#Water Softener Benefits

[3daqua]

How to Install a Water Softener in Your Home

Water quality plays a significant role in our everyday lives, affecting everything from our skin to our appliances. If you’ve noticed hard water issues like limescale buildup or dry skin, installing a water softener could be the solution you need. This article provides a comprehensive guide on how to install a water softener in your home, with a focus on the benefits of partnering with a top…

[slvttyplum]

sukuna won't stop talking during sex.

at first it was cute, endearing; you enjoyed it, but each time you were close to finishing, his never-ending words that slipped through your ears made you lose your edge.

right there, right there, keep going...

fuck.

one last thrust, and he turned on his back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, turning to look at you rolling your eyes while you turned to your side, grabbing your phone and laying on your back.

"what's your fucking problem?" sukuna sitting up against the headboard, his face in a scowl.

"what's my fucking problem? i can't fucking nut; that's my fucking problem." muttering to yourself as you flip over to your side, sukuna flipping you right back over, climbing on top of you, his weight resting on your legs

"what? since when? you finish every single time." a pout resting on his lips as he looked at you, scanning over your face then your chest, the realization setting in.

you stay quiet, rolling your eyes. it wasn't every time when you didn't finish, but it was every time where you did, a couple of minutes going by before you spoke.

"you just talk a lot, but that's something that can be fixed." a grin on your lips as you push him off of you.

a few minutes later, he was laid under you, with a piece of tape over his mouth. lining his dick with your entrance and slowly sliding down, your eyes fluttering as he fills you out.

your hands were placed firmly on his chest, holding most of your weight as your hips came down with full force, pleasure surging through you just the way you wanted it to, almost losing yourself.

sukuna's eyes watering, his hands on your hips and his nails digging into your flesh, his body shaking, trying to control how good he was feeling.

the more you moved up and down on him, the more annoyed he got. you felt so fucking good, the way you moved turned him on so much that it got him angry. this is what he was missing?

his moans muffled against the tape, tears falling down the corner of his eyes as his grip on your hips got tighter, his dick twitching inside of you, a long, drawn-out, muffled moan as his grip on you loosened.

it went on like this for an hour, his ego shattering completely each time you slid down on his dick.

still riding out your orgasm as he stares at you, his body still reacting to how good you felt, his vision blurry from tears, but he could still see that smile on your face.

you quickly rip off the tape, his dick still inside of you.

"see what happens when you shut the fuck up?" his face twisting into a scowl, gripping your hips again, a yelp escaping your lips as his hips buck into you.

"watch your mouth." his face softening as he feels you gripping against him. maybe he could benefit from not talking once in a while.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but��no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[diorchids]

friendly attachment, luke castellan.

cw: pure smut, fwb (friends w benefits), nerd!luke, roommate!luke, praise, alluding to religion, oral, fingering, breeding kink, attachment.

the way they’d sit crooked on his nose, his glasses were sleek, black specs that he had always left in your room. his forehead was slick with sweat as he pushed his cock deeper into your cunt. “luke,” your eyes were teary, sure to be puffy by morning, “you’re so good… so perfect.” and he’d just dumbly nod right along with you.

as much as he tried not to, he got attached.

you’d be on his bed, knees to your chest as your pretty holes were exposed to him. he’d kneel in front of the foot of the bed, hands all clammy before he planted a thumb on your clit. he’d circle it slowly, pressing down as he spoke under his breath, “beautiful. all mine.” maybe he was possessive. “don’t tease me, lukey, makin’ me wait…” you whined.

he’d nod and lean closer, inhaling the scent of your sweet nectar. you were god to him essentially, he’d worship your body, being in an indefinite spell under you.

luke would kiss your inner thighs before moving closer. it’s sweet. sugary sweet. he’d take the soft flesh of your cunt into his mouth, lapping gently before progressing into something animal-like. he’d hold your tummy in place as he savored every sweet juice that drips onto his tongue. he’d groan softly as he tastes your nectar, feeling the wetness of your cunt on his tongue. “more?” and you’d nod.

he slips two fingers in, curling them to rub against that perfect spot. that warm, tingly, delicious feeling in your clit–everywhere–threatened release. his fingers were deep, bruised knuckles only visible. you tried so hard not to cum on your friend.

you’d cry and moan pathetically as you came all over him, cunt pulsing as those salty tears began to stain your cheeks.

after, he’d just stand, pulling his fat cock out of his cock, pre-cum dripped onto sheets of his bed. he would tap his puffy tip on your clit, making you jerk your body. his hands were planted on your waist firmly as he pushed into you, cunt sucking him in perfectly.

you moaned loudly, the sounds reverberating around the room, other students being sure to hear. you cried so much, too, legs trembling out of control as he slammed into you.

your cunt drooled all over the bed, sticky juices at the base of his cock made him dig deeper. “too much, is it too much for you?” you were intoxicating—he couldn’t pull out of you.

“jus’ give me a baby, luke. let’s have a fucking baby.” as he moaned pathetically while your cunt milked him.

how pretty you’d looked, lips puffy, eyes watering, mascara running, eyes half-lidded; in all of your glory.

he couldn’t let go. no, this was real. you came messily under him, becoming overstimulated as he stuffed you even more, begging for him to move slower. he didn’t stop.

this was real.

he hunched over, holding you in his arms—giving you what you so desperately wanted.

your noses touched, and you looked the others eyes. he thrusts even harder his cock hitting all the best spots inside as he chased release. feeling you clench around his cock, luke holds you tighter, filling you with his hot cum as he groaned loudly.

he didn’t let go, no, he continued to hold you. his cock softened before releasing a few more spurts of his cum. you took it all. “my… my god.” he groaned.

and god you were.

[moonstruckme]

absolutely begging for a part 2 of the sirius angst blurb with reader being more distant during sex and sirius notices. obviously take your time and take care of yourself!! mwah mwah mwah. thank you for EVEN reading this request.

Thank you for requesting my love!

cw: smut mdni, p in v, miscommunication trope

part 1

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You think you’ve been doing a fairly decent job of staying out of your own head. You’re keeping intentionally focussed on Sirius’ body and the things it does to you. His tattooed biceps flexing, hands clutching your hips to guide your movements, pretty, perfect mouth forming your name. 

He says it again, getting your attention. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes. Sirius grins wickedly.

“Someone’s quiet today. You with me, gorgeous?” 

“Mhm.” You lay a hand over his chest and lean forward to drive him deeper inside you. 

He curses at the new fit, and you grin in a way you hope looks normal, clenching your walls around him. 

“Fuck,” Sirius hisses. “That’s my girl.” 

It’s like someone’s thrown a bucket of water on the heat in your core. Your stomach drops embarrassingly, because you’re not his girl. He’d made the restrictions of your arrangement very clear when he’d spoken to Remus last week. Why would Sirius call you that when you both know it’s not true? 

“Hey.” The boy beneath you catches on to your shift in mood quicker than you would have expected. He looks up at you bemusedly, his grip on your hips turning from possessive to conscientious. “You okay? Wanna stop?” 

You shake your head before you can think. “No, let’s keep going.” 

You try to find your rhythm again, but Sirius doesn’t match you. Dark brows descend over stormcloud eyes. 

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not into, dollface.” 

“You’re not,” you huff. 

He looks at you for a second, gaze unabashedly scrutinizing. “You’re upset,” he deduces. 

You laugh, incredulous. “I am not.” 

But Sirius has made his decision. His grasp on your hips strengthens again as he lifts you enough to pull out, slipping from underneath you and sitting up by your pillows. You purse your lips but put your underwear—a thong you hope he doesn’t think was for his benefit—back on when he does, taking the shirt he tosses you and tugging it over your head. 

Sirius sprawls out on his side, propping his chin on a hand. “Why the pout, hm?” 

“I’m not pouting.” 

He grins. “Yeah, you are.” 

And fine, you are, but not because of him. Because you’re still pissed at yourself for being hurt. For thinking, foolishly, that you would be fine with having Sirius over when he’d texted you that he was in the mood despite still nursing your wound from just a week before. Mortified at yourself for ever having cared, and worse for caring still. 

Sirius’ eyes soften as if he’s seen something in your expression. His grip is gentle beneath the teasing as he tugs you down by your arm, encouraging you to lay beside him. 

“Wanna tell me why?” he asks.

You do, actually. It makes frustration prickle over your skin to think about how much you’d love to tell him about this. You’d fallen into the habit, stupidly, of spilling your guts to Sirius about most things. He was already one of your closest friends, but with this new level of intimacy between you…you’d lost sight of boundaries that had existed for a reason. 

The last thing either of you need is for you to burden him with your emotions about this. 

“I’m not pouting,” you say again, obstinately. 

Sirius frowns. His hand crosses the short distance to your hip, one finger running absentmindedly over the hem of his shirt you’ve thrown on. 

“Something’s upset you,” he muses. “Is it me?” 

“No,” you say. 

Something flickers in Sirius’ eyes. “Liar.” 

Your lips part to argue, but it’s no use. He looks too certain. “How do you do that?” 

His lips quirk, but there’s not much humor in his expression. “It’s a gift. Gonna tell me how I fucked up, pretty girl?” 

You shake your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

It’s the truth this time, and Sirius can see it. His brow creases in puzzlement. 

“M’sure I did at some point,” he says softly. His fingers push the cotton of his t-shirt up your side, toying with your underwear. “You’re just too nice to blame me for it.” 

His knuckle brushes your hip as he runs his finger along the thin, silken fabric of your thong, and you don’t stop your eyes from going to the motion. You whisper, “Why do you touch me like this?” 

For a moment, Sirius’ expression shutters. “I thought this was what we did.” His voice is quiet, not quite question and not quite answer. “Do you not want me to touch you?” 

You do, too much. But for different reasons. Not just because you’re friends with this extra element to your relationship. You want him to touch you with something more. You want to touch him back in the same way, uninhibited. 

“It’s fine,” you say. 

“No, hey.” Sirius slips his finger from your thong. The fabric snaps back into place without much bite. “Don’t say that.” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

He looks hurt you would ask. “Say what you’re thinking.” 

You blow out a breath, rolling onto your back. You don’t want to look at him, but you can still feel his gaze on you, searching and worried. 

“It’s my fault,” you say, “okay? It’s really nothing to do with you, I just…got a bit caught up in all this and started feeling things I know we agreed not to.” You sneak a glance at him, eyes shooting back to the ceiling when they accidentally meet his. “I couldn’t help it, but I’m trying to get past it.” 

You hear Sirius’ hand whisper against the sheets as it inches towards you. It stops partway. “That’s alright,” he says, a gentleness you can’t bear in his voice. “Why would you think that’s something you had to hide from me? It’s bound to happen with these things.” 

You smile wryly. “Oh, because you’re so irresistible?” 

“I mean, for one thing.” You can feel the tingling of his grin directed at you, but it fades as he sobers. “But also just because it’s natural, you know? I think we were both a bit too sure of ourselves when we started doing this. It’s not so easy to separate out as we thought.” 

You turn your head to look at him. “You don’t seem to have any trouble.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows rise. “Why would you think that?” 

“Because…” You gesture flippantly with a hand. “Because of what you said to Remus last week. We’re just friends, no?” 

Sirius stills for a moment, and then the breath goes out of him in a single, long exhale. He lets his chin drop from his hand, resting his head on a curled arm. “You were privy to that conversation, were you?” 

You shrug. “James’ bathroom door isn’t as soundproofed as we thought.” 

He chuckles. “Guess we should have been more quiet.” 

You smile halfheartedly, and Sirius’ humor fades. He looks at you carefully. If you didn’t know him better, you’d think he was attempting the odd and unconventional practice of thinking before he speaks. 

“I’m not sure I said anything to Moony about what I was thinking,” he says after a minute. “I spoke about the terms of our arrangement, but I sort of avoided…putting my own feelings in the mix.” 

You’re not so careful with your words. After a week of stewing, you don’t have the patience. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sirius laughs through his nose like he can sense your agitation. “Just that I was more so making presumptions about how you felt than volunteering information on my own situation.” His hand creeps closer, making shushing noises against the sheets, until his fingertips are teasing your own. It sends zaps of energy all the way up your arm to the tips of your toes. You curl your legs in closer to you. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself,” Sirius says. “I was some pining twit who’d started having sex with a friend and then couldn’t keep my own feelings under control. What kind of idiot does that?” 

You feel your lips twitch. Sirius’ grin slashes across his face. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone that daft,” you say. 

His laugh is low and belly-deep. “Can I hug you, please?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, feigning reluctance despite the commotion in your stomach that’s getting harder to ignore. 

You start to sit up, but Sirius rolls right on top of you, pressing you into the bed and needling his arms underneath your shoulders. He smushes his cheek to yours. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, dollface,” he says, words breezing over your ear. “I could have saved us both a lot of time if I’d manned up and spoken to you about it.” 

You cross your wrists over his back and bring your knees up so they’re squeezing his sides. Sirius makes a ridiculously pleased humming sound. “It’s okay. I wasn’t planning on talking to you either.” 

He laughs, turning his face into yours so the sound vibrates against your temple. “One of us is going to have to pick up some emotional intelligence, else we’ll need James to referee our every interaction.” 

You squeeze him tight, happiness like a bubble close to bursting in your chest. “I dunno,” you say, and Sirius is clearly chuffed at the audible smile in your voice. He stamps a firm kiss of approval to your hairline. “I think we’ve done alright.” 

Contentment oozes from his tone, too. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

[msgexymunson]

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him? 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl) 

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day. 

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know. 

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview. 

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same. 

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you. 

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing. 

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie. 

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked. 

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities. 

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?” 

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.” 

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face. 

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.” 

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged. 

‘It's nothing, just a dress.” 

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back. 

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?” 

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!” 

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.  

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience. 

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!” 

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend. 

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?” 

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him. 

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?” 

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh. 

“Fifty dollars!” 

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air. 

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?” 

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward. 

“One hundred dollars!” 

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten. 

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels. 

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face. 

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?” 

The man at the back called out, “right here!” 

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid. 

“One thirty!” 

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.  

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy. 

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him. 

He's yours. 

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here. 

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer. 

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand. 

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!” 

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you. 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?” 

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie. 

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.” 

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him. 

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?” 

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?” 

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down. 

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?” 

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual. 

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her. 

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.” 

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone. 

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.” 

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-” 

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared. 

“-nevermind. Thank you.” 

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. 

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?” 

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind. 

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back. 

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.” 

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg. 

“Woof! Woo-” 

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you. 

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table. 

“What are you doing?” 

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie. 

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?” 

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.  

“This isn't a date, Eds.” 

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks. 

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest. 

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes. 

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise. 

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation. 

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.” 

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck. 

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let's get out of here.” 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences. 

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye. 

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.” 

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours. 

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?” 

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings. 

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee. 

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again. 

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?” 

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.” 

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine. 

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety. 

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?” 

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain. 

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.” 

“What else would I do?” 

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-” 

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.” 

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.” 

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts. 

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.” 

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee. 

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind. 

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.” 

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.” 

“I dated Wendy to get over you!” 

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means. 

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?” 

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut. 

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side. 

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally  charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back. 

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips. 

“I'm in love with you.” 

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.” 

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.” 

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge. 

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.” 

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss. 

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for- 

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.” 

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life. 

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin. 

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms. 

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away. 

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned. 

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.” 

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second. 

“Can we go to my bedroom?” 

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart. 

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties. 

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back. 

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso. 

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are. 

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?” 

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.” 

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least. 

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.” 

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.” 

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away. 

“Do I need to put a towel down?” 

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.” 

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything. 

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form. 

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.” 

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns. 

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact. 

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck. 

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot. 

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple. 

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.” 

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there. 

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten. 

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment. 

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?” 

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy. 

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” 

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh. 

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?” 

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard. 

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch. 

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring. 

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling. 

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot. 

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!” 

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to?  You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if- 

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?” 

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question. 

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-” 

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-” 

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.” 

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you. 

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips. 

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.” 

Sweet. You sound sweet. 

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment. 

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion. 

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!” 

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair. 

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed. 

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down. 

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?” 

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you. 

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.” 

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear. 

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused. 

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.” 

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.” 

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him. 

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again. 

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.” 

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk. 

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.” 

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut. 

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.” 

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-” 

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes. 

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction. 

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?” 

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire. 

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.” 

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in. 

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!” 

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”  

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks. 

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.” 

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.” 

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving. 

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head. 

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?” 

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again. 

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.” 

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Eddie, I lo-” 

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?” 

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him. 

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!” 

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem. 

“Right there princess?” 

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan. 

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.” 

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back. 

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily. 

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts. 

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire. 

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.” 

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse. 

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness. 

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.” 

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Eddie, that was perfect.” 

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time. 

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling. 

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.” 

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind. 

“Right, now, just hang on.” 

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat. 

“I can change the sheets if you want-” 

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.” 

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief. 

“Eddie? Can I say it now?” 

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening. 

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.” 

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.” 

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[mya-valentine]

February 8th - Kissin' On My Tattoos by August Alsina - Trafalgar D. Water Law x Reader

The sound of waves lapping against the hull of the Polar Tang filled the quiet night. Inside the submarine, the hum of the engine was the only other sound. Trafalgar D. Water Law sat in his captain's quarters, his pen lazily tracing across a document. But his golden eyes were unfocused, not paying attention to the report in front of him.

He was thinking about you.

Law cursed under his breath, tossing the pen onto the desk and leaning back in his chair. This wasn’t like him—he wasn’t supposed to get attached, wasn’t supposed to care. But here he was, tangled in something that was far more complicated than just a physical connection.

The arrangement was simple at first: friends with benefits. No strings, no complications, no expectations. You both agreed to it, and for a while, it worked. Law was busy with his duties as a captain, and you had your own life, your own freedom. Neither of you wanted anything serious, or at least, that’s what you told each other.

But lately, things felt different.

Especially tonight.

He hadn’t seen you all day, which was unusual. You usually sought him out when you were on the ship, teasing him, making sly remarks, or just sitting in his room, pretending not to care while secretly craving his attention. But today, you were nowhere to be found.

And then Bepo casually mentioned that you had gone ashore earlier, dressed up more than usual, to meet someone in the nearby town.

Law’s jaw tightened at the memory. The idea of you out there, laughing, smiling, possibly touching someone else—it set his teeth on edge. He hated the way his chest ached at the thought. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. It couldn’t be.

But deep down, he knew better.

It was late when you returned to the ship, the soft creak of the gangplank alerting Law to your arrival. He didn’t bother waiting; he was already heading toward the main deck by the time you stepped aboard.

You looked surprised to see him, your lips curving into a sly smile as you saw the way his arms were crossed over his chest, his amber eyes narrowing at you.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain Grumpy,” you teased, stepping closer. “Miss me?”

“Where were you?” he asked bluntly, ignoring your attempt at humor.

You arched a brow. “Out.”

“Out where?”

“Are you interrogating me now?” you shot back, crossing your arms to mirror his stance. “I didn’t realize I needed to report my every move to you.”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t. But it’s late, and you’ve been gone all day. The crew was worried.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “The crew, huh? Or just you?”

Law didn’t answer, but the way his gaze bore into yours said enough.

“Relax, Law,” you said, your tone softening. “I just had dinner with someone, that’s all.”

The way you said it—so casually, so effortlessly—made his stomach churn. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of you sitting across from someone else, sharing smiles and laughter that he thought belonged to him, even if he had no right to claim them.

“Was it good?” he asked, his voice tight.

You tilted your head, studying him. “The food? Yeah, it was fine. The company? Eh, I’ve had better.”

Something flickered in his eyes at your words, but he quickly masked it, turning on his heel and heading back inside.

“Law,” you called after him, your footsteps echoing as you followed. “What’s your problem?”

He didn’t stop until he reached his quarters, pushing the door open and stepping inside. You were right behind him, closing the door as he turned to face you.

“My problem,” he began, his voice low and controlled, “is that you act like this doesn’t mean anything. Like it’s just some game.”

Your breath hitched at his words, but you quickly recovered, crossing your arms again. “Isn’t that what we agreed on? No strings, no drama? You’re the one who wanted it that way, remember?”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You stared at him, caught off guard by his honesty. “Law…”

“I don’t want to share you,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t want to think about someone else touching you, kissing you, making you laugh.”

Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours. His hand reached out, brushing against your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“I want you to myself,” he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “Is that so hard to believe?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you did the only thing you could think of—you kissed him.

His lips crashed against yours, and all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away in that moment. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

The kiss deepened, and soon you found yourself being guided toward his bed. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t just about physical desire—it was about something more.

Law pulled away just enough to look at you, his breathing heavy. “You’re not going anywhere tonight,” he said, his voice firm.

You smirked, running your fingers along the tattoos on his chest, tracing the letters inked into his skin. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Your lips followed the path of your fingers, pressing kisses to his tattoos. You could feel his muscles tense under your touch, his breath hitching as you paid special attention to the black letters that spelled out “DEATH” across his fingers.

“You’ve got some interesting marks, Captain,” you teased, your voice soft.

“They’re not just marks,” he replied, his voice low. “They mean something.”

You paused, looking up at him. “And what do they mean?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “They’re reminders. Of who I am. Of what I’ve lost.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him again, pouring all your emotions into the gesture. You wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his past by himself.

“Whatever they mean,” you whispered against his lips, “they’re a part of you. And I like all of you, Law.”

The night stretched on, and the two of you remained tangled together, your bodies and souls entwined in a way that went far beyond the physical.

By the time the sun began to rise, you were curled up against him, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, and for once, he seemed at peace.

“You know this changes things, right?” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah. I know.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “No more games. No more pretending this doesn’t matter.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “No more games,” you agreed.

For the first time in a long time, Trafalgar Law felt like he had something—someone—worth fighting for. And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he could finally let himself be happy.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[lumosou]

୨୧ — Beneath the Dungeon’s Shadows, Where Rivalry Softens to Heat. 𖦹 + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Slytherin!Harry J. Potter x Ravenclaw!Fem!Reader.

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; A shared detention in the dungeons forces you and Slytherin’s Harry Potter to confront your simmering rivalry. But as the tension deepens, so does something unexpected—and far more dangerous. 1.7k.

ꕤ — Discretion ; Some kissing and banter, mostly silly and fluffy! Harry wants reader BADDD..

ꕤ — A/n ; hehe hi guys! I’m OBSESSED with slytherin!harry so naturally, I needed to make a fic with him, have fun reading <3

; masterlist.

Detention with Harry Potter was not how you’d planned to spend your evening. The dungeon air was damp and cold, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the rows of potion shelves you’d been tasked with scrubbing. It was miserable, thankless work, made worse by the fact that you weren’t alone.

“Do you always mutter when you’re annoyed, or is it just for my benefit?” Harry’s voice cut through the quiet, smug and smooth, as he rinsed a rag in the basin at the end of the aisle. You didn’t bother turning around. “Do you always talk just to hear yourself, or is it your way of coping with failure?”

There was a pause, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself. You’d hit a nerve. “Remind me who got us into this mess,” Harry said, his tone deceptively calm. “Oh, right—it was you, spilling your potion everywhere because you were too busy glaring at mine.”

You straightened, spinning on your heel to face him. He was leaning casually against the shelf, rag in hand, his green tie loosened and his hair even messier than usual. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and you hated how annoyingly good he looked under the dim dungeon light.

“You distracted me,” you snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Did I? Must’ve been doing something right, then.” You glared at him, your grip tightening around your own rag. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

The two of you worked in tense silence for a while, the only sounds the faint drip of water from the basin and the occasional clang of glass vials. The shelves seemed endless, each one packed with dusty jars and unidentifiable ingredients, and your fingers were already sore from scrubbing.

“Honestly,” Harry said after a while, breaking the quiet again, “you could just admit you were impressed.” You frowned, glancing over your shoulder. “Impressed by what?”

“My potion,” he said simply, as if it were obvious. You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. It wasn’t that good.”

Harry straightened, stepping closer. “Snape seemed to think otherwise.” “Snape’s biased,” you shot back, turning to face him fully.

Harry tilted his head, studying you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Or maybe you just hate losing.” Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, you turned back to the shelf, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain with renewed vigor.

“You know,” he continued, his voice softer now, “you don’t have to try so hard to beat me.” You froze, your hand stilling mid-scrub. Slowly, you turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Harry’s expression was unreadable, his green eyes steady as they met yours. “I’m just saying… You’re already brilliant. You don’t have to prove anything.” The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Harry shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Take it however you want.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. The tension in the room had shifted, subtle but undeniable, and you suddenly felt very aware of how close he was standing.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, until you finally turned back to the shelf. “Just keep scrubbing,” you muttered, your cheeks warm.

Harry didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he returned to his own shelf.

For the next hour, the two of you worked side by side, the initial animosity softening into something quieter. There was still the occasional barb, still the playful glint in Harry’s eyes when he caught you glaring at him, but it felt different now. Less like rivalry and more like… understanding.

By the time you finished the last shelf, your hands were raw and your legs ached from standing, but the work was done. You leaned against the edge of the basin, wiping your hands on your robes, and let out a long breath.

“Well,” you said, glancing at Harry, “that was miserable.” He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“You could’ve been stuck here alone,” he said, his tone light but teasing. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

Harry grinned, his green eyes bright with amusement. “Too late.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you felt the faintest pang of regret. Detention was over, and with it, the strange, unexpected connection that had formed between you. But as you reached the door, Harry’s voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think you’re insufferable.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Oh,” you said softly, your chest tightening. “Well, you’re not as terrible as I thought, either.” A slow smile spread across Harry’s face, and for a moment, the dungeon felt a little less cold.

“See you tomorrow, then?” he said, his voice light but full of something unspoken.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you stepped into the corridor, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow would feel different.

Somehow, you already knew it would.

The next day, the tension between you and Harry felt different. Subtle, but there.

You caught him watching you during Potions, his green eyes flicking your way every time you adjusted the flame under your cauldron. You tried to ignore him, pouring all your focus into perfecting your Draught of Peace. And it worked—for a while.

Until Harry spoke.

“Need help with that?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the soft murmurs of the classroom. You looked up sharply, your ladle pausing mid-stir. “I’m perfectly capable, thanks.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But if you’re still scrubbing potion shelves next week, don’t say I didn’t offer.” You glared at him, but before you could respond, Snape’s voice cut through the room.

“Miss your own cauldron, Potter?”

Harry straightened, his smirk fading as Snape’s dark eyes narrowed on him.

“Five points from Slytherin for your inability to stay silent,” Snape said coldly. “Focus on your own work.”

Harry ducked his head, his cheeks faintly pink, and you couldn’t help the small spark of satisfaction that bloomed in your chest.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the library again, hoping for some peace and quiet to make up for the distractions of the day. But of course, peace was too much to ask for.

You’d barely settled into your seat when Harry appeared, his tie loosened and his bag slung over one shoulder. He didn’t say anything as he slid into the chair across from you, but the faint smile on his face said enough.

“Didn’t you get enough of me in detention?” you asked dryly, flipping open your notebook.

“Not even close,” he said, his voice light but teasing.

You sighed, your quill scratching against the parchment as you scribbled out a list of potion properties. “What do you want, Potter?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Maybe I just like your company.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but the words lacked bite. ‘’And yet, you haven’t hexed me yet,” he replied, grinning. You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth despite yourself.

Over the next few days, Harry seemed to appear wherever you were—at breakfast, in the library, even lingering in the corridor outside the Great Hall between classes.

At first, it was infuriating. His constant presence, his teasing remarks, the way his smirk seemed to soften into something almost fond when he caught you staring too long. But slowly, your frustration began to fade, replaced by something else.

Curiosity.

It wasn’t just the way he teased you, or the way his green eyes sparkled with amusement every time you rose to his bait. It was the quieter moments, too. The way he held the door open for you without a word, or the way he offered you a piece of chocolate during a late-night study session without expecting anything in return.

You hated how much you noticed him.

But you hated how much you liked it even more.

It was during another shared detention a week later that everything came to a head. This time, the two of you had been tasked with organizing Snape’s potion ingredients—a tedious, mind-numbing job that required sorting through dozens of dusty jars and vials.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you muttered, brushing a layer of dust off a jar labeled Pickled Billywig Stingers.

Harry snorted, holding up a jar of slimy, unidentifiable roots. “Could be worse. He could’ve made us drink this stuff.”

You wrinkled your nose, but before you could reply, your foot slipped on a loose stone. You stumbled, nearly knocking over an entire shelf of glass jars, but Harry caught you, his hands steadying you before you could fall.

“Careful,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren’t sure if it was from the near-miss or the way his hands lingered at your waist, warm and grounding. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The dungeon seemed to fade away, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing yours so softly it was almost a question. But when you didn’t pull away—when you kissed him back—he deepened it, his hands tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

It was like everything else fell away. The rivalry, the teasing, the endless arguments—it all dissolved into the heat of his kiss, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers curled against your hip like he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you.

“Well,” Harry said after a moment, his voice low and amused. “I guess detention isn’t all bad.” You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

But as his lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind his luck.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[flickering-chandelier]

I’ll Look After You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: hurt/comfort vibes. Azriel comes back from a mission all beat up and Reader forces him to lay back and be taken care of.

Word Count: 1.7k

You were well aware that your mate was amazing at his job. The best of the best, especially with the additional benefit of his shadowsinger abilities.

This knowledge, however, did not stop you from anxiously wringing your hands every time you knew he was going off on a dangerous mission, especially when he was going alone.

Especially when he said he would be back by now and he still wasn’t.

Normally, you were quite quiet and reserved, not usually one to pick a fight, especially with your High Lord. Unless, of course, your mate was in danger. Then, all bets were off.

You stormed into Rhysand’s study, where he and Cassian were deep in conversation. Rhys looked at you with resignation, and you knew that he was well aware of why you had come bursting through his door without so much as a knock.

“He’s not back yet,” you choked out.

“I know,” Rhysand said. He was using his High Lord voice, the one that he used to assure everyone that he had everything under control.

“Why isn’t he back yet?” You felt your anger and your panic rising, heard your voice crack.

“I don’t know,” Rhysand said gently. “But--”

“But nothing,” you snapped. “Go get him.”

Rhysand raised his eyebrows, clearly saying without saying, this is how you’re speaking to your High Lord right now?

But he knew you well enough that he didn’t seem truly offended.

Cassian finally spoke up, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You know we can’t do that. Nobody can know where we have him snooping around. The only reason he went alone is because we can’t hide in the shadows.”

You were about to snap at him, too, when you felt a tug through the bond. “He’s here,” you practically shrieked, sprinting out of the room and out to the balcony where you knew he landed as fast as you could.

It was an effort to hold in your gasp as you saw him staggering towards the doorway, one hand clutching his side, his armor bloody, his wings drooping behind him.

You flung open the door, and wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could. “Az,” you said, choking on your sob.

Despite his injuries, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I’m okay, baby,” he rasped.

You had to bite down your comment that, no, he certainly was not. You put an arm around his waist and he slung his free arm over your shoulder. He was still clutching his side as you led him to your shared bedroom.

Rhysand and Cassian were in the hallway as you passed. “Do you need any--” Cassian said.

The glare you shot them both silenced him.

Azriel chuckled, and then groaned, like it pained him. “You weren’t picking a fight with the High Lord and the commander of armies over me, were you?”

“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth.

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with amusement. That, at least, was a good sign.

When you finally reached your room, you led him into your bathroom, helping him sit on the side of the massive tub.

You started running the water, and then stepped back to survey him. “How bad is it, really?” you said, quietly, trying to keep your tears at bay. That wouldn’t do anybody any good right now.

“I’ve had worse,” he grunted.

Raising an eyebrow, you looked pointedly at where his scarred hands were still clutching his side. The fact that he’d been in worse pain before was not very reassuring to you right now. “Do you need the healer?”

“No,” he said, shooting you a soft smile that you were sure he saved only for you. “I just need you.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for the fact that he could still make you blush at a time like this. You crossed over to him and gently tugged on his armor, pulling it off of his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply and your eyes darted to his. “I’m fine.” he groaned. “Just rip it off.”

You absolutely would not be doing that. Taking your time, wincing at every hiss and grunt he made, you eventually got all of his armor off, until he was sitting naked before you, and you were able to survey his injuries.

His side was clearly the worst of it, an open, bleeding wound near his ribs. But it was already starting to heal up a bit. You got out a washcloth and held it under the warm water before lightly dabbing his side, cleaning it as gently and quickly as you could.

Your mate’s eyes watched your every movement. “Are you okay?” he asked, quietly.

“Me?”

Azriel smiled faintly. “I know how you get when I’m out longer than expected.”

You finished cleaning the wound on his side, and took one of his hands in your own, setting his forearm on your lap, starting to clean a cut there. “How would you know how I get?”

“You think Cassian and Rhys don’t tell me? And even if they didn’t, I know you well enough, my love.”

“You cannot honestly be worrying about me right now,” was all you could say, looking at him pointedly, gesturing with the bloody rag in your hand. You wouldn’t tell him that you were okay, not when it was a lie.

“Of course I am,” he said quietly. You were focused on his wounds, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, stop,” you said, you tried to make it sound light and teasing, but it didn’t come out quite right.

He laughed, the sound deep and booming. “Stop? Worrying about my mate? Absolutely not.”

You sighed, surveying him. Many of the smaller cuts and bruises he had arrived with were already healed, and the bigger ones you had cleaned were starting to, now that they were cleaned, but it still wasn’t as fast as usual. Some of these cuts were deep.

The look on your face must have spelled out all your fears to your mate. He gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your face upward, his eyes so full of love and reassurance as he gazed at you. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Words wouldn’t come, stuck in your throat. He gingerly guided your face to his, his hand still on your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his. Azriel kissed you slowly and deeply, as if trying to prove to you that he was in fact, feeling okay.

He moaned into your mouth, hands roaming down your body. You broke the kiss, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?” he smirked. “I told you, I’m fine.”

You cocked your head to the side, gesturing to the bathtub, which was now full with warm water. “Get in.”

A choked, incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You came home bleeding and limping. You need to rest before you do any of that.”

He groaned in frustration, but obeyed, gingerly lowering himself into the tub, his wings stretching out behind him.

When he was settled, he cocked his head to the side. “Does this please you, my love?” His voice was velvet, his eyes sparkling, a side of him you couldn’t have imagined before you knew you were his mate.

Silently, you retrieved another washcloth, lathering it with soap and water, before rounding behind him, cleaning his back in slow, gentle circles.

He tilted his head back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. You smirked, even though he couldn’t see it.

Once you were done washing his back, you tossed the washcloth into the water in front of him with a splash. “Keep cleaning,” you ordered.

“What, you’re not going to help me?” Az teased, reaching for the cloth and running it up and down his arms.

He moaned suddenly as your hands went to his back, massaging his tight, sore muscles. You kept going and going until all the knots were gone, eliciting filthy sounds from Azriel’s mouth.

Azriel sighed contentedly when you were finally done, and you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I was really scared,” you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He held onto your arms, leaning his cheek into yours. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

You buried your face into his neck. “You don't have to be. I’m just -- I’m really glad you’re okay,” you mumbled against his skin.

He tapped your arm, and you stood up so he could get out of the tub. You handed him a towel, and he wrapped it around his waist, eyeing you carefully.

“Come here,” he murmured, taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom. He dropped the towel before sliding into the bed, pulling you along with him. You settled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest as he traced small circles on your shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll always fight my hardest for you. To come back home to you.”

You made a strangled sound, pressing your face into his chest.

Holding you tighter, he said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Sorry I got bossy,” you mumbled into his skin.

He laughed, kissing the top of your head. “You know I love it when you get a little bossy.”

You lifted your head up finally to smile up at him.

Smiling sweetly, he took your chin in his hand again, bringing your mouth to his in a kiss that started out gentle and loving, but quickly turned heated.

Gripping your back, he smoothly flipped you over in one movement, so he was hovering over you, his naked body pressing into yours.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, heat flooding through you. “Are you sure you’re up for--”

“I’m sure,” he growled into your skin, kissing sensually down your neck.

He grinned at you, sliding his hands beneath your clothes, ready to pull them over your head. “You’ve made me feel so much better.”

[theambitiouswoman]

Benefits of apple cider vinegar 🍏✨

• Skin toner: Clears & balances

• pH balance: Supports vaginal health in a diluted bath

• Face masks: Adds glow & fights acne

• Hair rinse: Boosts shine & reduces dandruff

• Salad dressing: Adds flavor & aids digestion

• Cleaning: Natural disinfectant

• Fruit & veggie wash: Removes dirt & pesticides

• Immune boost: Rich in antioxidants & antimicrobial

• Digestive aid: Supports gut health when taken diluted

• Appetite control: May help curb cravings

• Blood sugar balance: Helps regulate levels

• Sore throat relief: Mix with warm water to soothe

• Foot soak: Softens skin & fights odor

• Sunburn relief: Calms redness when diluted

[3daqua]

How Much Water Softener Resin Do I Need?

Water softeners are essential for households that experience the negative effects of hard water, including scale buildup in appliances, dry skin, and ineffective cleaning. At the heart of many water softening systems is resin, which plays a crucial role in removing hardness minerals like calcium and magnesium from water. If you’re considering installing a water softener or need to replace the…

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Jealousy

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic behavior, multiple orgasms,

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Over the next few weeks, you and Damian developed a comfortable friendship. He rarely texted, preferring to call when he wanted to study together. The moments you shared felt... nice.

You’d catch yourself wanting to talk to him about things that had nothing to do with school. You’d find a meme or finish a good book, and a small voice in your mind would tell you to share with him. You’d wonder what he’d think, what hobbies he might have - what he was like outside of the carefully constructed persona he held at Gotham U. But each time you yearned for something more personal, you felt like you were crossing a line.

One evening, you were studying at his place. Damian sat across from you on his enormous leather couch, his laptop resting on his sweatpants-clad lap. The screen’s glow flickered over his bare chest, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbone and the shine of his chain as he casually tossed a cracker into his mouth. You, on the other hand, had shed your skirt and blouse hours ago, left in just your yoga shorts and tank top, too tired to continue wearing your outside clothes. You had let down your hair, which had been pulled back painfully all day. The relief of it cascading over your shoulders felt like a victory.

"Did you know that Kace is doing research on Gotham's water distribution?" you asked.

Damian glanced up, nodding slightly as if he'd already known. "Yeah, I’ve heard a little about it. It’s a pretty big project."

"Very," you replied enthusiastically. "It’s funded by the municipality. A real opportunity."

His brow arched, clearly impressed. "That’s great."

"I applied to join the project," you added, crossing your fingers. "I’m hoping Kace will take me on. It’s a researcher’s dream, and having a reference from him would be huge."

Damian’s gaze softened, and he smiled that rare smile he'd had only when you spoke about a new discovery or theory.

What he did next surprised you. He set aside both of your laptops and laid his head in your lap. The sudden intimacy caught you off guard, your breath quickening.

"I’m tired of thinking," he murmured, voice low, his head resting comfortably against your thighs. "Let’s watch something."

Your heart raced. Slowly, carefully, your hand reached to brush the strands of his hair back. When your fingers grazed his scalp, he let out a quiet, satisfied hum, the kind of sound that made your stomach flutter and had you scratching at his hair more purposefully.

"What do you want to watch?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"Something mindless," he replied, eyes still closed.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

One day, after your physics lecture ended and the room emptied, you stayed behind, scribbling a few last-minute notes. Damian lingered, sitting beside you, his fingers traced the hem of your checkered skirt, his thigh resting close enough to yours to occasionally brush against it. The casual proximity, the touches always left you breathless while he seemed unaffected. You bit your lip, your pulse quickening as you put your notebook away and mustered up the courage to ask what had been on your mind for weeks.

“Damian,” you started softly, “would you want to... maybe go out sometime?”

His thigh immediately stilled.

“Go out?” His voice was calm, almost amused. “Like on a date?”

You nodded, looking to where his fingers had frozen, tangled in the fabric of your skirt.

“I thought you weren’t interested in dating,” he said, his tone calculated and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat. “I wasn’t at first. But, well... isn’t that kind of what we’ve been doing?” You elaborated. “We spend all this time together, and we’ve been... intimate.”

Damian turned slightly, leaning closer until his piercing green eyes were at your level. This conversation started to feel more like an interrogation when he asked, “Why?” his tone curious. “Why do you want to date me?”

The question hit you like a splash of cold water. “What?”

He tilted his head, studying your reaction. “Why do you want to date me?”

You blinked. Of all the things he could have said, this wasn’t what you expected. “I... well, because-”

“You don’t know,” he interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the kind that made you feel small, like he’d just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing.

“I do know.” You blurted out. “I just didn’t expect that question.”

He sighed. “Our arrangement works, doesn’t it? You get what you want. I get what I want. There’s no need to complicate things.”

Your chest tightened. “I guess. But... you’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “No.”

“Me either,” you said quickly. “So... what do you call that?”

Damian’s brow arched, and the sharpness in his gaze felt like a warning. “What are you trying to get me to say, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard, realizing how he was twisting your words. “I’m not trying to get you to say anything,” you muttered, but your voice wavered with frustration and hurt. His silence, the way he just sat there, watching you struggle, was answer enough.

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag, trying to hide the burning in your cheeks and the sting behind your eyes. “Never mind,” you mumbled, more to yourself than him.

Without another word, you turned and left.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Oh, I do not need this right now, Damian thought, dodging a swift punch from his brother, narrowly avoiding what would’ve been a bruising hit.

"Do you... maybe want to go out sometime?"

Your words echoed in his mind. The way your voice wavered slightly, vulnerable, soft. A vision of you flickered in his imagination. Eyes wide, expectant, waiting for him to answer.

Damian barely registered the next strike coming his way. He flipped back, gritting his teeth as he refocused. Concentrate.

Dick often took it easy on him during training. It was something Damian usually resented, a constant reminder that his older brother still saw him as the kid who needed coddling. Dick always joked that since Damian was the baby of the family, hurting him would "break his heart." Absolute bullshit.

Damian had taken on Nightwing for the first time when he was fourteen, and even then, Dick had held back. But now - now he was in his twenties, a fully trained assassin capable of holding his own against anyone. There was no excuse for Dick not to come at him with everything he had.

Yet here they were again, Damian on the mat, his brother watching him with that infuriatingly knowing look.

"You're distracted," Dick commented, arms crossed, his stance casual.

"No, I'm not," Damian snapped. "Let's just get this over with."

Dick raised a brow, spinning his staff a few times as he stretched his shoulders. "Got somewhere to be?" he asked, throwing a few experimental swings. "You usually live for the chance to knock me around for a couple hours."

Damian’s jaw tightened, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Dick had a habit of slipping into therapist mode. Usually, Damian let him - mostly because Dick was annoyingly good at it, and it gave his older brother some sense of satisfaction. But today, Damian had no patience for it. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.

But the image of you lingered.

The look on your face when he’d rejected you—polite, almost cold—played in the back of his mind. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you. Not like that. He had a life already too complicated, too dangerous for something like... a relationship. But still, your expression had haunted him. It made something deep inside him twist, the part of him that hated vulnerability, hated seeing it, hated feeling it.

Then a thought struck him - someone else. Someone else making you smile, laugh, touching you the way he had. A vision of you looking at a man the way you look at Damian. It was infuriating. The idea of someone else seeing you come undone, hearing you cry out in pleasure - of someone else having power over you - made his blood boil. His jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising, and his movements faltered again.

He cursed under his breath as he nearly took another hit from Dick. Focus.

But it was too late. His moves were sloppy now, more reactive than calculated, each punch and kick lacking the precision he normally prided himself on. Dick, of course, noticed immediately.

“Seriously, what’s going on with you?” Dick asked as they moved into the second hour of their sparring session. “You’re not anticipating my moves like you usually do. I’m pulling my punches, and you’re still off your game.”

Damian clenched his fists, feeling the frustration build in his chest. He could hear Dick's words, but the memory of your voice, soft and hopeful, drowned everything else out.

"I... I don’t have time for this right now," Damian muttered under his breath.

"What’s 'this'?" Dick pressed, but Damian didn’t answer.

His footwork became more rushed, his fists less controlled. And that’s when it happened. Dick moved faster than Damian anticipated, his staff coming up just as Damian lunged forward. A solid punch landed squarely against Damian’s mouth.

Pain flashed through him. He stumbled, tasting blood on his lip.

“You want to talk about it now?” Dick asked.

Damian wiped his mouth, glaring. "There's nothing to talk about," he ground out, stepping back into position.

But Dick didn't let up, standing his ground, his expression softening in that way Damian hated - like he was waiting for Damian to let down his guard, to open up. "You know, whatever’s going on in your head, it’s not worth getting your face smashed in over."

Damian scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. He wiped the corner of his mouth where a trace of blood threatened to form, his green eyes flashing with an edge. He straightened up, cracking his neck as he reset his stance. “If you hit any softer, Dick, I’d think you were the one who has something going on with his head."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Nikolas Hill was a one year your senior, majoring in Econometrics and balancing his life as captain of Gotham U's swimming team and a straight-A student. He was also the oldest son of Gotham's current mayor Archibald Hill, a fact which he seldom mentioned himself though it was always brought up by someone else.

You, Nick, and seven other students were accepted to Professor Kace's water system project, and you worked well together. To your surprise, Nick was vastly knowledgeable about the research content. He told you he wanted to major in engineering, but econ was "where the cuties were," with a wink.

"Werent there enough cuties on the swim team?" You teased.

Nickolas raised a perfect blond brow and flashed his signature smile. "Dude, swimmers have like, no ass. That is a fact."

"I apologize," You laughed, mocking, clicking on the analytics report you two prepared.

A week later, he asked you for your number.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian was waiting for you outside the lab when you stepped out with Nikolas Hill. His presence was impossible to miss—leaning casually against the wall in his polo and leather jacket combination and towering almost any student who passed him. His sharp gaze locked onto the two of you the moment you appeared, laughing at something Nick said.

You instantly noticed a cut across his bottom lip when you neared him, prompting you to ask. "Damian, what happened?" Your voice was barely above a wisper, filled with concern.

His brows lifted slightly in surprise at the sight of your companion. “Hill,” Damian greeted him, his tone cool and familiar, like they’d known each other for years, though not in a way that suggested they were friends.

“Wayne,” Nikolas responded in kind, matching Damian’s neutral tone, though there was an underlying challenge in his voice.

Damian’s eyes shifted between you and Nikolas, narrowing slightly. “You two working together?” he asked, his question directed at you but intercepted by Nikolas.

“Yeah,” Nikolas answered smoothly before you could open your mouth. “We got paired up for the municipal water ledger research. Lucky us.”

There was a sharp edge to Damian’s smile, and he let out a low, sarcastic, “What a coincidence.”

The implication behind his words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable: Nikolas had only gotten the position because of his father.

You felt your own smile falter as the tension between them rose, making the hallway seem smaller.

Nikolas chuckled lightly, undeterred. “Don’t get it twisted, Wayne. I know it must be nice, being Bruce's kid and all, but some of us actually had to work to get here.”

Damian raised a brow, eyes glinting dangerously. “Seventeenth in your program, if I remember correctly?”

Nikolas leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “Adorable, isn’t it? He does his homework.”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You couldn’t help but notice the way Damian’s lips tightened when Nikolas inched closer to you. His expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw flexing under the weight of his glare.

Straightening back up, Nikolas shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “Unfortunately, my dad didn’t donate enough to bump me up a few spots.”

Damian’s grin returned, though it was more venomous than friendly. It was the kind of smile that didn’t touch his eyes, and you could feel the crackling tension between the two, like a live wire ready to snap. “Right,” Damian drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure being the mayor’s son really held you back. It’s not too late to apply for ‘Make-A-Wish,’.”

You swallowed, the urge to leave growing stronger with every passing second. You were sure they wouldn't mind. They seemed perfectly content engaging in their verbal sparring. But the way Damian was looking at you that made your skin prickle with discomfort - his gaze searing into you like a brand.

Nikolas shot back without missing a beat, his grin widening. “Not all of us get to play the ‘Prince of Gotham,’ though, do we?”

The title hung in the air. It was a label once meant for Damian's father, but now it had been thrust upon Damian since the world learned that Bruce Wayne had an heir. It wasn’t just a title. it was a pedestal, an expectation that idealized Damian as something more than human, something untouchable and better than everyone else. And right now, as his jaw clenched and his green eyes blazed with a darkness that sent a shiver down your spine, you wondered which Damian you were looking at - your friend and classmate, or Gotham’s heir apparent?

With the way his gaze bore into you, sharp and unyielding, you had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t Damian, your friend. No. You were staring into the eyes of the ‘Prince of Gotham,’. The one who could get away with whatever he wanted and no one would bat an eye.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Witch each thrust of his fingers, you grew less and less able to focus. "Damian," you wimpered.

"Hmm?" His low voice hummed behind your ear, making your skin vibrate.

You were sitting on his lap in his couch, thighs spread out, skirt still on. But the top buttons of your blouse were undone showing off the purple marks Damian has spent the last hour decorating on your neck and collarbone. Your hands were held together by one of his ties, an impossible knot you couldn't loosen regardless of how much you tried. You knew your hair was disheveled and worried about how you would go home looking a mess. Your roommate would certainly have questions.

"That! Ah -" You panted, shutting your eyes. "I thought we weren't in a relationship."

"We're not." He said confidently. He refused to elaborate further before kissing you behind your ear - a spot he'd discovered a while back to be extremely sensitive, which he often used against you.

Your shoulders tensed. Your bra straps slipped down your arms as your head rolled back to rest against his muscular frame, easily getting lost in the sensation for what had to be your twelfth consecutive orgasm. You lost count somewhere between nine and ten.

You warred with your mind to stay on topic. "Then... why can't I go out with Nick?"

The moment you walked into his apartment, Damian asked if you and Nick were a couple, then at your hesitation, he nodded and ordered you not to go out with him.

His fingers sped up against you, and the impending orgasm built up as you felt the rising heat in the pit of your stomach.

"Damian, answer the question," You gasped, straining against him.

"Because you can do better." He said in a simple tone, though you'd hinted what sounded like a growl accompanying his words. He bit down on your neck, hard, before sucking on the skin he'd just broken there. His fingers made rougher movements on your overstimulated slit, giving you sensation that was equally painful and delicious. You'd mumbled a sentence of incoherent "please" and "God," as your brow forrowed, sweat gathering on your exposed collarbone.

The only goal his response achieved, however, was angering you. Who did he think he was? Deciding what men were and weren't worth your time. You were your own person. You huffed, a mixture of frustration and something else. "I think I'm smart enough to decide that for myself!"

Your sentence was cut off with a squeal. He had found a new spot that made your back arch as he chuckled against your ear. "Im not saying you're not, baby. Im just giving you my impression of things."

You bit your lip, half to keep from moaning and half to keep from lashing out at him. Whether he thought so or not, words carried meaning, and the tone with which he called you 'baby' would definitely resonate in your mind. This wasn't good for your purely platonic friends-with-benefits arrangement. "You can't call me that. Baby. Im not... your baby."

Dropping your pen and notebook, your bound hands grasped at your thighs as you pushed your pussy into his fingers, chasing that delicious feeling. You panted until you came.

His fingers didn't stop, though. You began to weakly shake your head. "No, no, no, Damian, you said it was the last one -"

"Just one more baby," he emphasized the last word. "You can take it. I know you can. You're so cute when you're like this,"

Your bound hands scratched at your skirt, and you bit your lip. His words, his actions, his whole being was a question you couldn't answer; a problem you couldn't solve.

His fingers had your mind drifting, and you suspected that he knew that if he just kept saying and doing the right things, he could control you. This thought was what drove you into another shaking orgasm

"My pretty girl," he hummed the praise against you. "Mine."

"N-no," your voice managed weakly as the tremmors subsided and your eyes slid shut. "Not yours."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"Damian, I don't think this... our arrangement works." You spoke softly, then added, "For me. Anymore."

He blinked down at you, facial expression unchanging as he watched you collect the last of your belongings. "Mhmm."

"I guess I'm not cut out for 'no-strings-attatched'". You added. What you didn't add was the fact that you had caught feelings for him, but he was smart, and it wouldn't take rocket science to figure that one out. "And I can't hear you call me yours without... without thinking something more..."

"Are you gonna go out with him?"

The "him" in question was Nikolas, and yes, you were. You justified the decision to yourself by considering that it wouldn't hurt either Damian who didn't see you as more than a fuck buddy, and it wouldn't hurt you, who was actually curious to see if a relationship with Nikolas could go somewhere.

You nodded, making sure to keep eye contact. Whatever judgment that intense green gaze sent your way was not deserved.

At last, Damian nodded. "I'll see you around then."

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it, as he was already walking away. "See you."

That night, Nickolas dropped you off after a wonderful first date back in your room and kissed you goodnight. You lay in bed and closed your eyes, picturing muscular, scar-covered arms easily handling you, calloused fingers caressing, holding, and teasing you, and a pair of moss colored eyes piercing into you as sleep took you over.

[moonydustx]

How Does Work? (or at least, we try?)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 ( you're here) - Part 4

warnings: finally the real deal!!!! smut. Friends with benefits (but they both want more than the benefits, they just don't realize it yet), oral (f! and m!receiving), kinda orgasm denial, at some point they don't use condom. If I missed any warning, let me know

MDNI | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

How could a few minutes sink so deeply into a mind that was far from empty?

How could sounds he rarely heard be present when Law closed his eyes?

The night that had happened - or at least almost - had become a martyrdom for the captain of the Heart Pirates. Your shy smile every time they passed each other in a hallway did nothing less to rid him of such thoughts.

He wanted to be able to think about other things, he wanted to at least listen to the sane side of him that insisted on reminding him that he could be speeding things up too much. But damn, it was too difficult to hear that side when your presence was still present in his dreams.

You wish you could say that you are in a different situation, that your roles, that your friends, that even the choppy waves of the sea against Polar Tang were enough to shake Law's presence from your mind. What didn't help much was that he was your captain.

Awkward shoulder touches, hands that insisted on sometimes intertwining under a table, hot kisses exchanged in an empty corridor. Despite the uncertainties that plagued both your mind and his, it was difficult to keep your distance.

The big problem was: it had been almost two weeks and that was all the two of you had.

"Hey, are you still with us?" Penguin shook his hand a few times in front of you, realizing that you were rambling inside your own mind. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." you tried to shake the thoughts away with a brief smile. "What do you need?"

"Today is your day to get the grouch out of there. Seriously, the captain's watch is yours"

Ah, captain's watch.

You and your crewmates knew about Law's bad habit of occasionally focusing on the job and forgetting about everything around him - socializing, eating, drinking water, anything that took his focus away. That's why you created the captain's watch, when he showed signs that he was going to disappear, one by one you would try to pull Law out of the dome in which he was placed. In today's case, you were docked on a small island, which barely interfered with the log pose. It would just be a night to breathe before continuing on the journey.

Already ready to leave, like the others, you decided to gather up the courage you had and go to Law. Two knocks on the door - almost softened by the sweat that accumulated on your hands - and a low murmur asking you to come in.

"Hey captain." your voice practically lifted him from the papers he was analyzing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Don't apologize for that." trying to avoid boosting your ego, you could notice that Law seemed more relaxed as soon as he looked at you. "How can I help you?"

"I came to try and pull you out of this little dome, captain."

"This color really suits you." Law moved the chair away, creating a gap that allowed him to look at you from top to bottom.

"That's not what I said."

"But it's the truth, you really suited this dress." he insisted, knowing that your cheeks were probably burning with shyness.

"Is this your way of saying I look pretty?"automatically, your feet seemed to guide you in the direction where he was.

"What are your plans for today?" like a predator watching its prey, Law analyzed every step you took towards him. However, your walk stopped at the time of his month, where you leaned back, face to face with the man.

"We'll go out to dinner, enjoy the little time we have free on the island. I just came here to ask you if you want to accompany us?"

"Does that mean everyone is going to leave, including you?" it was hard to contain the laughter when you saw Law practically pouting.

"It's dinner, captain."

"I can take you to dinner." he sounded almost offended, standing up and stopping in front of you. One of his hands slid down your arm, moving up slightly. "And then, after dinner…"

"Stop being a pervert!" facetiously, you complained. However, instead of moving away, both of his hands attached themselves to your waist.

"You come here, all pretty, in a nice short dress and tell me you're going to leave me here alone? I have the right to be a little perverted." his torso, which was still a few millimeters away from yours, stuck to your skin. His fresh breath millimeters from yours. "What did you do to me?"

"What do you mean captain?" the name came out in a provocative tone from your lips.

Law thought about saying that during the last two weeks you had been his frequent thought. About him thinking about what moments would be opportune for him to steal some of your attention. But that might sound strange. Sounding in a way that was still difficult for even him to understand.

Instead, he decided to capture your lips with his, the taste of the sweet cherry gloss making him even more intoxicated than your presence was capable of.

He could have thought of having you there, on his desk and using the little time they had until someone suspected your disappearance. He could let one of his hands sneak where he wanted and capture some of your nectar to remind him how good it felt. But no. Your lips were enough to leave him lost.

"Law…" you pulled away enough for the air to return to your lungs.

"You still have time to give up on that dinner." he asked and saw you laugh lightly, denying his request. "It's okay. Go, enjoy the night." He stole some more from your lips and freed himself from your arms, watching you head towards the door.

"Maybe I'll make time to come back early." you warned before leaving and laughed when you saw him cross his fingers.

As soon as the door closed, you needed to catch your breath until you returned to your friends.

As soon as the door closed, Law collapsed into the chair again. The warm body and a not so familiar sensation. Was what he was doing right? Was what he was feeling right?

The night seemed pleasant, a lot of chatter wasted, bottles of drinks were piling up. But even so, your mind wandered to a certain submarine in the nearest port and you knew you wouldn't stay there for long at that dinner. And of course, drinking and talking resulted in some topic that would make you embarrassed, it was no surprise that the topic came back your way.

"I have a point to state." Ikkaku began, throwing one of her arms over your shoulders. "Someone here has been very happy, very mysterious. Even your skin is the best my dear friend. Tell us, what have you been doing?"

"You ask as if your distrust wasn't sex." you replied, cynically throwing her arm away.

"So… What are you waiting to tell us?" Shachi leaned on his hands, feigning heightened interest. "Finally someone took good care of you know what."

"Perhaps." there was no point in lying, you were terrible at it. In this case, you would try to control the damage and omit what was possible.

"The question is: your own fingers or someone else's fingers?"

If you were still drinking something, you would have choked for sure. Your memories dragging you directly to the first contact you and Law had.

"This is confidential." you replied to Penguin, who groaned.

"Don't be boring! It's rare to have new gossip, I want to know the details." Ikkaku pointed out, seeing you roll your eyes. "Was it someone we know? Someone from here?"

"No!" You immediately denied it. "N-no. It was on the last island we visited. It was a date at a bar and that was it, nothing more to explain." not that there were many lies left in your stock.

"What's his name?"

"La- Laos!" you stuttered. "He's been taking the same route as us, so we'll meet up today." you lied, already anticipating an excuse you intended to use.

"Laos, interesting name." Ikkaku commented and you could see the malice in her words. "And today, are you going to have another nighttime adventure too?"

"I don't know, it's up to him." you shrugged, wanting the topic to drop.

"Hey, I know you're not a saint or a spotless virgin." Ikkaku spoke in a more serious tone, ignoring the jokes the others made. "But some guys might want you just for you know what. And you're too pretty and cool to subject yourself to that."

"Serious?"

"Some men have sex just to prove a point: that they can do it, that it has to be their way, anyway. But if it's something you want too, I don't see a problem."

The topic slowly died down and in the first gap you found, you slipped out and hoped that none of them had thought of following you.

Some guys might want you just for you know what. Even with the joking tone, Ikkaku's words stuck in your mind. Well, you and Law hadn't had a complete relationship, but was that what he wanted? And wasn't that what you wanted too?

Immersed in your thoughts, the path to Polar Tang was faster than you expected. As you suspected, the submarine was practically empty. Those who hadn't left were too busy with their tasks.

Two knocks on the door were enough to find who you were waiting for.

Law didn't consider himself anxious, in the essence of the word. He did not consider himself one of those who suffer tortuously waiting for something. Except, today he was anxious.

After he finally managed to leave the small office he was in and head towards his bedroom, he had already tidied up the small place countless times, making the bed tidy, everything he could he did. He didn't expect two knocks on the door to make his heart race so quickly.

"Hey! Someone kept their promise." he gave you space to enter.

"I wouldn't be crazy enough to disobey my captain." You said in a teasing tone. "What good did you do?"

"To be honest nothing."

The hands in his pockets indicated that Law was more nervous than he appeared. Knowing that he seemed to be just like you gave you a boost of courage.

Before he could even come up with a topic to try and talk about, you approached him and kissed him quickly, surprising him.

"I'm sorry." you pulled away, seeing him take his hands out of his pockets slowly. "It's been two weeks and all I can think about is us, that night."

This time, Law took the lead. His previously shy hands pulled your body against his while his lips stole yours.

The taste of cherry in your mouth was a distant memory, but feeling your lips against his was still an intoxicating sensation. One of his hands felt around and found the key, locking the door.

In not so sure steps, you could feel the padding of the bed against your thighs and taking strength - or in the correct way, catching Law off guard - you turned him in order to guide him until he was the one sitting on the bed and you were standing.

Wanting to understand your intentions, Law leaned on his elbows and had to restrain himself from exposing how much he was entertained by your body in front of him.

Sliding the straps of the dress, the piece gathered at your feet and allowed Law to see only your almost naked body in front of him, except for the cloth of the same tone as the dress that covered your intimacy, almost like a planned act.

Using the same splashes of confidence, you bent down just enough to kiss him lightly and leaving his head hanging, waiting for another kiss. Your fingers, cold from nervousness, began to lift his shirt, throwing it away.

"It looks like someone is eager to do all the work." Law pointed out. Seeing your hands retract, Law took one of them and slid it down his chest, then his abdomen, to the waistband of the pants. "You can do whatever you want, really. Don't think too much."

"Can I kiss you… there." your eyes pointed to the waistband of his pants and Law swore he could die with just that question.

"Only if you want." he pointed out, seeing you kneel in front of him and reach for the buttons on his pants, untying them. Following his own order not to think too much, you let your fingers invade the underwear he was wearing, stroking his cock gently. the word came out as an exasperated whisper from Law's lips. "Fuck."

You pulled his cock out, small thrusts around your hand being made under Law's watchful eye didn't help one bit in your search for courage.

Your lips found his sensitive area, placing an almost chaste kiss and then gave way for your tongue to explore that place. As you explored every inch of him you could reach, you could hear some grunts above you and every time you looked in his direction, it somehow became clear that they were coming from his lips. You opened your mouth and swallowed half the length of his cock, enough for his tattooed fingers to get caught in your hair and begin to dictate a slow rhythm. There was still a bit of sanity in Trafalgar D. Law and at the moment, he was using all of it not to rush things.

"That fucking mouth, so good, so fucking good." he grunted once again, his head lolling back, trying to avoid the almost innocent looks you were giving him. "I can't wait anymore."

The last muttered words were the only thing you heard before you felt your body leave the ground. In a movement that you barely had time to understand how it was done, you found yourself in Law's arms being placed on the bed, while he fit between your legs and explored every inch of your lap with wet kisses.

"You're too good for your own good." he murmured, taking your lips in a wild kiss. "Makes me not want to let you leave here, ever."

His tongue invading every inch of your mouth and the heat making you look for friction against his pelvis and Law didn't hesitate in pressing his intimacy against yours. Fighting his own desire to sink into you, his wet kisses traced a path you were eager to see.

"You don't intend to stop me today?" Law commented cynically, his lips hovering over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.

"I don't think so, it's a good view from here." You tried to play his game and saw him press his lips exactly where you needed it most. "Law!"

"huh?" This time, he started licking over the fabric, wanting to tear your sanity away there. "Do you need something?"

"Please, can you do that again? Just a little, please." you whimpered and saw an almost sadistic smile on his lips.

"Oh I'm definitely still going to make you beg one of these days." his hands went up to the side of your panties. "But for today…"

You feel that same sensation from that day, your pussy burning for more, your legs shaking, your hips involuntarily throwing themselves against his face, until Law stops, immediately returning on top of you.

"Don't pout."

"But…"

"Today you will learn a new lesson about orgasms." Law pointed out, stretching to reach a condom that he had casually left next to the bed.

"What lesson?"

"Don't be hasty." he fit between your legs. "Can I?"

"Yes of course."

As soon as Law started to fit his cock inside you, God, it was the same feeling as two weeks ago. It was once again a little piece of paradise exclusive to him. The sly moan that left your lips didn't do much to help him hold back.

He began to move slowly, feeling every piece inside your pussy accommodate him as if he had made it there. Your hands got tangled in his dark strands and the hat with black polka dots was forgotten, lying on the floor.

He could see how hard you were fighting to not let a louder noise escape your lips and even though he knew the risks, he would thrust harder now and then just to hear the adorable noises that came from you, encouraging him to go even harder, faster. He wanted to have enough concentration to use his power and prevent any sound from coming out, but it was impossible with the way you were tied to him. So strong, so good.

"Pretty thing, I can feel you squeezing me." He sank into your neck, placing a few kisses that would definitely leave a mark on your skin, but he couldn't think about it. Law was leaning over your body, without leaving you, kneeling between your legs. "I bet you want to cum for me, hm?"

"Law!" your legs tightened around his torso. "J-Jst give it to me, p-please. I'm almost there."

Ignoring all your requests - and almost ignoring what his body wanted - Law came out of you, opening your legs and watching your intimacy pulsate with desire. Damn, that would be a difficult lesson to apply.

"Why did you stop?" you sounded indignant, your voice rising a few octaves and your eyes involuntarily filling with tears. "W-Why?"

"Hey, shhh, calm down." he asked with a smile on his lips. As if you were made of paper, he turned you onto your stomach, gently pulling your hips, leaving you on all fours for him. Your frustration was soon replaced by a choked moan leaving your lips as you felt his fingers explore your intimacy, tracing circles on your bud. “I promise to give you what you want, okay?

"But Law! I was almost there."

"I promise you won't regret it." he felt you buck your hips against his hand, searching for even more friction. "Is that good?" he heard you nod in a grunt. The nimble fingers were replaced by his cock, which slid to your entrance. "Can I continue?"

"Please."

Again, with an excess of patience that you had no idea what he was getting from, Law let inch by inch enter you. The moans surpassed any protection your hands could provide, much to Law's delight.

Law could see you writhing to take all of him inside you at the same time your hips thrust against his asking for more and more.

"I promised not to disappoint you today, didn't I?" One of his hands pulled you so that your back was pressed against his abdomen. "How do you feel?"

"So good, so fucking good. please - I... " a growl from your own lips interrupted you. "P-promise you won't stop now Law."

"And that's the lesson of the day." the hand that supported you by your torso went up and lightly attached itself to your neck, upon hearing you moan, Law controlled himself not to squeeze even harder, that wasn't his goal today. "Did you know that orgasms can be even more intense?" he began, breathlessly. "The more - oh fuck." he stopped when he felt you rocking against him, seeking even more friction. "I won't be able to give you the full lesson today. But in short, the longer you wait, the better it gets."

"I-I can't wait any longer Law!"

"I've got you baby, I've got you." his lips attached themselves to your neck, placing kisses on your sweaty skin. "You can cum when I tell you to, okay? Only when I tell you to."

"But…"

"Shh, I know you're almost there. Just a little more." he can see your face focusing, the mark of your teeth on your lip, trying to control the noises.

Feeling his own peak approaching, Law took one of his hands to your clit, making quick movements, which increased according to the speed of his thrusts.

"That's it, now just give it to me. Come on, pretty thing, cum for me."

Hearing your noises increase, Law took your lips to him in an almost uncomfortable position, but it didn't matter, What mattered was feeling you tremble under his touches, drenching you like he hadn't felt before and just like you, he allowed himself reach the apex.

Gently, Law let your body leave his embrace and lie face down on the bed. Your skin was covered in goosebumps and he could see small tremors in your leg. Better than that, he saw a shy smile and an ecstatic look on you.

"Was it a bad lesson?" he asked, laying down next to you and watching you deny it. "Everything is fine?" you again just nodded with the movement of your head. "Really?"

"It was just a little too much, almost too much to handle. I thought I was going to explode." You said, between sighs. Something told you to come closer and snuggle up to him, but at the same time, you didn't know if that was what you should do. That's what boyfriends did, wasn't it?

"Almost too much? Soon we'll have to decide on a safeword." he pointed out, making you laugh slightly. "Do you know what it is?"

"I don't know about orgasms, I already read that somewhere." you scored. "What do you think of a bear?"

"Bear?" he looked incredulous. "Do you really want me to think about bears during sex?"

"We're talking about a safeword."

"It makes sense." He also turned onto his stomach, facing you. And so, the two of you stayed for a few long minutes.

"I can hear your brain working from here." Law adjusted himself to the side, so that he could face you completely. "Seriously, it's a little rusty, but I can still hear it."

"You're not that good."

"Yeah, definitely rusty, after all, that's not what you were talking about just now." Law smiled when he saw you roll your eyes, just watching you he knew that your cheeks must be burning with shyness. "Seriously, what's going on in here?"

"Nothing to worry about, Captain." you pointed out, turning around and sitting down feeling his gaze burning in your direction. "I think I should leave."

"No, nothing like that." he gently pulled your arm, forcing you to lie down again. As a method of keeping you there tied to his bed, Law got close enough to leave his body practically on top of yours. "You're going to lie here while I get you some water and something so I can clean you up."

"Clean me up? You, clean me up?"

"What strikes you as strange about that?" He moved far enough away, getting up only to rip off the condom, throw it in the trash and put on the underwear that had been thrown somewhere that you didn't care about worrying about at that moment.

"I should go clean up myself, as well as go get my water."

The way the words came out of your lips with a certain conviction bothered Law a little. Not that he was bothered by your self-sufficiency, in fact it was one of the points he most admired. What bothered him was the fact that you didn't even consider being taken care of after all the things you both did, at least in the way he expected to be able to take care of you.

"You stay here" He simply responded, returning to the bed and bending down enough to leave a quick kiss on your forehead and ask with his face just a few millimeters away. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you." nothing more than a whisper came out.

Before Law could get far enough away, the words fell like a waterfall from your lips, curiosity and the conversation you had earlier with Ikkaku seemed to occupy every space in your mind.

"Law?"

"Hm?" he muttered, as he hunted for where he had thrown his own pants.

"You… How can I ask?" Your genuine doubt caught his attention, and he immediately stopped to observe you. "What do we do… I mean, you didn't start this just to prove a point, did you?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, this all started after that conversation about me never having a orgasm and well, now I think we did everything we could do…" you sat down holding your legs against your body. "To put it in simpler words, you wanted me just for you know what."

"I knew that brain of yours was working too hard." he laughed lightly. Ignoring the idea of ​​leaving you alone with your own thoughts, he decided to postpone going to the kitchen. "What kind of idea is that?"

"I don't know." You shrugged, watching him sit in front of you on the bed, it was difficult to face him back in that situation. "I heard someone talk about it, about wanting someone just for that, just to prove the point and then this idea stuck in my mind."

"To answer your question, no, I'm not with you just for that, but to be honest, I don't know how to answer anything beyond that." Law tried to be as honest as possible, after all it was nothing but fair since you had said that to him. "The last few days I've been trying to understand some things, some feelings and while I understand all of this…" he approached, taking your face in his hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes. "While I try to understand all these feelings and I believe that you also have to understand something, I need you to know that I don't want you just for sex, you will never be just that, okay?

"Okay." your voice came out like a precious whisper to him. "Can you kiss me?"

He even thought about saying that he already planned to do it, but gestures said even more than words. Law took your lips and little by little he lay almost completely on top of you.

Feeling you searching for more contact, Law let one of his hands caress your thigh, asking permission to give you even more attention. Feeling you give up space, his hands soon found your intimacy. His slow touches began to elicit small moans from you.

"Look, all you want is sex." he joked, seeing you frown he reached up and kissed the tip of your nose. "Want some more my pretty thing?"

"Just a little, please."

"Whatever you want."

Fitting between your legs, he slowly slid into you and so followed his thrusts. Even with scratches being distributed across Law's white, tattooed skin, he continued at the same speed. His name was starting to become a delicious mantra to hear coming from your lips.

"I'm here, I'm here. Do you want to give it to me again?" He intensified his ministrations a little when he felt you once again on the edge of the abyss. He didn't expect to feel the wetness gush towards him as your nails dug into his skin. "Oh fuck, that's a good girl. My good girl. Can you give me one more of those? Please, just one more."

A few more thrusts were enough for you to reach your pleasure again and Law felt your sweet nectar running through him. Forgetting about the lack of a condom, Law allowed himself to cum inside, to feel his hot seed spread throughout you. Luckily, he was a doctor and would know how to deal with some kind of later contraception. He just couldn't miss the chance.

"It's okay." Law responded to your growl as soon as he came out of you. "Can I postpone going to the kitchen and cleaning up that I promised?"

"Yes." you replied sleepily. Unlike the first time, as soon as you finished, Law immediately pulled you into his arms. "I-I need to go."

"No, you don't need to."

"Don't?"

"No." Law insisted, pressing you into his arms. "Let me take care of you tonight, okay"?

"Yes captain." your voice was almost disappearing in your sleep.

Law slowly saw you close your eyes and sleep and he knew it wouldn't take long for him to do the same. The only thought that gnawed at him was that he didn't want it to be just tonight.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈••┈••✦ ❤ ✦•

taglist: @metonimia-de-bellota, @deathsmajestysworld, @augustanna, @kitsunechan707, @thepinktiredfreak, @yve-barr

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Can you do a kylian mbappe fic, where the reader falls asleep on him and his friends are finding that moment very cute ??

Sleepy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You fall asleep on Kylian's after a long day at work.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.0k

Warnings! FLUFF, sleepy reader, Kylian's friends treating you like a sister, domestic vibes,

You were exhausted.

Absolutely wrecked.

You had just finished what seemed to be the longest shift of your life. Kids screaming at the back, customers asking for stupid shit, your manager breathing down your neck. You could barely walk, your feet were killing you so much.

All you wanted was to go home, crawl into bed, and snuggle up next to your boyfriend.

"I'm off!" You called to your coworker Aisha, as you slipped your sneakers on and grabbed your bag. The cool evening air hit your face as you stepped out of the building, a small relief after the stuffy air you'd been breathing in all day.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, feeling the weight of the day start to lift, if only slightly, with each step you took away from work.

You love your job. Truly you do.

But the long hours and the stress were starting to take its toll. You knew that you would need a break. Heck, part of you wanted to quit. But you also loved the kids who came in every day. You loved the regulars. The pay. The benefits. It was hard to say goodbye to all of that, even if you did want to.

But you didn't have time to think about that right now. You had your mind on other things.

Like your boyfriend. And his warm bed.

You could almost smell the familiar scent of his cologne and the fabric softener he used on his sheets as you walked to your car. Your car, which was still parked on the side of the road, thankfully not towed, despite the parking permit having expired 2 hours ago.

You breathed a small sigh of relief as you pulled open the door and slumped into your seat. The leather was soft under your legs, which you were extremely grateful for after the day you'd had.

Your stomach rumbled softly, reminding you that you hadn't eaten in several hours. You mentally checked your fridge, trying to remember if there was anything edible in there. You vaguely recalled seeing a bowl of macaroni courtesy of Fayza who had visited three days ago.

You put the car into drive and started the drive home.

You were so ready to be in bed. So ready to be back with your boyfriend. You pulled into the driveway, and stepped out of your car, slamming the door closed behind you. You locked it, and started towards the house.

The living room lights were still on, and the window was open just enough to hear a few muffled voices. Your heart skipped a beat.

You didn't realize he had company.

You let yourself in, and looked around the living room. Kylian was sitting on the couch with Hakimi and Ousmane. They all had beers in hand and were watching a football game on the TV. Fuck. Why were they here?

Kylian caught sight of you and smiled, standing up to greet you. "Hey bébé! How was your day?" He asked, kissing your cheek. You shrugged, shoulders slumping as you felt tears gather in your waterline. The day was finally getting to you.

"It sucked," You muttered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

Kylian frowned at the sight of your tears, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "What happened?" He asked softly after walking you over to the kitchen as the boys were still distracted by the game. He could tell something was wrong. You're not the type to cry. About anything. It worried him.

He led you to a barstool and gently nudged you to sit down, then opened the fridge and handed you a bottle of water. You took it gratefully, the coolness soothing against your palm as you fumbled with the cap.

"Just… everything," you sighed, taking a sip and feeling the tears threaten to spill over. "The kids were crazy, the customers were worse, and Aisha… she had her own problems, so I had to pick up the slack."

Kylian's brows knitted together in concern, his gaze unwavering as he listened. "You should've called me," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "I could've come by, brought you something to eat, at least."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "You had practice, and then… this," you gestured toward the living room where his friends were still engrossed in the game. "I didn't want to bother you."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. "You could never bother me. You're the most important thing to me, you know that, right?"

A warmth spread through your chest, and you nodded, feeling some of the day's weight lift off your shoulders. Kylian always had a way of making you feel seen, even when you were at your lowest.

"I know," you whispered, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the closeness. "I just… I need a break, Ky. I can't keep doing this every day."

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "Then take one. We'll figure it out. We can go away for a few days, or even just spend a weekend doing nothing but relaxing. Whatever you need, bébé."

You managed a small smile, feeling the exhaustion start to ebb away. "That sounds nice," you admitted. "I just want to be with you. Away from all the noise and stress."

Kylian's grin was infectious, and he kissed you gently, his lips lingering on yours. "We'll make it happen. I promise."

Just then, Hakimi's voice called from the living room, breaking the moment. "Hey, Kylian! Are we ordering food or what?"

Kylian sighed and looked back at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You okay if they stay for a bit? We can kick them out if you want."

You chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "No, it's fine. I'll just join you guys. If that's okay, I don't want to interrupt."

Kylian's eyes softened at the shyness in your tone. "Of course, it's okay. You know the guys love having you around."

You felt a pang of warmth in your chest at his words. Even though you wanted him to yourself, you didn't mind the boys. You knew that if you asked him to he would send the boys away without hesitation.

But it was already so late, you knew he must have wanted to spend the evening with his friends. Besides they were funny and you could use a laugh or two. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing yourself to relax a little more.

"Alright," you said, your voice steadier. "Just let me change into something more comfortable first."

Kylian nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before you headed to the bedroom. He watched you go, brows furrowed in worry. You seemed really tired. And that worried him.

He knew that the job was taking a lot out of you. You were working almost every day. He was proud of you, and knew you could do it, but he was also concerned. You had told him the other day about how stressed you'd been feeling. But he knew you wouldn't want to quit.

You slip out of your work clothes and into a pair of soft, worn pajamas. Rolling your tired shoulders, you could hear the low hum of the TV and the occasional burst of laughter from the living room. Letting out a deep sigh you glanced at yourself in the mirror, noticing the faint shadows under your eyes and the slight droop of your shoulders.

When you returned to the living room, you were greeted with cheers and a playful whistle from Hakimi. "Looking cozy!" he teased, raising his beer in salute.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Thanks. You guys ordering food or just watching the game?"

"We're definitely ordering," Ousmane piped up, his eyes glued to the screen. "Any preferences?"

"Pizza sounds good," you suggested, earning a chorus of agreement from the guys.

Kylian handed you a beer, and you settled onto the couch next to him, feeling his arm drape comfortably around your shoulders. "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur against your ear.

You nodded, leaning into him. "Yeah. This is nice," you admitted, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, grounding you. The tension in your body slowly melted away as you nestled against Kylian.

You listened to the boys chat and laugh, and you felt a small smile cross your face. You were so happy to hear him laughing with his friends. You loved the way he smiled when they made him laugh. Kylian caught your eye and smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The game was getting intense, and you could tell the boys were all invested in it. You rested your head on Kylian's shoulder, and felt yourself start to drift off. The sound of their cheers and chatter faded into a mumble as your eyelids got heavier and heavier.

You fell asleep, lulled by the sounds of the game and Kylian's gentle stroking of your back.

"Look" Hakimi whispered to Ousmane, gesturing to you. You were fast asleep, snoring softly sprawled across Kylian's lap, his arms wrapped loosely around you. The sight was absolutely adorable. Your mouth was half open and you looked so soft. They cooed at the sight of you.

Kylian looked at you and smiled softly, a look of pure adoration on his face. His gaze was soft as he brushed the hair away from your face. "She had a long day today," he murmured. "She's been working so much lately."

The boys nodded sympathetically, glancing down at you. "She's stubborn, though, refuses to quit." Kylian continued softly, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "I don't know how she manages it all, day in and day out."

Hakimi nodded, his expression mirroring understanding. "She looks so peaceful now." You really did, but then again you always looked like that when you were around Kylia. So did he.

Everyone could see how perfect you were for each other. How you two were meant to be. You were the light of Kylian's world, the center of his universe. You were his everything, his love, his heart, his soul. And he was the same to you.

They looked at the two of you and couldn't help but feel warm inside. "I'm glad she has you to come home to," Ousmane said softly.

Kylian's lips curved in a gentle smile as his eyes lingered on you. "Me too." His voice was filled with emotion, his heart beating fast at the sight of you sleeping peacefully. "Me too."

The boys glanced at each other and smiled. They had known Kylian for so long now, they had seen the way he used to act before you came into his life. He was cold and distant. Lonely. Never being in a relationship for more than a couple of months before he was gone. But he changed after you came along. You brought warmth into his life, love, and joy. You brought colour to his world, and lit up his life.

And they were forever grateful for you. For taking care of their brother. For making him this happy.

Kylian glanced at you again and smiled. He was so happy to have you in his life. He was so glad to have you by his side. He wanted to wake you up, kiss you, tell you that he loved you. But he didn't want to ruin the moment.

The three friends sat in companionable silence for a while, occasionally murmuring comments about the game but mostly watching you sleep. The tension of the day seemed to have melted away from your features, replaced by a serene calmness that tugged at Kylian's heartstrings.

"She's gonna wake up hungry," Hakimi joked quietly, breaking the silence with a grin.

Kylian chuckled softly, adjusting his position to make you more comfortable. "Probably. We should order that pizza soon."

"Yeah, yeah," Ousmane agreed with a nod, but he made no move to get up just yet, clearly content to enjoy the moment a little longer.

-Bianca🌻

[moonstruckme]

i don't know if you'd be willing to do this one cause you have a lot of emt!marauders and a lot of those deal with some kind of head thing but i think it would be funny if their gf has chronic migraine and they're just itching to fix it but they can't and they feel useless. like she already took her pills, she's sleeping it off, and they are like "do you need more water" and "want an ice pack" and "is it too bright in here" cause they need to do something

Thank you for requesting!

cw: migraine

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 399 words

Your skull feels like it’s coming apart at the seams, but you know this is as good as it’s going to get for a while. You’ve had your pain medication, you’ve got your diffuser streaming out a soothing pepperminty scent, and you’ve got Remus, pressed up behind you on the bed with his hand laid flat over your sternum. 

You think you could actually fall asleep like this. In fact, you think you’re nearly there. 

From just in front of your face, the loudest whisper known to man: “Think you ought to have more water, sweetness?” 

“No, thanks,” you mumble. “I’m good.” 

Though you know it’s impossible, you swear you can hear Sirius’ brows scrunching worriedly. He sets a cool hand atop your head, stroking some baby hairs. 

“Why don’t you roll onto your back,” James suggests, tone sweeter than spun sugar. “I’ll get you a cold cloth.” 

This time, it’s Remus who grumbles a response, his grip tightening on you to prevent you from complying. “She’s fine.” 

“Obviously she’s not fine.” Sirius’ whisper goes a tad sharp. 

“She will be if you let her sleep.” 

“Angel,” James coos, “is it too bright in here for you to rest? We could try taping the curtains closed.” 

You relent and open your eyes, about to tell both of your sweet, well-intentioned boyfriends that you’d actually be perfectly able to sleep if the room were only quiet, but Remus beats you to it again. 

“Alright,” he says huffily, voice hushed for your benefit, “the both of you go into the living room and find a film to watch. With captions, no sound. I don’t want to hear from either of you.” 

James looks a tad wounded, but Sirius makes a nasty face at his boyfriend, looking to you for confirmation. You hope your apology and gratitude make their way into your guilty expression as you nod slightly. 

Sirius’ face softens. He leans over, pressing one quick kiss to your forehead before letting James tug him from the room. 

“Thank you,” you sigh once they’re gone. 

Remus chuckles quietly. “You’re welcome, dove.” He gives your sternum one brief, soothing rub before relinquishing you both to stillness again. Your breathing is the only sound in the room. Everything is quiet. You feel the muscles in your face start to relax. 

Then, a gravelly voice by your ear: “Do you want more water, though?”