slip out obscenities, but itâs getting you there.Â
At some point, Eddieâs grip on your hips slips, but itâs fine â youâve got the rhythm down perfectly. Slow, intermittent figure eights between the rolls of your hips, his occasionally slamming upward to reward you with that deepness you need. You can feel him in your stomach, in your chest, in your throat.Â
You get a bit daring, and take one hand to his shoulders, as the other reaches up for the top of the hat on your head.Â
Just like a cowboy.Â
âLike this?â you pant out between harsher rolls, eliciting curses that continue to grow louder from Eddie.Â
âFuck, baby, yes,â he groans out, head thrown back, mouth open in gratification, âJust like that. Keep- keep going just,â he thrusts up, âLike,â another thrust, âThat.âÂ
You nearly lose balance, falling forward a bit, too stubborn to let go of the hat. Thereâs a grin glimmering at the corners of your mouth, and it fully blooms when Eddie throws up a hand to catch you .
A hand on your throat.Â
He doesnât squeeze, doesnât cut off blood flow or breathing. He keeps that warm palm there at the base of your neck, cradling you, holding you. A reminder that he could squeeze if he wanted, that he held you in the palm of his hands currently, but he wonât.Â
âYou like that?â his eyes shine as he looks up at you, the sight of his rings decorating your neck.Â
You nod.
âTell me with your words,â he commands.
âI like it,â you whimper, looking up further, stretching more of your neck to be vulnerable to Eddie. âI like it so much, baby.âÂ
When the pet name falls from your lips, you can feel him twitch inside of you. The sudden jut of his hips, the sharp intake of breath.Â
âYou like that,â you laugh breathlessly, your hand atop the hat the only thing keeping it from falling as you lean your head fully back, eyes beginning to roll back into your head. âWanna be my baby, Munson?âÂ
âAlways have,â he grunts, the hand on your throat slipping up to cup your face to drag you towards him, âSince the fucking moment I met you, sweetheart.â
When he kisses you, it tastes like the closest to Heaven you might ever get. Soft, plump lips, and an eager tongue. All the wasted time hiding behind jokes and teasing, playing pretend like the flirting was never serious.
It was serious. And if youâd just come clean sooner, you would have had this long ago.Â
Your hips are still rolling as your hands begin to roam. Youâve found your balance again, lips pressed to Eddie, and itâs your turn to explore all he has to give you. Your nails graze his stomach when your clit catches once more on that rough thatch of hair against the base of his cock. Your fingers dig into flesh wherever they can find it â his chest, his arms, his hips. At some point, you throw a hand out behind you, grasping for his knee. Learning every curve and every point of his body as he had done for you.Â
You wanna memorize the roadmap of him. Take a snapshot in your mind so that next time, none of it is unfamiliar territory.Â
Your touch is driving him insane; it doesnât take a genius to pick up on the way his hips falter to meet your movements, or how he keeps breaking the kiss to gasp, letting his jaw fall slack when he hits a particular deep spot within you.Â
Itâs when your lips finally trail down the stubble sprouting across his jawline, mouth sucking on the soft skin below his ear, that heâs finally a goner.Â
ââM close,â he gasps out, almost sounding drunk as he slurs through his pants, âAh, fuck, Iâm gonna-â
âCum for me, Eddie.âÂ
Maybe itâs the way you had been touching him, or the way your cunt had been fluttering around him, or the persistent rolling of your hips that had become so focused on his pleasure. Maybe it was the sight of you in his hat, looking at him like that. Maybe it was the way his name sounded on your tongue.Â
Either way, when Eddie Munson comes undone, heâs beautiful.Â
Your own movements slow involuntarily as you gaze starry eyed, watching the way his face scrunches and feeling his grip on you tighten impossibly. Leaving their mark, making you his in yet another way. Warmth fills your cunt and every curse word under the summer sun is falling from his lips.Â
Your name, curses, prayers, gratitude â a jumbled mess, and it sounds fucking fantastic when itâs said in Eddieâs desperate tone.Â
âShit,â he gasps out, finally coming back down to Earth, âShit.â
You sit still on his lap, skin sticky with sweat, lips spread thin in a cheeky grin, âSounds like I get to keep your hat, cowboy.âÂ
His eyes shoot open, and for a second, youâre terrified.
Those arenât the eyes of someone satisfied.Â
âYou didnât cum.â
âWhat?â
âYou,â he says, stressing the word as he shifts you off his lap. You donât miss the way he winces, clearly a bit sensitive, âDid not cum.âÂ
You hadnât really noticed, too wrapped up in him to notice your high slipping away from you. Youâd been too focused on Eddie: on feeling him cum inside you, on watching him break apart, on tracing the outline of the blood rushing to his cheeks with your eyes and that fresh burst of violet on his neck in the shape of your lips.Â
âItâs fine,â you start to argue, feeling the warmth of him leaking down your thighs. You should be a lot more worried about making a mess all over your sofa. You should be, but you arenât. âI can-â
âYouâre not keeping that fucking hat until you cum for me, sweetheart.âÂ
And, oh, maybe your own orgasm wasnât racing as far away from you as youâd believed, because those words nearly push you over the edge for him.Â
âGet on all fours for me, baby.âÂ
Yeah. You definitely could still be close. For him.
When you donât move to follow his command immediately, heâs using those gentle hands to guide you. Encouraging a twist of your hips from how youâre reclining back across the couch, letting you press your cheek down against the cushion.
You open your mouth to argue, to insist it was fine, to say anything, but youâre cut silent when a sudden slap lands on your ass.Â
A silent command this time, and youâre finally listening.Â
You lift your ass up for him on shaky knees, elbows digging into the cushion now instead of your face. The hat on your head is lopsided, and you almost reach up to fix it when-Â
âIâll be taking that,â For the first time since youâd stolen his hat, Eddie takes it back. Right off your head, too fast for you to protest. When you dig your chin into your shoulder to look back at him, heâs smiling, hat back in its rightful place atop his curls, âYou can have it back after you cum for me, at least once.â
âAt least once?â you mean to laugh, to sound cocky, but it comes out as more of a squeak.Â
He shrugs, leaning forward, his bare chest pressing against the skin of your bare ass â right where an imprint of his hand still sings, âAt least. By all means, if you feel the need, donât hesitate to give me a few. God knows youâve earned it.âÂ
You donât have time to banter back; he retracts before bring his mouth down to your cunt, and your elbows quickly give out at the first long stride of his tongue.Â
âGotta get you cleaned up,â he murmurs, a bit muffled, against your cunt.Â
Another stride, and this time, his tongue spends an extra second at your clit, circling it salaciously.Â
âOh, God,â you moan out into a mouthful of couch cushion, tempted to bite down to hide all the noises creeping up your throat when his tongue draws yet another circle, tip of his nose pressed to your sensitive hole.
He brings his tongue back to that space, that hole that feels gaping without him filling you now, and you try to bury your cheek only to earn another slap on the ass.
âDonât be shy now, kitty. Let me hear you.âÂ
And let him hear you, you do.Â
Each lick, short and timid or long and confident, is dredging up obscene mewls from you. When he enters you with it, curling it and pressing as deep as he can, truly cleaning you up as he had said, youâre chanting his name.Â
âFuck, Eddie,â you cry softly, rocking your body back against his mouth, âYour fingers. P-Please, use your fingers.âÂ
Your wish is his command as he brings his hand up between your legs, breaking from having his tongue buried inside of you and using a calloused pad of his finger to trace over your clit before he begs, âSay my name again.âÂ
You do. Over, and over, and over as his mouth and his fingers begin to work against you. Careful focus is placed on your clit, and his mouth runs amok between your cunt and thighs. You feel what will no doubt be hickies along the curve of your ass, nips of teeth against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he presses two fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your hips are rocking back to match his rhythm, wanting more.Â
More, more, more.Â
Thereâs nothing nice and slow about this. Youâre chasing after a high, and Eddie is listening to you every step of the way.Â
Your thighs begin to shake terribly right around the time your vision blurs, unable to contain the whines that have grown to echoing volumes. Surely, your neighbors can hear. Probably confused as to who Eddie is, probably considering how embarrassing it would be to knock down your door and complain about the noises.Â
You really, really donât give a fuck when white speckles flood your vision, even with your eyes screwed shut, and that tension between your hips threatens to snap.Â
Right before your knees give out, your entire body trembling, Eddie pulls back and grabs your hips. You cry out, so close yet so far, until heâs flipping you back over.Â
You get one glimpse of him before he goes to work to bring you over that edge â lips and chin slick with you, hair frizzing beneath his hat, a determined glint in his eyes that have your thighs clenching around his ears.Â
You were right. Eddie Munson looks damn good between your thighs.Â
He quickly returns to his mitigations, and this time, itâs all a bit more strategic. Lips suctioned around your clit and three fingers curling deep within you, a beckoning motion as he urges you to let go for him.Â
The white returns behind your eyelids. Your back arches up off the sofa. Your ankles lock as they cross behind Eddieâs back, almost effectively trapping him in place.
You cum hard for him.Â
Youâre entirely unaware if you scream his name in the process, but you hope you do. As that relief, that ecstasy, floods your system, you hope you make sure everyone within a five mile radius knows whoâs responsible. Your entire body continues to shake for far longer than you believe it ever has before. Your hips had lifted, begging for Eddie to keep going even as it all grew painful.
He does. He keeps going, sucking you dry for every drop you have to give him, until youâre physically having to shove him away.Â
Your hands are weak as you sink down into the cushion, eyes still closed as you hear him chuckle before you feel him crawl his way back up your body.Â
âThere,â you donât even need to see his face to see that smug satisfaction â his voice is dripping in it. âNow you can keep the hat.âÂ
One of your hands blindly throws itself through the air to smack him, missing entirely as you drift through the afterglow of it all.Â
âIâm not sure Iâve earned it,â you mumble as he catches your wrist, limp in the air, âPretty sure I didnât break you when I made you cum.â
âOh, you did,â he notes, hand curling around your wrist. You watch as he slowly brings it to his lips, peppering a few chaste kisses on the soft skin, âJust in a different way.âÂ
You raise your eyebrows, smiling at the tingling feeling left behind on your skin in the wake of his mouth, âYeah?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
He tugs you to sit up despite your groan of protest, somehow smoothly maneuvering the two of you so that heâs now the one beneath you, letting the full weight of you bear down on his chest as you lay on top of him. The hand wrapped around your wrist brings it back up for more kisses, more repetitive gentle pecks of affection, as his other arm is quick to wrap around you. Holding you in place, as though heâs scared you might disappear.Â
âWell,â you whisper against the bare skin of his chest, nearly shivering when his free hand starts to trail slowly up and down your spine, âGood.âÂ
Your cheek feels the vibrations of his chuckle, âThatâs all you have to say?âÂ
âGive me a few minutes to recover,â you insist, all but nuzzling into him, âIâm sure Iâll have a smartass comeback for you once IâmâŠâ you trail off, heavy eyes looking up at him, the words lost on your tongue and in the air.Â
The gentle curve of his cupidâs bow. The roundness at the end of his nose, still a fading hue of pink. The freckle beneath his right eye. The way the phantom of the dimple of his left cheek never quite leaves his face.
All the things youâve dreamt of seeing so up close, never knowing it could have been a reality.Â
He lets go of your wrist, smiling softly with a shake of his head, âCanât believe youâre gonna fall asleep on me.â
âAm not,â you nearly say under your breath, sighing in content.Â
âAm too,â he mocks, a certain docility to all his teasing before he sighs as well, âItâs okay. You can. Iâll still be here when you wake up.â
You hum, eyes fluttering shut as you hear some rustling, âPromise, cowboy?âÂ
âAbsolutely, kitty. You said something about tomorrow, remember?âÂ
You both laugh in sync as your couch suddenly becomes the most comfortable place in the world.Â
Just before losing consciousness, right as you feel Eddieâs breathing even out along with your own, you decide to open your eyes one last time to catch sight of the cowboy hat perched carefully on your coffee table.Â
Tomorrow. You hope for a thousand tomorrows as you decide that that hat is definitely yours now.
#ghost's stories#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#stranger things#emphasis on the smut. this is. just. a lot of smut.
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Gotham's Sunshine Child part 1
No one knew when exactly Danny Fenton had arrived in Gotham. One day, he was just thereâa quiet, gangly sixteen-year-old with a ratty backpack, a stitched-up hoodie, and a smile that could melt the icicles off Victor Friesâ heart. The city hadnât noticed him at first, too preoccupied with surviving itself. But Danny? Danny noticed everything.
And when Gotham finally turned its eyes toward him, it fell in love.
It started with a mugger.
That particular evening, a man with shaky hands and a knife cornered Danny in an alley just off Crime Alley. Standard Gotham fare. But instead of fighting back or running away, Danny had blinked at the mugger, reached into his pocket, and handed over the cash.
"Here. It's not much," he had said, voice warm. "But there's a soup kitchen two blocks from here. Tell Lisa I sent you. She makes killer lentil stew."
The mugger, stunned into silence, had only managed a confused nod before running off.
Three days later, the same man showed up againâcleaned up, holding a broom, working at a local deli. He later admitted to the cops (and a very baffled Red Hood) that âthe kidâ had told him he could do better. And he believed him.
It didnât stop there.
A homeless vet who used to sleep under the old train tracks suddenly had a place to stay and a job fixing bikes. When questioned, he simply said, âThat kid gave me his sleeping bag and a flier for a mechanic shop hiring. Then he dragged me there himself.â
Danny did that sort of thing all the time.
The Bat-Family was at a loss.
âHeâs not a meta,â Tim had insisted after three all-nighters of research and very little caffeine. âOr, wellâmaybe he is
but thatâs not the point. Heâs just⊠a kid.â
âWhoâs doing more good than half our roguesâ gallery does damage,â Barbara added.
âHeâs too soft for Gotham,â Jason had snapped once, furious after finding Danny curled up on a park bench in December because heâd given away his coat. Again. âThis city chews up people like him.â
But oddly enough, Gotham didn't chew him up.
Instead, Gotham protected him.
Word spread fast. You donât mess with the Sunshine Kid. Thieves wouldnât rob him. Dealers would steer clear of his usual paths. Kids in gangs would warn others: Donât touch the kid in the patched-up hoodie. Even the alley cats followed him around like a pack of miniature bodyguards.
One night, Scarecrow tried to gas a block Danny happened to be on.
The gas didnât work.
Danny had walked right through it, calm and kind, helping others out of the fog with a hand over their mouths and gentle instructions. The toxin, later analysis showed, had no effect on him.
"I donât scare easy," Danny had told Nightwing afterward with a shrug.
Which made sense, in retrospectâafter all, what was fear to a boy who had already died once?
#dpxdc#danny fenton#danny phantom#jason todd#batman#gotham#tim drake#damian wayne#Danny is a good boy#homeless danny fenton
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simon riley has a home, not a particularly big house in quiet neighborhood, a place where he doesn't wears his gear and doesn't has a knife pocketed at his thigh, where he doesn't hides under another identity, remaining just simon, a sated man with a sweet wife and a chubby baby at his hip, a civilian life he's so desperately tried to seek and that you gifted him.
home with a bright, spacious kitchen where you stood each morning together, with simon's hefty form cloaking you from behind, thick hands trailing under the satin of your nightie, bunching the fabric on your front, where you're pressed against the wood of the kitchen counter, your cat walking on top, before meowing lightly and jumping off onto the floor, knowing that it's best for her to leave you two to be, furling into another room through half opened door.
baby sleeping in the crib, peacefully, a soft lulling melody wafting through the chilly air of the room that keeps your girl sleeping tight, door closed slightly to muffle any possible sounds from disturbing her sleep, your mellowy sounds that slip past your parted lips when simon teases his thick fingers against your sopping folds, cupping your warm pussy beneath the cotton of your panties, swiping across your slit and gathering the oozing slick there.
a family, the one simon would protect with everything he has, to keep you, his sweet wife, always by his side, with your pretty finger adorned by the sparkly, wedding ring that matches his, cooling against your swollen clit where he can't stop teasing you, spreading your folds to the morning air, dripping wet and taking every inch of his girthy cock gracefully, spasming around the girth he feeds you, squeezed tight in your thin, gummy walls.
muffling your hiccuping cries, simon's hips bouncing against your ass, squeezed in his rough palm through the fabric of your nightie, fat supple and spilling from his fingers, as his heavy balls press and slap against your folds, drippy with your slick and his tacky precome, matting the tangle of fuzzed curls of hair on his pelvic and meaty thighs, muscles tensing with webbing heat in his soft belly, rolls of skin rubbing against the small of your back, as he folds himself over you.
he kisses the molassed whimpers from your lips with his searing mouth, pummels into your pussy when your gooey walls flutter and clench, rippling, stuffed full of the thick girth that grinds against your small, sens spot and makes you claw painfully at the wood of the counter, simon's hand gathering your wrist, tying them together by his fingers, the same that currently flick across the small bundle of your nerves, swollen, full of pumping blood, when you cry out loud in the soft furl of his lips.
your darling girl still asleep, cat curled against her small form, tail draped over her slowly breathing body and prolonging her sleep, unable to hear the heavy breaths coming out from the kitchen and the breathy giggles simon completes to devour off from your lips, with his clashing teeth's and greedy tongue, despite your panties being sodden and his cum trailing down the underside of your doughy thighs in viscous, glistening globs.
a home, with a smell of fresh breakfast curling and dissolving into the air of the room, as you stand behind the stove, watching the two sizzling pans as simon busies himself in helping your baby brush her teeth, cradling her against his chest, as she babbles groggily, already all over his ears, as he chuckles hoarsely, bundling her against the bend of his elbow, walking back to the kitchen with a cat meowing at his feet, hungry too.
main masterlist. quidelines.
#.đjuly's writings#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley comfort#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley fluff#simon riley comfort#simon riley x you#simon ghost smut#simon ghost riley#ghost x f!reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost x female reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost x you#simon riley drabble#domestic!simon#domestic!ghost#simon ghost riley drabble#ghost thoughts#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon riley headcanons
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hi amyyyy!! i just saw that your requests are open and i got sooo excited đ€đ€ so if you're up for it i have a bucky request where maybe r is a little shy, sweet person and has been secretly pining after him ever since they both started living in the avengers compound, so she decides to cook dinner for him one night just to do something nice for him?? just a little fluff for our sad beautiful tragic super soldier
our man does deserve some loving đ thank you for your request, lovely! | 1.4k words
"What the hell are you doing to that poor tomato?"
You whirl around from the kitchen counter, heart leaping into your throat at the unexpected sound of Bucky's voice behind you. He's standing there with an arched eyebrow, broad shoulders barely fitting through the entryway to the kitchen in the Avengers Compound, dark hair damp and wavy from a recent shower. His metal arm gleams under the bright lights as he reaches up to push his hair back from his face. Oh, man.
You shoot him a stern look, heartbeat returning to normal, and raise your tomato-covered knife in mock threat. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you warn. "I could've cut myself."
"I didn't exactly sneak," Bucky protests. "The floor squeaks like crazy in here."
"But you move like a cat...maybe I should put a bell on you."
He grins at that, the flash of teeth so unexpected that it leaves you blinking for a moment, mesmerized by the way it lights up his whole face in a gentle way completely at odds with his hard-edged features. "You think you could put a bell on me?"
He probably didn't mean to make that sound as flirtatious as it came out, you decide. The man can't help it if he's naturally devastating.
"I could, you know," you maintain, recovering your equilibrium with effort. You're generally hopelessly enamored with Bucky Barnes, but you do have some self-respect and you intend to keep it that way. "If I wanted to. But right now, I'm fighting with this poor, defenseless tomato."
He takes this as an invitation (which it absolutely wasn't; your limbs seem to lose their ability to function when he gets too close to you, you've noticed) and strides over to peer at the cutting board like you're conducting a vitally important experiment. "Looks like it's losing," he comments. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Uh...no. No, Iâactually, I was making something for you, but now I think you don't deserve it."
You take a step back from him and his broad shoulders before your brain can melt into a useless puddle.
He glances at you like you've grown a second head. "For me?"
"Yeah, I thoughtâwell, I like cooking. And Steve told me that you used to really like his mom's spaghetti when you were kids, so I thoughtâwhat? What's that look for?"
Bucky's still staring at you like he's never seen you before. His eyes are very blue and very disarming. "I just didn't know you liked to cook."
"You, uh, you don't have to eat it or anything ifâif you don't want to," you manage, unsure how to respond to this odd reaction other than with a dash of humor, which you tend to default to in awkward situations. "I won't be offended."
"I'm not saying I don't want it." He sounds genuinely taken aback. "Of course I want it, who wouldn't want it? I just...I didn't know you cared about what I liked."
You consider pointing out that you do, in fact, care very much about what he likes, given that you've been pining for him in your quiet, hopeless way ever since he joined the Avengers team and made every brain cell you own spontaneously combust...but that would beat the point of your silly, juvenile crush remaining a secret. "Well, there's lots of things you don't know about me," you joke instead.
"I'd like to know more," he says.
It sounds surprisingly earnest. You're not sure what to do with that.
"You're only saying that because I'm making you food," you tease, defaulting to the safety of flippancy yet again. If Bucky knew how thoroughly and embarrassingly you've lost your heart to him, things would get really awkward, really fast, and you'd be forced to quit your job and move to a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness to live in lonely solitude.
Bucky gives you a small (and, of course, unfairly disarming) smile and leans his hip against the counter, hands tucked in his pockets as he regards you from underneath a sweep of dark hair. "I'm serious."
Your nerves feel like they're vibrating. "I'm really not that interesting," you insist, quickly putting the chopped tomatoes into a pot on the stovetop. You've already got onions and garlic sauteing, adding to the scent of warm tomato paste that's slowly coming together. "You'd get bored of me really fast if we hung out."
"I doubt that."
Is it your imagination or is there a slightly suggestive undertone to his words? "Buckyâ"
He shakes his head, as though to cut you off. "How can I help?"
You look at him blankly. He seems very tall, standing this close to you, and warm, and solid, and his eyes are bluer than the sky outside, and the smell of himâa clean, masculine scent with a hint of cedarwoodâis making your thoughts get jumbled up and skip tracks.
"Do you want me to stir the sauce or something?" he asks patiently, not looking like he minds standing here staring at you while you drool over him. Maybe he's having fun, you think, under all that quiet solemnity.
You find your tongue. "Yes. I mean no, no, that's okay. You can sit down and relax."
"I don't really do relaxing."
"Everyone should do relaxing."
Bucky gives a small huff of amusement, something close to a laugh. You catch yourself before you can stare at him in gooey-eyed adoration and focus on stirring the sauce, which is just beginning to bubble in the pot, releasing a rich scent into the air.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to beâto make you uncomfortable," Bucky says abruptly. "I'm not good at...small talk. Or conversation in general. It's been a while."
"Since you've talked to someone?"
"No, since I've tried to hit on someone."
Your eyes widen. Bucky seems amused at your reaction, although his expression is back to its usual quiet, watchful look, with only the tiniest glint of humor in his blue eyes giving him away.
You could be misreading it, though.
But you're pretty sure you're not misreading it.
"Doll, you're burning the sauce."
"Shit!"
You turn back to the stovetop and jerk the saucepan away from the burner. The bottom of the sauce is definitely sticking to the pot, charred and smelling smoky, a dramatic change from its formerly bright red, succulent state that it had been when you last checked it five minutes ago.
How long have you been standing here silently staring at the pot? "Dammit." You grab a spoon and try to scrape the charred sauce off the bottom of the pot, wincing at the scraping sound. "Dammit."
Bucky's quiet chuckle sends goosebumps over your skin. "Dammit?"
"This was supposed to be a nice gesture," you lament, looking forlornly at the ruined sauce. "Iâ"
He plucks the spoon from your hand with a deft twist of his metal fingers, his body so close to yours that you can feel the warmth radiating from him and smell the cedar scent of him again. "You're really adorable when you're flustered."
Your jaw drops. Bucky smiles at your expression, dipping the spoon into the pot of sauce to take a small taste, then reaching past you to add a dash of something from a bottle on the countertop.
"B-bucky, I didn'tâwhat are you doing?"
He takes another spoonful of sauce and holds it up in front of your face, cupping his hand underneath the spoon so it doesn't drip onto the floor. "Here, taste."
"That's for you."
"Taste."
You reluctantly take a small taste, because it's spaghetti sauce and you have absolutely no willpower where Bucky Barnes is concerned. "I burned it."
"Only the bottom," he says, dropping the spoon into the sink with a clatter. When you blink at him, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, suddenly looking almost shy. "I, uh, I've learned to cook a few things when I was in Wakanda."
"I kind of feel like my self-esteem just took a massive blow," you murmur. "I triedâwhat? What are you doing?"
Bucky has spun you around to face the stovetop again, standing behind you and reaching over your head to stir the sauce again. The solid warmth of his chest is pressed against your back, and you have to lock your knees so they don't give out on you. He's really, really tall. And warm. And smells amazing.
"Helping," he murmurs, ducking his head to (oh God oh God oh God) speak the word in your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.
Somehow, you feel like it's much more than that.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky x you#bucky x reader#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x fem!reader#winter soldier x you#marvel fanfic#marvel imagine#bucky barnes scenario#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes one-shot#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes headcanon#mcu fanfic#mcu#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#bucky barnes headcanons#bucky barnes hcs#bucky barnes hc#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes dialogue#bucky barnes fluff
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As soon as I get home I am never leaving my house again.
#im having a horrible morning :D#I've been staying with my brother the past few days for guilt reasons and as nice as he and his girlfriend are this house is#my own personal hell. In the area that im staying everything is cold and damp (including the toiletpaper) and I think ive been rubbing mold#on my face because my towel wont dry. I cant go two inches without seeing or accidentally stepping on a bug and theres dirt and debris#literally everywhere. There are so many goddamn stairs. I tried to actually make something to eat today that was more substantial and more#effort than like a fistful of goldfiah crackers. The knife I had seemed very dull. My noodles are probably undercooked because I don't#understand the stovetop. When I tried to pour my soup out of the pot the shape of it made it so half the liquid in there just poured#straight onto the stove. All of the chairs in this province are so goddamn uncomfortable. I am miserable as I knew I would be#and I want to go home. I miss my cat and my ability to create a semi-sterile environment. My flight (which is itself a horrible stressor an#impending miserable experience + I had to spend $350 for a flight I don't want to be on to get home from a trip I didnt want to go on)#isnt until Monday and its only Wednesday today. I already always feel like Im seeing bugs and like theyre crawling on me.#I cannot live somewhere where thats actually *true*. I'm also constantly being unsubtly judged for using a mobility aid and any time I talk#to my mom she doesnt listen to literally anything I say and theres so much goddamn noise in this house and I dont wanna say anything to my#brother because thats *rude* and *ungrateful* but the only texture I can stand in this place is the tiny couch I have to curl up but keep#vigilant on because not even that is safe from bugs!!! And all of the counters are sticky!!! And they made me get expensive groceries that#I cant make myself use! I'm in a sensory and emotional nightmare and in constant physical pain! And then people get upset with me for being#miserable to be around! What the fuck do they want me to do!?!?#anyways.#ghostprince posts#vent#delete later#I want to go home.#update: I took like two bites of my food and immediately became nauseous. I've also become convinced there's bugs in there. Great.
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hello!
Could you maybe do poly!marauders x reader and the boys discovering she has a major praise kink!
It doesnât have to be smutty or it can be whatever you think!!
(ps: you are such an amazing author and the way you write the marauders together and their personalities is impeccable đ)
This was fun and funny, thanks for requesting!
cw: praise kink, suggestive ending (no smut)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ⥠1k words
Remus makes a soft hissing sound. âIs that how you always chop onions?âÂ
You look at him sideways. âWith a knife? Yes.âÂ
âDonât be cheeky,â he says, smiling. âYouâre going to hurt yourself.âÂ
You look down at your cutting board, still chopping but now bemused. âI donât plan on it.âÂ
James, whoâs appeared over your shoulder, makes a similar sound, hissing through his teeth. âNo, sweetheart.â He places his hand over yours on the handle of the knife, silently prompting you to stop. âRemâs right, youâre going to lose the tips of your fingers.âÂ
You feel a tad defensive of your chopping skills. âIâve managed to keep them all âtil now. What am I doing wrong?âÂ
âHere, let me.â James eases the knife from your grip, squishing in alongside you in front of the cutting board and taking your onion. âSee, you want to curl your fingers in a tiny bit so the knife skims off them. Like a claw.âÂ
You lean over, peering at his hand. âIt looks hard to keep a grip like that.âÂ
âIt takes a bit of practice,â he allows. James slices through the onion a few times with smooth, easy motions, then passes the knife back to you. âGive it a try.âÂ
You try to hold the onion the way he had, looking at James for approval. He taps your pinkie finger, getting you to curl that one a bit more, before smiling at you.Â
âThere you go. Thatâs good, now try cutting down your knuckles.âÂ
âThis feels scarier than my way,â you admit, though you do as he says, skimming the knife down your knuckles and slicing through the onion slowly.Â
âNo, youâve got it,â James praises. âThatâs really good, angel. Youâre a natural.âÂ
Your cheeks are starting to warm from all the compliments. âThanks,â you say in a small voice.Â
âDonât go getting shy,â says Sirius, coming in to steal a dry pasta noodle from Remus. He bites down on it with a crack that makes James grimace. âYou were so vocal about how you knew the proper way a minute ago.âÂ
âI still like my way better,â you say, recovering some.Â
âRight, well do it this way for our peace of mind, would you?â Jamesâ hand warms the small of your back as he watches you work. âYou have very pretty fingers, and I donât think Iâm being too presumptuous in saying that we all like them too much to risk it. Plus, youâve picked it up so quickly.âÂ
The heat from your face spreads lower. Itâs all you can do to squeak out a meek âokay.â Youâre grateful when James leaves to return to his own task.Â
A minute later, Remus comes over to check that youâre doing what youâre supposed to. He hums approvingly. âGood girl,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. All the air in your lungs dries up. âThank you, darling. That looks great.âÂ
âShe learned from the best,â James quips.Â
Remus hums and kisses his hair too before turning back to his work. Itâs only a handful of seconds before they realize youâve not replied.Â
âDove?â Remus looks at you.Â
âHm?â you hum tightly.Â
âYou alright?â
âMhm.âÂ
James and Sirius have turned to look now, too. You keep your face downturned to the cutting board, but you can feel the weight of three curious stares on the back of your head. Sirius prowls over to you like a cat, taking you by the shoulders and turning you slowly.Â
âHumor me for a moment?â he asks, smirking. âI want to test a theory.âÂ
Youâre wound too tightly by this point to respond, his smug teasing pushing you to the edges of sanity. You barely have the wherewithal to set your knife down carefully behind you.Â
Your boyfriendâs cold hands find your warm face, shit-eating grin only spreading as he takes his time feeling about your cheeks with his knuckles and fingers. Sirius isnât always the most perceptive of your boyfriends, but unfortunately, humiliatingly, heâs the first to unravel this particular mystery.Â
He asks smoothly, âDo you like it when we tell you how good you are, pretty girl?âÂ
Youâre not sure if he can actually feel the flare of heat to your face at the words, but something about your expression must confirm it. Sirius laughs gleefully.Â
âAwe, angel.â James comes over to wrap his arms around you from the side, also laughing. âI didnât know we were winding you up when we talked like that. I was just trying to compliment what a quick learner you are.âÂ
âShe is a quick learner,â Sirius says in a salacious tone. âYou always follow instructions well, donât you, gorgeous?âÂ
âStop,â you plead, covering your face with your hands and forcing Sirius to move his. All three of your boyfriends snicker, James pressing a conciliatory kiss to your burning ear. âItâs not like it happens all the time, youâre just being so much right now. You canât just call someoneâcall themââÂ
âA good girl?â Remus asks you, and you donât think heâs putting on a tone like Sirius is, you really donât, but his regular voice is already so nearly pornographic that the heat in your core spreads anyway.Â
âRight,â you say weakly.Â
Remus chuckles. âI didnât mean anything by it, sweetheart. Sorry if I put you in anâŠuncomfortable position.âÂ
âNo, donât be sorry.â Sirius is giddy, smugness dialed up to eleven. âThis is a revelation. Just think what we could do with this. Youâve given us all a gift, babe.âÂ
âOh, our poor girl,â James laughs when you try to hide your face in his shoulder. âSirius is right, this is good! Itâs always good for us to know what you like, right?âÂ
Youâre too flustered to reply, but Remus agrees for you, humming contemplatively.Â
âYou know,â he says, âif I leave this to simmer for a while, we could make it up to you now, dove. Iâd feel awful if I wound you up without giving you any payoff.âÂ
His tone implies heâs at least partly joking, but Sirius doesnât take it that way. He has you all in the bedroom in thirty seconds flat, your chopping left to wait for your return.Â
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#praise k!nk#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#hp marauders
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the letter
theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k
You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall.Â
Youâre immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. âBlood hell, mate,â Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theoâs leg lightly.Â
You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, âCan someone pass the eggs and bacon?â
As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theoâs eyes zero in on your legs. âHow are you not cold?â
You frown. âI am,â you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, âbut Pansyâs demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.â
Pansy sighs, âIâve ordered you new ones, calm down.âÂ
Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You donât think youâll ever get over how beautiful he is â all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. Heâs been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer youâve known him, the more youâve fallen for him.Â
Itâs a tale as old as the world itself: youâre hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.
âMailâs here,â you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky thatâs about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients.Â
âMaybe your new tights are here,â Enzo says.Â
Pansy adds, âI hope so. Then youâll stop complaining about it.â
You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parentsâ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap.Â
âWhoâs that from?â asks Pansy.Â
You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: âFor the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.â
You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, âWhatâs it say?â
Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. ââMeet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.ââ he reads.
âWhat?â Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line.Â
âYou doing okay there, Nott?â Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesnât say anything, the letterâs paper crinkling under his grip.Â
Pansy asks, âAre you going to go?â
You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that heâs gazing at you with an intensity youâve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. âI think so,â you say. âIâm interested to see who it is.â
âBe sure to bring your wand,â Draco says. âJust in case.â
âObviously,â you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up.Â
You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theoâs silent for the whole conversation.Â
You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up â itâs not a secret that Slytherin isnât the most popular House among your classmates â but you know you can handle yourself. Youâre more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didnât say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.
You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower.Â
You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. âCacophony,â you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.
The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. Youâre about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. âSorry, Theo,â you say. âDidnât see you there. Where are you going at this hour?â
âI was going to find you,â he replies.Â
âOh,â you say. âWell, here I am. Sorry, Iâve got to drop this stuff off and thenââ
âHead to the Astronomy Tower,â he finishes for you, âto meet your âsecret admirer.ââÂ
You donât like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. Youâre about to respond when he says, âDonât go.â
âWhat?â
âDonât go,â he repeats.
âWhy not?â
He pauses before saying, âWhat if itâs someone just having a laugh?â
You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. âIs it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?â
Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he canât believe that youâre saying something so outrageous, âNo, itâs not.â
âThen why shouldnât I go?â
âBecause I donât want you to!â
âFor Salazarâs sake, Theo, you canât tell me what to do!â
âI know that!â
âThen are you trying to tell me not to go?â
âBecause I bloody like you!â
Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly canât meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. âHow long?â you ask softly, holding your breath.
âSince first year.â
You blink. âReally?â
He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, âMattheoâs right; youâre so oblivious.â Thereâs another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, âHow do you feel?â
You canât stop the smile that spreads across your face. âI like you too, Theo. Iâve liked you since first year as well.â
He echoes your âReally?â and it makes you giggle, âI guess weâre both oblivious.â
He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, âCan I kiss you?â
Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, âIâd be disappointed if you didnât.â
Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak.Â
Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theodore nott#theo nott#theodore nott x you#theo nott x you#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott scenarios#theodore nott fic#theo nott imagine#theo nott fic#harry potter#slytherin boys#â¶ NOVE WRITES
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sometimes you black out and just an entire Persona 5 AU in one night
did I ever settle on a design for phantom thief! Siffrin? no. anyway,
NOT fully mirroring the P5 plot!! it's a bit different! a few were hit with the obligatory anime teenager beam
Siffrin gets arrested for allegedly attacking someone with a knife! this did not happen. while trying to help someone, he in fact got knifed in the face and lost an eye.
the adoption system is about to drop their ass since they're nearly an adult and no one's too happy about the aggravated assault. fate drops him at Nille's doorstep, who takes pity on him but insists she's only housing his ass for some extra cash. Bonnie acquires another felon a sibling!
showing up to school looking like shit (anxiety, no sleep), with an eyepatch and a natural silent intensity, no one really questions if he's stabbed someone. everyone's pretty sure he's killed someone actually.
Mira and Isa are charged with helping the new local mass murderer get settled, and they slowly start to uncover the real Siffrin hiding under all that apprehension. Odile, the school nurse, is all kinds of queer so she's got these kids' backs. as the story progresses, they each have their own character arc around biting back on authority (Isa gets the courage to transition, and Mira stops straightening her hair)
what about everyone else's outfits? that's the fun part! SIFFRIN IS DOING ALL THIS PHANTOM THIEF SHIT ALONE
well not totally alone. they've got a weird cat now. they can talk (Siffrin wishes they didn't) and has a concerning amount of knowledge about the metaverse for being an amnesiac! (this worries them too, they just try not to show it)
the OTHER fun part is that Siffrin is doing half this phantom thief stuff in the metaverse, half in the real world. good news is, he has the magic metaverse stuff irl! bad news is he has the magic metaverse stuff irl. yeah it helps keep him from getting caught, but law enforcement starts rising quickly to military arms when you start breaking physics while also being a theater kid about it.
the meat of the plot is surrounding Siffrin's struggle to fit two lives into one, and how his friends are WAY too perceptive to keep this up forever. but they have to, because they've only barely convinced their friends to accept them. if they knew he was some evil freaky magic terrorist (he's not, but like, who would believe him when he's doing seemingly evil freaky magic terrorist things!), they'd turn him in, they'd be scared, they'd HATE him!!
btw there is no rival for Siffrin. he's his own rival. lets give the "I'm terrified I'm manipulating my friends" twink actual mind alteration powers and see what happens :))
#isat#in stars and time#isat au#siffrin#odile#mirabelle#isabeau#loop#while brainstorming this in the server I was trying to match roles to characters and was like#u know what would be funny. if akechi was just There#no other canon P5 characters. no explanation#no plot relevance either#he's just the poor bastard that keeps seeing Siffrin banana himself to go to the shadow realm#also no there's. not really any personas. just magic ig#zilly art
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Snow Leopard Gojo - part 2 (â©ËoËâ©) ⥠nsfw!


Shoving a six-foot-something hybrid into a closet was⊠not your finest moment. Â
âGet in,â you hissed, palms pressed uselessly against Satoruâs bare chest, a chest that felt more like marble than flesh, all hard planes and warmth. He loomed over you, grinning like a cat whoâd not only found the cream but also knocked it over for fun. Â
âAw, but itâs cozy in here,â he purred, peering past you at the mountain of laundry and half-empty shoeboxes cluttering your closet. His tail swished lazily, brushing your ankle. âSmells like you, too. Cute.â Â
âSatoru-â Â
âShh, your momâs gonna hear~,â he sing-songed, bending down until his breath ghosted your ear. âUnless you want her to find us like this?â Â
Your face flamed. âDonât be dumb.â Â
With a theatrical, yet awfully bratty sigh, he finally stepped backward, folding himself onto the floor like a contortionist. The Hello Kitty towel around his hips rode up dangerously, and you swore he did it on purpose. âDonât miss me too much,â he whispered, wiggling his big, calloused fingers in a mocking wave. Â
You slammed the door, heart thundering. Â
The next thirty minutes were agony. Your mother, bless her, had arrived with tupperwares of veggie gyoza and white chocolate chip cookies, her smile soft as she fussed over your âtired eyesâ and âskinny arms.â But every creak of the floorboards made you twitch. Your gaze kept darting to the bedroom door, half-expecting Satoru to waltz out, towel dropped, declaring, âSurprise! Iâm her new roommate!â Â
Somehow, he stayed put. Â
Once your mom left, you flung the closet open, only to freeze. Â
Satoru sat cross-legged amidst your soft sweaters, his snow-white hair mussed adorably. The towel remained (thank heavens), but clutched in his hands wasâŠÂ Â
âAre those my-SATORU!â Â
He blinked up at you, your cotton, strawberry-print panties dangling from his teeth like a hunterâs prize. âMmrf?â
His pupils were blown wide, blue barely peeking from black. Your heart dropped to your bum as you saw that those were the panties you wore yesterday⊠As in, not washed, dried, faint slick still clung to the middle.
What?!
âYou-you pervert!â You lunged, snatching the fabric away. His plush lips quirked into a smirk, and you knew heâd been waiting for this. âWhy would you- how even- ?!â Â
âThey smell like you,â he said simply, as if that explained everything. Before you could die, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up your tiny neck. His pink, rough tongue scraping your pulse point. Â
âEep!â You reeled back, clutching your throat. âWarn a girl!â Â
âBut whereâs the fun in that?â He unfolded himself, tail curling around your waist to steady you. âCâmon, Iâm starving⊠Especially after smelling you. Feed me!â Â
You didnât acknowledge the âsmelling youâ part, merely walking to the kitchen with your tummy in swirls, heart beating faster than a spooked bunnyâs.Â
Dinner was a spectacle. Youâd cooked the lamb chops thoroughly, plating them with rice and veggies, a meal fit for, well, a person. Satoru took one look at the knife and fork, snorted, and dug in with his hands, tearing into the meat like it owed him fresh ibex. Â
âYouâre supposed to chew, not inhale,â you muttered, nibbling one of the cookies your mom brought. Your dinner was⊠weird most of the time. You had warm milk with chocolate in your miffy cup, getting curious side eyes from Satoru.Â
He paused, a glob of sauce on his cheek. âWant me to lick the plate next?â Â
âNo.âÂ
âYouâre no fun.â Still, he let you drag him to the sink afterward, pouting as you scrubbed his hands with citrus-scented soap. âYâknow, my tongueâs self-cleaning.â Â
âAnd Iâm self-respecting. Keep your icky germs to yourself.â Â
As night fell, Satoruâs true origin spilled out between stolen bites of your cookies. The Himalayas. Poachers. A wealthy owner whoâd treated him like a trophy. âBoring lady,â he grumbled, tail thumping the couch. âAll she did was take pics for her shitty Instagram. No belly rubs or cuddles. No fun.â Â
Your chest ached. âSo you⊠ran?â Â
âDuh.â He flicked your nose. âBest decision ever. Led me to you.â Â
You busied yourself with dishes to hide your blush. Satoru saw it, though. His tail swished in quiet victory, more like self-satisfaction. Â
Bedtime brought a fresh battle. Â
You had just finished a relaxing shower, your room smelled of lavender, the lingering scent of your body wash. Changing was meh. You changed in your tiny closet, worried Satoru might walk in and see you naked, but once done, and in your small, soft, very lacy nightgown, you felt more than ready to sleep.
But just as you lay down, you saw Satoru peeking through your cracked open door, his expression beyond cute, just as annoying. It was obvious where his eyes were, trailing your pert body. You felt his pretty blueâs burn harshly on your perky breasts, on your hips, put on display by your little nightgown.
âBad kitty,â you said, tossing a miffy plushie at Satoruâs smug face. Your cheeks turned rosy, bothered that a mere look from the man could make you so⊠shy. âYouâre sleeping on the couch.â Â
Heâd changed into your brotherâs old sweatpants (too short, clinging to his calves) and a Hello Kitty tee that stretched obscenely over his pecs, the hem riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. âBut itâs cold,â he whined, flopping onto your pink bed like an overpowered little prince with the caught plush in hand, well, not little. âAnd lonely. And scary.â Â
âYouâre a snow leopard. You are scary.â Â
âPlease?â He rolled onto his back, paws (hands? Hands.) clasped under his chin. Moonlight gilded his white, thick lashes, his eyes shimmering like twin lagoons. âIâll be a good boy. Promise.â Â
You lasted ten seconds. Â
âFine. But no funny business.â Â
He celebrated by rolling himself into a burrito with your Hello Kitty quilts, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth with his ridiculously strong arms. His purr rumbled through you, low and steady, his nose nuzzling your hair. Â
âHey,â you whispered, fingers brushing the collar still snug around his throat. âWhy donât you take this off?â Â
He stiffened, then sighed. ââŠItâs a reminder. That Iâm mine now. Not hers.â Â
Your heart squeezed. âYou are.â Â
âYours too, maybe,â he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it. Â
You fell asleep like that, his tail draped over your hip, his breath soft in your ear, his strong heartbeat like a gentle lullaby, and the strangest, sweetest sense that this jerk wasnât that much of a jerk. Â

The rhythm youâd carved out with Satoru was⊠peculiar, but precious. Mornings began with him sprawled across your chest like a living weighted blanket, his tail flicking your chin until you groaned awake, just like how he was in his cub form. Heâd trail you to the kitchen, stealing bites of your buttered, honeyed toast (despite his carnivorous hate for carbs) and sipping your orange juice straight from the carton, just to watch you squawk. Afternoons were for sunbeams, heâd claim the best patches of light, melting into a puddle of purrs near the TV, while you tackled textbooks at the table. Evenings? Those belonged to his obsession with your bathtub. Heâd soak for far too long, clouding the water with lavender bubbles, his ears peeking over the rim like misbehaving marshmallows. Â
When youâd come in to scold him, heâd pout and dry off, mumbling about how âmeanâ his owner is.Â
But today, something was off. Â
Youâd returned from class bone-tired, your brain still buzzing with equations, only to freeze in the genkan. The air hummed with a sticky sweetness, honey drizzled over sea salt, floral but feral. Your stomach flipped. âSatoruâŠ?â Â
No answer. Â
The apartment was eerily tidy. No half-eaten steak abandoned on the counter, no trail of shed fur leading to the couch. No Digimon reruns on TV⊠Just silence, thick and syrupy. Your pulse spiked as you crept toward the bedroom. Â
There, curled in a shivering heap on your rumpled sheets, was Satoru. Â
âOh my god-â You rushed to him, knees hitting the mattress. He clutched your pillow to his face, his knuckles white, breath ragged. His usual alabaster skin was flushed rose-pink, sweat glistening at his temples. The scent intensified here, heady, intoxicating, like orchids dipped in musk. Â
âSatoru, look at me,â you pleaded, cupping his jaw. His eyes cracked open, pupils blown so wide his irises were mere slivers of Arctic blue. They glowed faintly, fever-bright. âWhatâs wrong? Are you sick? Do you need-?â Â
âHeat,â he rasped, voice shredded. His claws snagged the pillowcase, threads snapping. âItâs- hah- not⊠not your problem. Just⊠go.â Â
âGo? Youâre burning up!â You pressed a cold, tiny palm to his forehead; he whimpered, nuzzling into your touch like a starved kitten. âWhy didnât you tell me this could happen?!â Â
ââCause itâs embarrassing,â he hissed, though the effect was ruined by how he arched into your hand, chasing your fingers as you brushed his hair back. âSnow leopards donât- nngh- donât do this every year. Just⊠when weâŠâ His throat bobbed. ââŠfind a mate.â Â
Your breath hitched. âOh.â Â
âNot that Iâm- ah- proposing,â he gritted out, tail lashing. âJust⊠biology being a dick. Iâll be fine. Go.â Â
But his body betrayed him. He shuddered violently, a broken whine escaping as he rutted against the mattress, hips stuttering. You saw the way his stiff cock pushed against the cotton of his pajamas, the way there was a tiny patch of wetness⊠pre cum staining the fabric. The motion sent a bolt of heat straight to your cheeks, but not more than the way the bed shook faintly, just a mere glimpse of how strong he is. Â
âStop being stubborn,â you whispered, climbing onto the bed. Your pink sundress rode up to your pretty thighs as you settled against the headboard, legs folded. âCâmere.â Â
Satoru stared at you, conflicted, pride warring with desperation. Then, with a tiny wounded noise, he crawled into your lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was trembling, his skin scorching through your clothes. Â
âShh, itâs okay,â you murmured, cradling his head. His ears flattened, velvety against your palms. âYouâre okay.â Â
âNot okay,â he choked out, fingers clawing the sheets instead of your hips- oh, never mind, his fingers started to knead your hips, like dough. âYouâre too⊠soft. Smell too good. Hate this.â Â
âI know,â you soothed, rocking gently. âJust breathe.â Funny thing is, your heart was racing, you should breathe too, but the way Satoru touched you went straight to your core, making you sticky, your panties clinging to the fluid.Â
You traced idle patterns over his back, avoiding the dip of his spine where his tail met skin, yet that didnât change a thing. He jerked, a guttural purr rattling his chest. You felt his lips on your neck, his fangs grazing your skin, begging to sink in, bite you as he fucked you senseless. âFuck, baby- donât- please- â Â
âDoes this help?â you asked softly, skimming your nails up his nape. Your cheeks burned as you saw the damp spot on his pajamas grow, like he was a leaking faucet of need.Â
âYes. No. Stop.â He gasped, hips rolling helplessly, uselessly. âDonât⊠donât tease me.â Â
You werenât, but hell, it felt like it. Your free hand rested on his tummy, shifting him a little to be comfier. Eyes trying to not stray to his weeping, cotton covered cock, the way it twitched, the way your core oozed more warm slick.
Satoru obviously caught on, having a sharp nose, but he just whined, feeling frustrated. He didnât want to hurt you, in any way, so he tried to avoid the thought of rutting into you, feeling your tight, warm, gummy insides hug his thick length tight, how heâd fill you with his warm, salty release, maybe watch it flow out as he fingered it back inâŠ
Fuck, this wasnât helping.Â
âIâm not,â you promised, heart aching. His anguish was palpable, a storm of need and restraint. âTell me what you need.â Â
âYou,â he keened, the word raw. âBut I canât- wonât- hngh- â Â
âShh.â You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, tasting salt. âIâve got you.â Â
Slowly, so slowly, you palmed his tummy, the muscles quivering beneath your touch. His breath hitched, a broken sound, but he didnât pull away. You mapped the planes of his abdomen, going lower despite your heart beating too fast, your body feeling warm, gentling him like a spooked kitten. His purr stuttered, deepened, until the bed vibrated with it. Â
Satoruâs breath hitched when your tiny hand brushed the very bottom of his tummy, near his pubic bone. His eyes widened, up on yours as his hands clung to your dress, unintentionally pulling it down, revealing your baby-pink lace-covered, pert breasts.
Your hand hesitantly ran over his stiff cock, lips parting at the sheer size of him, how girthy and long- was his dick curved? You almost fainted, but Satoruâs whine, paired with his puffy lips clinging to your now released nipple, brought you back.
What?
Your panties flooded, and you mewled softly, palming his aching cock as you watched him suckle on your nipple like a hungry baby. His eyes shut a little, and his ears- oh, his cute ears twitched with each suck. His hips jerked up desperately, whimpering nonsense onto your breasts. His sharp little fangs brush the sensitive skin, leaving you a mess.
You couldnât say no to him anymore. But you hadnât a clue how to please a man⊠Sure, you saw a few videos before, a girl jerking her hand up and down the length, the man groaning before he came, but was it the same to every man? You saw the way Satoru was almost crying as he suckled, basking in your palming, but far too needy, far too eager for more.
Who were you to deny him?
You gently pulled his pajamas down, eliciting a whimper from his pink lips, still stubbornly latched onto your nipple. His other hand now kneads your other breast, eyes up on you, looking far too innocent for the situation.Â
âShh, I got you, kitty. Let me take care of you.â Once his throbbing, girthy, long cock bobbed out from his pajamas, your eyes widened, pupils shifting to phantom hearts.
Holy shit.
Satoru was pure fantasy. His weeping dick, and swollen balls aching. His pinkish-red tip dribbled small amounts of milky release, his length covered in faint veins, curved faintly upwards, like a hook. Aroused was an understatement; you had the urge to sink down on him, despite your shy self, to feel his fat tip kiss your soft cervixâŠ
Satoru suckled harder, nipping on your nipple, massaging the other until pliant. You glanced down at him, softly whimpering along to him as you began to follow pure instinct, jerking him off.
âThere you go, kitty,â you whispered. âJust let go.â Â
He went boneless against you, limbs heavy, face barely hidden, his saliva bathing your now puffy nipple. His tail coiled around your ankle, an anchor.Â
Sweet thing hadnât uttered a coherent word the entire time; thatâs how gone he was. Your fingers grazed his swollen tip, adding more pressure to the length as you went up and down. Satoruâs whimper, alongside the jerk of his hips, with the hard nibble of your nipple, told you he was close.
So when his release fell like a waterfall, sticky white fluid spurting from his tip to his clenching tummy, all over your tiny hand, he trembled, ears twitching, tail shaking faintly. His lips didnât leave your nipple, though, saliva strand staying intact as he looked up to you half lidded, whining softly.
âThatâs it, baby⊠Such a good boy, hm?â You cooed softly, cheeks rosy, matching his. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, hands trembling softly. But when your sticky hand left his relaxed cock, he suckled more, almost begging to have some kind of physicality with you. Your hand cradling his head to your chest allowed him to, feeling your own arousal grow tenfold worse.
After a quick wipe of your sticky hand on his already messy pajamas, you let your hand rub his chest, noticing his sensitive spots far too easily. He whimpered quietly when your fingers lightly ran over his pink nipples, and when your nails brushed his collarbones.Â
By the time his breathing evened out, the room smelled of nothing but lavender, sticky release, and sleep. Â
His sleep.Â
Poor baby was worn out, overwhelmed from the pleasure, rightfully exhausted.Â
You didnât move until moonlight spilled through the curtains. Slipping away only to first get a warm, wet cloth to clean his tummy, then you changed into your coziest Miffy pajamas, pulling a new pair out for him too. You returned to find him sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. The collar glinted in the dark, like his release.
You gently cleaned his saliva-ridden lips and chin, then his tummy, making sure to get his snowy happy trail clean from release. After removing his dirty pajamas and pulling his new ones up, you threw the cloth and pants in the laundry hamper, settling beside him with burning cheeks and a full heart.
âStay,â he mumbled, hoarse but lucid, as you slid under the covers. Â
âWhere else would I go? Silly kitty.â You curled into his side, head on his chest. His heartbeat soothed you, a steady drum beneath your ear.
Pleasuring him was scary at first, but⊠Now in bed, all comfy and warm with him, you felt far more confident, less shy about it. Sure, your panties were slick, messy with what he caused, but youâd deal with it later; now it was all about Satoru, your baby.
He hesitated, then wrapped around you, his nose in your hair. ââŠThanks⊠âM sorry for-â Â
âBe quiet, âToru, donât say dumb stuff,â you teased. Â
He huffed a laugh, his ears burning pink, feeling surprisingly shy about being jerked off by his cute little owner. âShut up.â Â
But his big, warm arms tightened, his purr resuming, softer now, a lullaby. You kissed the hollow of his strong throat, just above the collar. Â
âNext time,â you whispered, âdonât suffer alone. Please.â Â
He didnât answer. Just nuzzled closer, his tail swathing your legs like the worldâs fluffiest blanket.Â
But when you slept and felt his cheek nuzzle into your breasts, you knew the answer already.
Silly kitty.

End.Â
Whoa! That was a lot, but I hope you truly enjoyed :) I wrote 90% of this half awake, since that's when my brain just locks in and spills the best writing I could ever pull out. I absolutely adore this little munchkin, so I will be making silly little drabbles, both sfw and nsfw, when I have the time. Btw, all my nsfw content is NOT for minors, and please do note I have this written in my intro, which is pinned. Take care of yourselves, lovelies :P
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen#snow leopard gojo!#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo fluff#hybrid gojo#jjk x reader#hybrid x reader#gojo x reader smut#sub gojo
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