#just for fun lemme do top ten too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batsplat · 8 months ago

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hiiii <3 i just saw your casey race recs post and i was wondering if you had one with dovi or marc races too! i'm relative new to motogp and i don't know where to start watching!

thankk youuuu, i love your blog, i'm learning so much thanks to you 😭😭 also you're really funny 🫶

right, this one admittedly was trickier than the casey list. marc in particular has accumulated one hell of a body of work... not easy to do justice to. marc's won a lot, but his most enjoyable races aren't the ones where he gaps the field by about two minutes at cota. it's the ones where he's scrapping and brawling his way through and the whole thing is a bit of a mess. and there's a lot of races to choose from in that regard, against a whole host of different rivals

which is very nice for him, but that makes it impossible to do anything comparably comprehensive for marc without getting to a slightly ridiculous length. luckily, that's never stopped me before, and long is what you're getting. you asked about dovi so I'm gonna go with him first, because that's a somewhat easier to tackle body of work - and limit myself to a mere ten twenty five seven eight recs. then I'll get to marc, where I've limited myself to an extremely reasonable thirty three five races, not including any I already covered in the dovi section. if you're looking for something a little more specific, like idk wet weather or feuding or whatnot, lemme know

same warning as before: plenty of race results will be spoiled in the description. in honour of how worryingly long this list is, I've escalated to a three asterisk system: * means 'go check it out', ** means 'personal favourite', *** means 'classic race'

dovi

spoiler free top ten list: welkom 2004, turkey 2007, sepang 2008, silverstone 2010, mugello 2012, mugello 2017, austria 2017, sepang 2017, brno 2018, qatar 2019

*welkom 2004: dovi's first grand prix win. most of this race consists of a three-way battle between locatelli, dovi and casey (who eventually drops away a bit) at the circuit that kicks off dovi's 125cc title-winning season. the second half of this race is more exciting than the first, and you'll never guess how dovi wins a grand prix for the very first time. let's just say he wasn't leading going into the last corner and leave it at that

**turkey 2007: andrea dovizioso once again getting himself involved in a last lap battle? SURELY not. this race is so so much fun, though after the start it settles down for a bit - stick with it, because when it gets going, it really gets going. these kids are vicious with each other! half the joy of watching these old 250cc/125cc (or equivalent) races is hearing the stuff the commentators chat about, basically getting all the good gossip of the time... like say jorge telling the spanish press they shouldn't believe half the things he says about his rivals... or how he'd already been visibly pissed off after qualifying because he was starting from p2 rather than pole... also the kind of podium both me and the commies always massively enjoy, aka one where two people on it basically refuse to acknowledge each other. the vibes between jorge and dovi are NOT good here and it's a lot of fun to watch these children being so pissy with each other

^one of his favourite career victories against his main rival in 250cc, the defending champion jorge lorenzo, who was sporting the number one plate on a superior bike to dovi's honda machinery. more often than not over the course of their time in the sport, these two have not gotten on well at all. it remains one of the sport's defining tragedies that chupa chups did not sponsor jorge throughout his career

qatar 2008: his debut in motogp and a strong race. pleasingly he gets involved in a last lap fight, and does pick off one of the aliens

*sepang 2008: dovi's first premier class podium and an extremely deserving one that really showcased his abilities as a defensive rider, the latest of late brakers etc etc. fought with valentino, then led a train of four/five riders at one point, then was involved in a great late scuffle for third place that lasted until the very end

donington park 2009: first motogp win! has to be said the aliens... uh. none of them delivered their most dignified performances. but ignore those clowns - dovi's of course cemented his reputation as a highly skilled wet weather racer over the years, but this was his first time in the spotlight in the premier class. it would take him seven more years to acquire his next victory

*qatar 2010: a somewhat stronger season than his disappointing 2009 campaign, and the first race was certainly promising. dovi scraps with vale, scraps with nicky hayden, scraps with lorenzo... the racing is pretty decent too. includes the strange sight of seeing the ducati out-powered in a straight line down the lusail straight and I'm sorry but at that point ducati might as well have called it a season, like that was their ONE thing. anyway, dovi still rode well to take advantage of it

*silverstone 2010: once jorge hits the front following some initial resistance from dani, the fight for the win is basically over - but what's going on behind him is good enough to make up for it. bunch of different duels going on in the top seven, whether it's dovi and de puniet, hayden and pedrosa, spies and sic, and eventually casey shows up to join in on the fun too. another one where a bunch of riders are pleasingly close together and there's some real suspense about the final order late on (though the most dramatic action in the last lap is happening right behind dovi - not that you see most of it given the classic tv direction sin of instead giving us a nice prolonged shot of jorge doing a wheelie over the line and his crew celebrating. cheers guys). nice comeback ride for casey-enjoyers too (he wasn't enjoying it)

**sepang 2010: lot going on in this race. three-way fight for the win. valentino is eleventh after a few corners. he does not end the race in eleventh place. this is a good race both for dovi enjoyers and for enjoyers of the... uh. complicated vale/jorge dynamic (this race immediately followed motegi, a notable low point of their relationship). lovely little spite ride, for people who like that kind of thing. love the way it gradually builds up as valentino closes and closes and dovi is just sitting on jorge's rear wheel, and then it just nicely lights up around half distance. me and the commentators are once again having a great time. it is here that jorge seals the title, so it's all post-race smiles with just a hint of posturing

silverstone 2011: casey won this by several light years, but dovi demonstrated his pedigree as a wet racer once again. his race involved intense skirmishes first with jorge and then with sic, and it's fair to say he got the better of both of them

^two excellent wet weather racers and teammates for a single year in a three person repsol honda squad. when dovi was informed he would be let go by the factory team, he decided against accepting a demotion within honda and instead made the jump to yamaha's tech 3 satellite outfit for one year. this was the first time he raced outside of honda in his grand prix racing career. then, in 2013, valentino's return to yamaha made space within ducati. he was always going to have to be vale's replacement rather than his teammate - in 2011 while searching for a ride he said "I would never accept to be teamed up with valentino rossi. it would be pure masochism. there is no room for anybody at his side, he takes it from you and he takes it all. when rossi is ready to share the limelight it will be the end of his racing days". fittingly, dovi was valentino's last ever teammate in motogp

mugello 2011: this feels like one of those classic alien era races where the winner of the race is determined after about a lap. but... it's not! makes for an unexpectedly exciting race and also *ding* last lap overtake

*valencia 2011: this one should have gone on the casey list too, knew I'd missed some. anyhow, on dovi - a lot of dovi's best races during those years came in the wet. but this time he was already engaged in a nice little scrap with dani and ben spies before the rain came. the clash also had real stakes for dovi and dani's final championship positions, a point of personal pride given that dovi had been let go by honda and pedrosa had been retained. a race that accidentally gets exciting again at the end, quite the dramatic finish. this was an emotional podium at the first race after sic's death. dovi and sic had grown up racing each other - and while he stressed that they had never been friends, dovi went to sic's house two days after the crash to see his family and share his grief with them

assen 2012: another one that probably could have gone on my casey list too, actually, with the fight for the win between dani and casey lasting pretty far into the race. behind them, it's dovi putting pressure on spies, lying in wait to make the attack... and, thrilled to say, we do in fact have some last lap overtaking. we don't really get to see how this contest is resolved because the audience needs to see the race winner coast for half a lap, but nevertheless! this one also has extra significance because spies was a factory yamaha rider and dovi was with the satellite team. always a good idea to get your market value up during contract negotiation season

*mugello 2012: would put this on my casey list if I'd included some disaster rides, which this is for him. that bit of the season where he made some high profile errors and controversial passing attempts of his own (and there was an overtake he did apologise for post-race) (this is the last casey mention I promise). anyway, never mind him. this is another one of those alien era races where the winner pretty quickly checks out by a margin of around ninety nine years, and indeed is already waving to the crowd on the last lap. the racing behind him is not too bad though, dovi is involved in a long duel with bradl that hayden eventually joins, and casey isn't the only guy executing controversial passes

assen 2014: ducati was in a pretty sorry state in 2013 and it's still in a pretty sorry state in 2014. another wet race podium, very strong race from dovi where he does manage to stick with marc for a while there. lower down the order, valentino is executing a rather nifty comeback ride after making an erroneous tyre choice

**qatar 2015: a great race and one that nicely sets the tone for what some consider a fairly interesting season. marc goes wide in the first turn and jorge has some kind of visor issues, so we end up with the two ducatis and valentino having it out for the win

^valentino after qatar 2015 about the current era of racing. at the start of the season, it looked like the ducatis would be right in the mix - surely one of the two factory riders would be able to snag a victory sooner or later. it was not to be that year and the results for the rest of the season were largely disappointing, but ducati had clearly made a step forward

sepang 2016: dovi's 2015-16 must have been maddening. three consecutive p2's to start 2015 but drops off from there. rumours at the start of 2016 that jorge's sick of yamaha and speculation is ripe about who in ducati might be sent packing for him. it looks like dovi might well be headed for the door, except iannone did something extremely damaging to his case early that season - dovi was the safe pair of hands, not the guy ducati put their hopes in. they're handing out wins to anyone who rocks up that year and indeed dovi's soon-to-be-former teammate gets ducati's first victory in about a million miserable post-casey years. plenty of talk about who'll win next and marc and vale both point to dovi, but it's just not happening. sepang is the penultimate round of the season and by this point, at least a little order has been restored again - which is when dovi finally gets his win in the wet. still bonkers to think he had two premier class wins pre-2017 both in the wet and then he's runner-up three consecutive years, very gibernau of him. he earned it too, a long scrap in the race with valentino until vale's tyres went kaput

*mugello 2017: dovi begins his transformation into a genuine title threat here. it looked like lorenzo would lead the ducati charge as he had been hired to do at ducati's home circuit in mugello, a circuit he had always been strong at. in the early stages of the race, jorge fought valentino (fresh from his first motocross accident of the season and expected to struggle late in the race) for the lead. dovi had missed warm-up as he was suffering from food poisoning, but, as would happen repeatedly that season, jorge quickly slipped back down the order - and in the end it was dovi who took the fight to the yamahas. a home victory, his first dry win, and all while not at his best physically... no wonder it was one of dovi's favourite career wins

^the moment dovi replaced maverick vinales as marc's biggest threat that season

catalunya 2017: it took dovi seven years to win two races and a week to win his next two. this was the moment when yamaha really started falling apart and confirmed the looming realignment of the competitive landscape. it all came back to the tyres - as it often did in those years, but it was particularly extreme in the sweltering heat. winning a race with your tyre preservation skills on a bike that allows you to preserve those tyres doesn't make for the most thrilling of races, but hey, job well done. his teammate finished fourth, almost ten seconds back after leading on the first lap

***austria 2017: one of the classic marc/dovi duels. the best races between the two of them (unsurprisingly) tended to be at tracks that quite heavily favoured ducati - and austria was already establishing itself as a prime ducati hunting ground. which meant that marc was pretty happy to even find himself that high up in the order and doing damage limitation in terms of the points swing in the championship fight. does that mean he plays it safe while trying to snatch the win from dovi? not even going to bother to answer that question

*motegi 2017: another in the marc/dovi collection and one that reaffirmed dovi's status as a worthy challenger to marc. a dramatic last lap in treacherous conditions that goes down right to the very last corner

**sepang 2017: such an impressive win. the title was on the line... or rather, dovi knew that he basically had to win to even still give himself a chance. he was not helped out one bit by his teammate in this regard, but rode a fantastic race in the wet to eventually force the title decider (left field choice but this dovi win is the one that most impressed me, fully thought the title would be wrapped up here especially after a poor race in phillip island)

valencia 2017: has to go on here as it's the one title decider dovi has gotten himself involved in. marc had a comfortable 21 point margin, which meant that for dovi to win the title marc would've had to finish... uh p12 or lower I believe, and dovi would've had to win the race. straightforward for marc, right? well, title deciders have a tendency to get a bit weird and nervy, just because of the stakes involved... and you can tell from how marc's riding. this race is also really dull until about ten laps to go... thing about valencia is that even when it's looking like an overtake is coming it's basically guaranteed that it won't be. the funniest part of the race is jorge ignoring team orders to a ridiculously blatant extent and ducati attempting to psychically murder him

^dovi always knew the odds were against him going into valencia. this is the moment his title bid ends, ironically just after he'd finally been freed of lorenzo

*qatar 2018: dovi would never come as close to the title again as he did in 2017, but at the start of 2018 at least it looked like he could be a serious challenger once again. this is a great race, another last lap battle... trying not to get repetitive so here, have some of my race notes to change things up:

**brno 2018: for a while, this looks like we're building up for a nice little four-way fray between dovi, vale, marc and jorge (feat. crutchlow). dovi does what he always does when he's leading and goes at the slowest possible pace, and everybody else does what they always did in those years and lies in wait, while occasionally reshuffling the order at the front in the name of whimsy. and then the yamaha does what it always does and somehow burns out its tyres anyway even though they're crawling around the circuit. anyhow, once valentino has done his scheduled backwards slide and jorge has rejoined the fray, it shapes up as a nice little three-way fray between dovi, marc and jorge. appreciating dovi races is all about getting really into the idea of tyre preservation and knowing the last laps will probably be fun. extra little spice because by this point the jorge/dovi dynamic is... not great :)) and we get an appropriately feisty duel between those two in particular

^after his win at the season opener in qatar, dovi had struggled to continue the momentum from the previous season. he went into the race fourth in the standings behind marc, vale and maverick, already 77 points down on marc - and his teammate had recently won back-to-back races. an important win and the rest of his season was a lot stronger. and of course, he had the joy of beating jorge, a relationship that managed to deteriorate even further over the course of that year

*thailand 2018: minus the yamahas providing an early and a late cameo, this one's all about another marc and dovi duel. a lot of stalking and lurking and then marc makes his move with four laps to go. excellent last few laps with overtakes galore, including of course at the very last corner

**qatar 2019: perhaps the archetypal dovi race. runs a very slow pace at the front to just carefully manage the pace, which leads to a nicely bunched up field that keeps sniping at each other. the top three for much of the race of marc, dovi and rinsy switch around plenty of times. there's one moment where dovi just like. ups the pace simply to test if he can drop everyone and then fully drops it by a second the next lap when he can't. pretty funny in how blatant it was. also, don't want to shock you here but we do indeed have another last lap battle. top five at the end covered by .6 seconds

*austria 2019: the first lap is WILD and actually manages to delay the inevitable marc/dovi duel. fabio leads for a bit, and then you are reminded of exactly why he hasn't been able to shut up about top speed for the past few years, like man after a while I'd be traumatised too. another fun duel between marc and dovi, which ends with... that's right. a last lap battle. that was kind of what their rivalry was about by 2019, given there wasn't really a title fight any more (certainly not after jorge played bowling in catalunya) - but the races themselves were thrillers, a welcome remedy when marc's dominance was at its most stifling

austria 2020: just as a heads-up - this race includes a terrifying crash when the bikes of zarco and franky morbidelli almost fly straight into valentino and maverick. nobody was seriously injured but they were inches away from a life-threatening accident; it's by the grace of god stuff. the race was stopped and then restarted, which... bit tough to say whether that helped or hurt dovi. probably helped (though I reckon he was always winning this) - in part two mr tyre whisperer is chasing jack miller on soft tyres. what happens next will shock you. deeply odd race... a lot of 2020 races had a surreal vibe - you just have to kinda experience it for yourself. at one point there's a graphic on screen telling you dovi, zarco and stefan bradl are competing for the win. this is not the case

^once more with feeling: dovi's third win at the redbull ring and only win in 2020, just after he'd announced his decision to leave ducati. between injuries, being unable to make the new rear tyre work for him and the growing alienation from ducati, 2020 was not an easy season for dovi. in the end, he was not the one to take advantage of marc's absence, and his time as a top-level rider ended when him and ducati parted ways

marc

spoiler free top ten list: cota 2013, assen 2015, phillip island 2015, mugello 2016, misano 2017, phillip island 2017, argentina 2018, assen 2018, silverstone 2019, sachsenring 2021

mugello 2010: first grand prix win! once marc has worked his way through the field this develops into a tight four-way scuffle that continues until the very end, with marc winning by .039s

estoril 2010: absolute chaos race and also the penultimate race of the season with a tight and tense championship situation. marc does well to move up the order until the rain comes and the race is paused... and then my man bins it on the sighting lap. anyway who needs more than half a bike to win a race. one hell of a comeback ride with a nicely dramatic ending

phillip island 2011: marc had to start this race from the back of the grid as a result of a one minute time penalty. early in one of the practise sessions that weekend, he had crashed and had been forced to wait in the pits while the bike was repaired, but was then sent out with only a minute to go. he tried to get in a hot lap after the chequered flag was out, and barrelled into the back of another rider who was slowing down after a practise start. the other rider went to the hospital, though was not seriously injured, and marc ended up with only a cut - but both parties were very lucky to escape relatively unscathed and he was heavily criticised for it. he himself did not agree with the penalty, and his team lodged an unsuccessful appeal. this was also a big race in that year's championship fight (that marc eventually could not see out after his crash in sepang), presenting a huge opportunity for title rival bradl to gain a decisive points advantage. a very impressive comeback ride, as well as a good contest for the win

**qatar 2012: love a race that's a mess. the season opener, and also marc's first race back after the horror crash in sepang the previous year that had given him career-threatening diplopia. marc spends a fair portion of the race battling with iannone, one of his main rivals that year, and if I personally had to fight both baby marc and baby iannone I would simply leave. another bloke is so furious at marc he slaps his arm on the cooldown lap, which was in response to a very controversial pass down the straight where marc kinda ran him off track. both were reprimanded by race direction. the finish is ridiculously close. go watch it

^the cooldown lap slap - marc was involved in several controversies that year. at the end of the year, the fim updated its rulebook, widely seen as a response to marquez-related incidents and the controversial handling of them, and introduced the penalty point system. ironically, it was that system that resulted in valentino's back-of-the-grid penalty in valencia 2015. in early 2017, the penalty points were once again scrapped

motegi 2012: another comeback ride - this time, marc stalls at the start. does his thing and eventually has a late scrap with his main title rival pol espargaro for the win. good fun

valencia 2012: 'oh you can't overtake at valencia' 'oh all the races are boring' 'oh could they please kick it off the calendar come on we deserve a better race to end the season' is what only an idiot would say. marc's last moto2 race starts from p33 after being penalised for a practise collision. spectacular comeback rides are a funny calling card to have for the statistically strongest qualifier in motorcycling grand prix history, but reflects how much of a trouble magnet he was - especially in those days. he might not have a great reputation in the premier class, but he did calm down in 2013, relatively speaking. or, well, he certainly did things it was harder to penalise him for

*qatar 2013: marc's first premier class race. jorge basically fucks off at the front from the word go, but it's an exciting battle behind him - that of course eventually involves valentino, who as ever had worked his way through the pack from further down the grid. first race first podium simple as

*cota 2013: this was always going to go on the list given that it's marc's first premier class win. the race itself is fine, not the most exciting entry on this list, but still! obviously worth a watch

**jerez 2013: icl I feel like this race really benefits from watching jerez 2005 first. not only because 2005 is the better race, but because I think you need to picture twelve year old marc marquez watching this race and thinking it was just like. the coolest shit ever. the patriotism left his body that day. I will not talk about the 2005 race here, but to be clear I am with twelve year old marc marquez on this one. anyway, back to 2013: the race is decent, the infamous copycat overtake is great but arguably the parc fermé and podium vibes are even better. not only was he shameless, but he was shameless in a way he knew echoed his hero beat for beat. baby's first premier class controversy

^the infamous finger wag. marc tries to approach him again during the podium celebrations, but seems unbothered when he is rebuffed. jorge made clear throughout that season he thought marc should be penalised, repeatedly bringing up when jorge himself was given a one race ban and how it had taught him a lesson about responsible riding (some of his rivals in 250cc and premier class rookie season might have some thoughts on that). his criticisms continued well into the season, with tensions rising again after marc's overtake on dani in aragon led to dani crashing

**laguna seca 2013: can't leave this out. important to stress moto2/125cc never went there, so it was his first time at just this notoriously tricky track that was known to be incredibly hard to conquer (here is a clip of vale and marc talking about this in the sachsenring presser). I wouldn't say the race itself is all that great once marc does his thing at the corkscrew, but laguna's quite high up there on tracks you can mostly just enjoy watching bikes go around. big moment in the championship fight because it's when marc is racking up the points at the expense of the injured lorenzo/pedrosa

^2008: valentino stops during his victory lap to kiss the corkscrew where he overtook casey // 2013: marc gets his photo taken at the corkscrew a few days before he will overtake valentino there

*silverstone 2013: a jorge/marc contest for the victory with a dramatic ending, one of the best races that year. marc had dislocated his left collarbone in that morning's warm up, so there was added tension in whether he could hold up physically across a race stint - at a time when jorge (and dani) desperately needed to make up points. interesting continuation of the lorenzo/marquez arc that season in that jorge was a little more willing to match marc's aggression, whatever the problems he had with it

valencia 2013: not bad as valencia races go, actually. which is literally only because it's a title decider and the points situation is exciting, but well credit where it's due. proper tussle between the top three - jorge was so aggressive as he attempted to back marc up into the pack that journalists in the presser afterwards were essentially inviting marc to call jorge a hypocrite. obviously has sentimental value as it's where marc's first premier class title was sealed (even if it should have been sealed earlier but hey ho)

*qatar 2014: I found it quite tricky to make a few picks for 2014, because I feel like a lot of the races this year are in the category of 'fun but not all time epics', and it's hard to really choose between a bunch of them in terms of either significance or entertainment value. the first race of a ten race win streak feels as good a place to start as any, and represents the moment when marc really began stamping his authority on the series. in many ways, this race echoed the race of the previous year: jorge leading from the start, valentino charging through the field, marc somewhere in between. except this time jorge crashes and the fight between marc and valentino is for the victory. it lasts until the penultimate lap, and this time it's marc who comes out on top

le mans 2014: marc did try occasionally to keep things interesting. yes he consistently qualified very well, but sometimes he threw in a bad start or an awful first lap for the vibes. in this one, he ran very wide during the first lap (partly helped along by jorge) and ended up back down in tenth. the pace differential is too extreme for good battles but still, some nice overtaking

**catalunya 2014: see above - there's not all that much to separate this from say mugello or silverstone, so the tiebreaker is personal preference. a good, fun scrap that involves all four of marc, vale, jorge and dani at different stages - even if the end result by this point feels almost inevitable. it is here that valentino rather understandably attempts to strangle marc in parc fermé

^still a close contest with seven laps to go. plenty of overtakes, plenty of confusion relating to a yellow flag, and last lap contact

indianapolis 2014: last of the win streak, at a track that was never particularly popular with riders and typically short on good racing. for a while there at the start it looks like this race would deserve to go on the dovi list until valentino just. um. bumps him aside. and lets marc and jorge past both of them. and then lorenzo also bumps dovi aside. sorry dovi, yamaha decided you were not to be involved in this. the next few laps are good fun too, like by this point you can TELL how much both yamaha riders want this. no manners in sight. icl it's mainly the fact that it's closing out the win streak that has made me include it and the first few laps, because once it settles down it... sure does settle down. ignore this list and just pick a win from the 2014 win streak at random - if you enjoy that one, you'd probably enjoy them all

***assen 2015: probably my favourite marquez/rossi battle. really all you can ask from with a race with two protagonists: lasts the whole race, tense, high stakes, two guys who are particularly motivated to beat each other, several overtakes plus a hell of a lot of stalking and studying each other, and last lap controversy. involves cunning, a little bit of ambiguity in the intentions of both parties, some unresolved questions. an appointment with race direction. an awfully tense post-race press conference that the relationship of the protagonists could never quite recover from. the ideal race

***phillip island 2015: one of the best races of all time etc etc, though it may make you feel like somebody is repeatedly stabbing you with the sword of damocles. still, that's entirely to do with what follows, and the race itself is a fantastic four-rider battle with a murdered seagull and a late twist

**sepang 2015: well, obviously! the actual confrontation between marc and valentino is deeply counterproductive in terms of 'guys you're letting lorenzo/pedrosa escape, stop divebombing each other' and well the whole thing is all kinds of tragic. but the racing itself nicely showcased the complete lack of respect between the pair of them and there is something kind of mesmerising about seeing two all time great wheel-to-wheel fighters go at it, no holds barred. plus it's a major part of marc's story. it is what it is

argentina 2016: this probably isn't making a lot of top thirty something lists, but hey, sometimes you just need to watch a kind of stupid race. this race was kind of stupid. it has the dubious honour of being the first in the marc/vale walk of shame 'hey remember when you guys fought here last year' tour, and they do actually get to scrap it out a bit on track again - though that confrontation is defanged from the moment they have to switch bikes. the last corner incident is dumb but also funny. the podium has truly rancid vibes. I had a good time

^nobody else on that podium as much as twitches when marc goes down. blank faces when he jokes about it in the presser. kind of impressive really. same weekend

***mugello 2016: there is a moment when you think this race will end up being an extremely tight contest until the end between the three protagonists of the 2015 fiasco. then something extremely infuriating happens, and it ends up not being that. on the one hand you leave that race feeling a little robbed, on the other hand it did still feature a veryyy dramatic finish between two of the protagonists. excellent race

**catalunya 2016: the first proper post-2015 marc/vale battle, and at valentino's favourite location for enjoyable race-long duels. it's not like... I don't think of that particular category, I'd call it my absolute favourite - but that's a very high bar. no surprise that they both really really wanted to beat each other, and hey interpersonal animosity always adds a fun nice note to the racing

sachsenring 2016: the problem with the sachsenring is that it used to produce banger after banger race until some diminutive bloke called 'marc marquez' fucking ruined it. 2003 2006 2009 2010 2011 are certified classics, as good as it gets really, tight dramatic fights for the victory and podium positions and integral to the narrative arc of their respective seasons. you used to be able to rely on this track to give you a SHOW. but then that twat showed up and... tbh I can't even remember many of his wins there having particularly memorable racing behind him (I did quite like 2018), so maybe it's not only his fault (to be clear it is in large part his fault). anyway the 2016 edition is in that stretch of 2016 where everything just kind of. goes to shit. like they start just letting anyone win. jack miller won in assen that year. anarchy in motogp. it's the michelin tyres, it's the rain, and it's this bit of the season where marc starts running away with the title. this is another very messy race, more rain, and it's one that has convinced me once and for all that marc has actual plot armour at this circuit. there is a moment where you will go 'how does he win this race' and it's the moment where he goes so far off the track he's halfway to austria. watch to find out how he somehow scams another win at the ring. damn him please do it again this year

^come on this is bullshit. if I'm the other guys I'm calling for a ban of the sachsenring until we figure out what the hell is going on. no wonder he was hopeful of winning on the murder honda

**assen 2017: brilliant race. initial four-way tussle between marquez, rossi, zarco and petrucci that includes some early aggression between the usual suspects and then some light rain to further spice things up. right on the very last lap, there are two great scraps going on - one for the win (with a controversial involvement of a backmarker), and the other for the last podium spot against cal crutchlow

**misano 2017: this is a race that very much had the shadow of valentino rossi looming over it, even though he was not in attendance. valentino had gotten himself involved in his second serious motocross crash of the season, both right before italian races, and had this time decided to take himself out of the title hunt rather definitively by breaking his leg. some time after this, marc posts a photo of himself doing motocross - which he has done a lot of over the years, but was interpreted as taunting valentino and got plenty of backlash online. whether this was a contributing factor or not, he received a frosty reception in misano. he crashed during the wet warm up session and was booed by fans as he rode past them on the scooter, prompting him to blow kisses at them. the race occurred at a tense moment during that title fight: marc had suffered a mechanical dnf in the previous race and in doing so had surrendered the championship lead to dovi. he could not afford another dnf at this late stage of the season. which perhaps made it a little surprising just how hard he fought for that win against petrucci in the treacherous wet conditions, the risk he took with his overtake on the very last lap. was it just to get an extra five points and the win, or was it (as the speculation went at the time) about getting revenge on the italian fans? who's to say - but in any case it was one of the defining performances of that year's championship and another example of marc's skill and confidence in the wet

***phillip island 2017: you know the drill - this circuit produces bangers, and this is another all-time great race. marc by this point had a weird and somewhat cursed record at phillip island in the premier class, where he'd a) been disqualified in 2013, b) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2014, c) won in a dramatic last lap in 2015, and d) crashed out of a comfortable lead in 2016. so in his first four years, the only year he'd even finished the race, it set off a deeply unfortunate series of events involving marc and allegations of sabotage made by his childhood hero - which maybe goes to show the universe just wanted that particular relationship to be doomed. anyway, 2017!! apparently marc decided he could only finish at that circuit when it involved a dramatic battle between multiple riders. good on him! the racing is brutal, with plenty of contact between the riders, as perhaps you might expect looking at the list of protagonists: marquez, rossi, zarco, vinales, iannone, crutchlow. high stakes too - a decisive points swing in that year's title fight that could have easily gone disastrously wrong for marc. in 2018, marc once again did not finish the race

^a hard-fought race where all participants are more than happy to get physical. one of several races that season that prompts questions about aggressive riding, though this time all the riders are in agreement. after the handshake, marc gestures to the rubber that now stains valentino's leathers. in a year where team orders were a big topic of debate, valentino finished right in front of his teammate - who had still been in mathematical contention for the championship

**argentina 2018: for lovers of hubris and head loss. the full marc marquez experience. off his rocker the entire weekend. got whacked with a massive penalty at the end of the race that made the whole thing quite literally pointless and deserved every second of said penalty. jorge's long-standing mantra of 'just give him a race ban' became part of the discourse again. ended up p18 to valentino's p19, hand in unlovable hand. but apart from that, it was a really great performance!

^complaints at the time obviously centred around how marc was a repeat offender in the recklessness of his riding, and lacking in respect (see too the ever-lurking parallels drawn with the jerez 2011 apology - which was, it has to be said, issued for a considerably less egregious offence). publicly marc was mostly remorseless, accepting more blame in the aleix incident than the valentino one, and saying in an interview a few days later that he wasn't going to change his approach. it's the worst and the best of him - he had no need to barge aside other riders with the sheer raw pace he was able to access. on the phillip island 2003 comparison, see valentino's words about riding angry here. in 2012, marc was asked about whether there were races where he was determined to win at all cost, and he mentioned some examples from that year before adding, "there have been many times when I had to channel my inner rage to win a race"

***assen 2018: excellent race, as memorable as phillip island 2015 or 2017 if your favourite type of race is multi-rider dogfights. involves seven or eight riders in the lead group for large chunks of the race, with the order of those riders chopping and changing with incredible regularity. some pretty ridiculous saves (at least three riders right at the sharp end of the action where you feel that they really should have hit the deck) and a lot of contact, putting on full display just how aggressive riding had gotten during that time. most riders enjoyed the contest, though this time it was dovi's turn to be a dissenting voice. in any case, there were reportedly 99 passes within the lead group and it is rightly remembered as one of that era's finest gems

*austria 2018: marc vs the ducatis, as was tradition at the red bull ring. marc wanted to get payback for the last time they had been in austria, and determinedly got a good start to try and avoid history repeating itself - but he never quite managed to escape his pursuers. this is one of those races where there's a long stretch of it just... building, where it feels like either marc will make the break for it or there'll be a dramatic finale. which can make it ever so slightly annoying when there isn't a dramatic finale, but I am happy to assure you that this race delivers on that count. gets very good with ten laps to go

^plenty of close battles, but in those years nobody could match marc for week-to-week consistency. the closest by that metric in 2018 was valentino - but typically a few positions further down the order, hindered both by competitive decline and an increasingly horrendous yamaha. as for jorge, he found his form on the desmodici just as the ducati higher-ups lost their patience and kicked him out. he reached some impressive peaks and at last adapted well to the demands of the bike, but his season was eventually marred by injury

***silverstone 2019: quick warning - quite a scary crash on the first lap even by motogp standards. anyway, dramatic last lap battle with alex rins, who I think it's fair to say marc hasn't always had the best of relationships with. while things haven't exactly gone to plan for either rider since then, excluding fabio that was probably the rivalry that I was most excited to see develop post-2019. ah well. the race itself is fantastic though, one of those that just gradually ramps up the tension before the finale. the last two laps are crazyyyyy. top five closest finish in premier class history

^marc and rinsy (not at silverstone but earlier in the season at jerez). some long-standing bad blood here and I'm sure rinsy really would have liked to strangle marc from time to time

**misano 2019: another visit to valentino's home turf in the year time finally caught up with vale. before this race, marc and valentino tussled in qualifying. an odd and deeply unserious incident that had zero actual impact on their already doomed laps, it's notable in part due to how much marc visibly lost his cool over the whole thing. from p5 on the grid he ended up in an enjoyable duel with fabio quartararo for the victory that went down to the very last lap. as the commentators noted, he celebrated more than he has after sealing some of his championships. coming out best in a last lap battle, making sure to keep the edge over fabio, as well as 'winning in enemy territory'? the perfect weekend. as he says in the immediate post-race interview, "honestly speaking, yesterday was the extra motivation, the extra push for the race" and "really nice to win here in italy". you could tell

**thailand 2019: marc attempting to burnish his last lap battle record by breaking children's hearts? sad stuff. cruel and unusual. a lot of fun to watch. it's an understatement to say that fabio's rookie campaign exceeded expectations, and marc quickly identified him as his biggest threat going forwards. this was a match point race for marc and he needed to outscore dovi by two points to seal the title, but he had such an overwhelming lead that he could afford to take more risks than he might have other years - even if the race did follow a massive crash in friday practise that required a hospital check-up. another race that involves a lot of stalking and shadowing and plotting before the action really kicks off (with four laps to go). this race was part of marc's considerable efforts that year to put fabio in his place while he still could. poor fabio

jerez 2020: hurts to include but this list wouldn't really be complete without it. another race that very much encapsulates the full marc marquez experience. truly bonkers pace until it all went horribly wrong

^funniest moment of the race is when valentino does what is surely the closest you can get to a double take on a motorcycle when he sees marc go past. like he sees marc, then clocks who he's seeing and then visibly looks again in a sort of 'HOW is he here'

*sachsenring 2021: thing about marc at the sachsenring is that it undoubtedly got boring in terms of the victory fight for a few years there, but it's also just a fun, tricky track and he's a joy to watch on it. obviously this win is anything but boring, and the margin he pulls on the field never feels as comfortable as it should be. I don't really think I have much to say about this race that hasn't already been said. I cried

^make that eleven in a row at the ring. honorary mentions go to cota and emilia romagna '21, at time of writing his most recent wins. neither are classic races exactly - and indeed, if you're looking for races relevant to the current climate then aragon '21 is a good shout. at emilia romagna (the second race held at the misano circuit that year), pecco crashes out while being pursued by marc, which clinches the title for fabio. it is also the last race on home soil for valentino

**phillip island 2022: one more for good measure. somehow this is his first premier class ride at the circuit where he finished the race but did not win. late on in that year's tense title battle and gives you exactly what you want from a race at phillip island. it's not even a multi-rider dogfight as it is an every-rider dogfight that eventually becomes a multi-rider dogfight at the front of the pack... but if you looked at the run order after about three laps you would NOT be able to guess who the riders involved are, never mind who wins it. absolute chaos. one hell of a contest right until the very end involving one of that year's two primary title contenders - and some other foes old and new. marc's sole podium that year, and his 100th in motogp. second closest top ten in premier class history, not too bad

#race rec tag #batsplat responds #brr brr #andrea dovizioso #motogp #//#ad4 #morale tag #this was very sweet thank u anon #but also took me longer to answer lol and it's an era people here are more familiar with... so lads feel free to add/dissent #this is a complete escalation in length + detail but well. hope this isn't overwhelming #also anon you asked about marc/dovi so that's what i provided but if you are getting into the sport and are looking to watch old races #then i cannot recommend highly enough to also dip your toes in the pre 2007 years. 2004 is where it's all at i'm telling you #you've got banger after banger race you've got momentum shifts you've got narrative tension you've got interpersonal intrigue...#anyways

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swagammemnon · 8 months ago

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Caught in Honey

Chp 1 | Next

Am I feral over these men? Yes. Feral enough to write a fic in the most disgusting PoV? Also yes. Here are the warnings; more to come as I add chapters. Basically, the premise is you and John are together, you used to be with Simon, but you don't know Simon is one of John's subordinates. Filth and fun ensue.

The keys jangle deafeningly in your lock, hurting the ears that had been subject to the endless pitiful howls of a golden retriever who’d been spayed today. That on top of the grimy sensation on your hands from your last three appointments of the day being crusty, old, white dogs with crocodile tear stains. Despite your exhaustion as you tumble through your doorway, you notice your elderly cat is not in his typical post on the keys table by the front door. Notice that something in your renovated penthouse apartment is… off.

Slipping off your shoes, you quietly pull out the flashlight taser your boyfriend had gifted you a mere month after you started dating. When you protested, you live in the suburbs for goodness’ sake, he’d replied in that deliciously gravely accent of his, It’s this or I assign a military escort when I’m away, love. So, you’d taken it, rolling your eyes because you knew you’d never be able to win against him on this particular subject. This was the first time you’ve ever reached for it.

Tiptoeing down the entry hall to your open floor plan kitchen and living space, you frown as you spot steaming pots on your stove, your cat happily sat at his filled food dish, munching away. Unbothered furball.

You nearly scream as huge arms ensnare your waist, bag falling to the floor as you’re lifted from the ground.

But then a rough beard, familiar and ticklish, scratches along the shell of your ear. Your stomach flipping over itself.

“Got you,” comes the familiar growl.

“John!” you nearly squeal, wiggling until he sets you on your feet so you can turn. The moment you do, his lips are on yours, consuming your entire reality. Molten heat pouring from this bear of a man into mouth, invading your veins, melting you into his arms. Your heart immediately skips a beat, galloping faster as you feel the heady crush of his arms around you. Snaking your arms around his neck, you let yourself dissolve, a welcome end to a long, grating day. Between breaths, on swollen lips, you whisper, “You didn’t tell me you were back. I would’ve made you something–”

“None o’ that, love. ‘S my job to take care o’ ya,” he grumbles, chasing your lips for more. More heat, more fire.

Still, the guilt twists in your tummy. Yes, you’ve just finished your fourth of four ten hour shifts this week, but John… he’s in far more danger than you could ever imagine, risking his life on adrenal squeezing, back breaking missions. Only to come home and cook you dinner… feed you cat .

“But–” you murmur, setting the flashlight on your counter so you can fist the soft cotton of his dark t-shirt. He’s freshly showered too, smelling of moss, tonka and sandalwood. The scent slides shackles around your wrists, drawing your arms tightly against his shoulders.

“Hush,” John commands, greedy bear paws sliding beneath your scrub bottoms, slipping them down the round curve of your ass. “Just lemme feel ya.”

You shiver as those huge palms close over the globes of your asscheeks, forcing you to your tiptoes. Grinding your pelvis into his. Where a delicious heat is already building. In the end, there is no winning against John in a contest of chivalry. Dogmatic devotion that had nearly frightened you away in the beginning. He’d shocked you early with that, staunchly refusing to let you open a single door, showering you with affection both verbal and physical, keeping you tucked beneath his shoulder on the inside of the sidewalk. Small things. Innocuous things. Things you’ve never even thought of before as you made your own way in life. Not until John. Not until your ex…

But you shut that thought out immediately. You weren’t together for a reason. And John, sneaky little shit, had made himself a fixture of your life. In the betweens of his deployments. Even during–with bouquets of flowers delivered to your door or your hospital. Your favorite meals delivered much the same. Little texts when he could, pictures and videos that always had your hand sliding between your legs.

“Fuck, swee’art,” he groans against your mouth, walking you against the edge of your counter. “Missed you so much.”

He shoves your scrub bottoms down your legs, nipping at the corner of your mouth as he leans his weight into you. Arching your spine with a large palm splayed along your lower back. John is an extremely tactile man–and you discovered you were too. John always shoved hands beneath clothing, not to initiate anything (sometimes) but just to soak in the skin to skin warmth. You voice absolutely no complaints as his palms eat up your skin, coursing from the joint of your thighs and ass, up under your scrub top to scratch along your ribs, thumbs bullying beneath the wiring of your bra to graze the underside of your breasts.

You release a heavy breath, fingernails digging into his shoulders, bones already trembling as your body begins to remember the outline of him. The weight of his muscles against you. His intoxicating scent writhing in your nose. The scrape of his calloused fingers along your skin.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his hairline as he mouths along your chin, his teeth drawn to your throat like a magnet. Eagerly replacing the marks he’d left on you before this deployment. Staining you anew as his own masterpiece. His groan is rapacious, blasted heat scorching your tender skin. “Let me clean up, first, baby. I’m–”

“Don’t care.” Fuck, his thick as molasses accent might as well be glomming onto your body, trapping in honey as the achiness in your muscles bubbles to the surface. Your silly brain, now hardwired– trained , smarmy bastard–into relaxing, turning off. His teeth are sharp and thrilling as razor blades against your throat, eagerly waiting for you to cut yourself on them. “It’s your Friday, yeah?”

God, how you’ve missed his voice, how his hands cup your waist, your generous hips and drag you where he pleases. Those torturous hands bully under your scrub top, clearing a path for hungry palms and bruising fingers. You’ve missed those handprints too, painted along your body, a reminder of his strength, his passion, his protection. Mindlessly, you nod, your gut knotting as he hoists your ass onto the cool counter without even a shred of effort. If you really tried, if you truly wanted to, you’d never be able to escape him. His job is his body, and he does it so fucking well.

“My sweet girl’s tired, then. Working that pretty brain all week. You deserve a li’l break, don’t you?” he cajoles, luring a wounded, beaten animal into his trap with the sweetest honey. You go all too willingly. Even as your cheeks heat in embarrassment, the admittance to your exhaustion, the weakness. But there’s a reason John is the captain of his unit—perspicacious eyes stripping anyone and everyone to the bone within minutes of meeting. You’d been no different. And his idolatrous words cut straight through any walls your ex had forced you to raise, like the months you’d spent building them, fortifying them, were naught but air between you.

Your blurred thoughts shake away as John’s thick fingers suddenly close around your chin, fingertips pressing into your cheeks. Puckering your pretty lips. His enthralling jewel blue eyes are lidded and smug, a dangerously sharp edge glinting beneath.

“ Don’t you.”

John has made it his mission to carve self-compassion into your muscle and sinew. Just as you had made it yours to him. But it was hard . After years of driving and driving and driving yourself into the ground. Just one more semester, just one more class, just one more test, just one more year and you did it . But at what cost to yourself? Years of putting yourself aside in pursuit of your dream, it left crippled habits and cruel voices in your head. Your ex—he’d started to heal the long-callused burns, help you lay your own foundation beneath the heavy weight of your life’s work.

But then it ended…

“Get ou’a your head,” John all but growls, tearing your focus violently back to him. “You know the deal, love. When I’m here, I get your attention, mm?” Releasing your trembling breath, you nod, chin dipping into his warm palm. Broken down all too easy after your exhausting week, clearing the path for your usually managed anxiety. John knew that. He knows everything . “Now answer my question.”

You nod, a jittery hollowness bleeding through your limbs, leaving achy exhaustion in its wake.

John dips his mouth against yours, plush lips just touching as he teases you with a kiss. “Words.”

“I do,” you plead, eyes stinging as he gazes sternly (fondly) down at you.

“Mmm, good girl.”

Those two words kick a moan from your chest, has your fingers clenching on the lip of the counter as John releases your chin. Only to brutally rip your scrub top off, revealing your ugly, old-reliable bra. You flush, staring down at the ratty thing.

“I would’ve worn something else if–”

“Swee’art,” John soothes, swiping greedy hands up your ribs, eclipsing your breasts in his eager grip. You hum, both an acknowledgement and a barrier to the whimper threatening to spill over your lips. Your breasts have been terribly sore this week. And John begins kneading them with a force that has your knees shaking around his waist. “Be quiet. Let me enjoy my girl.”

Your jaw goes slack, already shivering as John hikes your knees over his shoulder, scrub pants tossed away, using one hand to flatten you against the counter before the other tugs the gusset of your panties away. You jump as his breath fans your wet pussy, true slick only beginning to drip from your entrance. You can’t help but cry out as his chapped lips seal against your clit, and you need to sink your fingers into his thick hair, grown out and shaggy after months away but your hands are dirty. Never truly feeling clean from a day in your hospital until you shower.

But when John wants something, there's no waiting, no denying. And fuck, doesn’t it make your eyes roll? The long drag of his tongue up your slit sure does, hands curling around the counter’s edge as an anchor.

“Fuck, John,” you moan, lids closing as he settles his broad shoulder between your thighs.

“Looks like my pussy missed me too, eh?” He snarls smugly against you, laying a sloppy, wet kiss against your clit. “Poor thing, already weepin’ f’me.”

You gasp as he slides one finger into you, burying to the first knuckle. Not enough. Not nearly enough after all you’ve had has been your fingers and the little bullet vibrator you managed to save when John pillaged your toy stash. You don’t need toys when you have me. Honestly? You’d laughed in his face, but had been curious if he could live up to the statement. Well, toys don’t live up to the thorough fuckings John carves into your body.

You whimper, eyes caught on the ravenous glint in John’s gaze as he watches his finger sink deeper. Groaning as you clamp down on the invasion. “Relax f’me, darlin’.”

Your soft, dripping walls tighten despite his command as his finger bottoms out. Curling into the spot you can never quite tease as well as him. Into the spot that has your thighs quivering, your elbows giving out fully and your back hits cool countertop. One finger, one damned finger he rubs in maddening circles over that gummy, delicious spot inside you. One finger is all it takes to have you shuddering with the bleeding of your tension. Giving in.

You sigh, a knot in your spine uncoiling as you fully set the weight of your legs on his shoulders. It is bizarre, what little things your brain filters out, like tension, until you feel it blissfully drain away.

“There she is,” John coos against your scorching heat, wetly sucking on your swollen bud like it’s his own personal sweet. You moan through your nose, hips shifting as he begins to pump that single digit in and out. You can feel the drag of every single callus on that finger. Too skilled and dexterous for his own good. The slick trickling out of you soaks your panties, dampens your thighs. “Just lay back, swee'art. Lemme take care o’ ya.”

And so he does. In a sloppy, salacious mess. He stretches you on a second finger too soon, hips bucking into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around your clit before sucking the throbbing pearl into his mouth. The sting of stretching on him too soon merely sharpens the pleasure pooling behind your navel. You scream when he nibbles down, nose buried in the soft flesh of your mons. His other hand digs into the fat of your thigh, bruising and stalwart, ceasing any retreat. You can feel his beard scraping at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the friction burning as it shoots straight into your core. His puffs of breath in between rude slurping and squelching fan like fire over your skin, draggin you further from coherent thought.

Your abdominals flex, his fingers petting your walls in a ploy to soothe the throbbing of your pretty little pussy. But he merely makes you gasp, flinching as a sharp pulse of pleasure rips through you.

“John,” you moan quietly, breasts aching inside your bra, demanding he just rip the confining thing from your body.

Sliding in a third finger, the silver-tongued bastard presses his other palm flat over your mons and lower belly, heavy and insistent as though he can make the fingers inside you touch his palm outside. It makes you groan, arching off the counter though his stony hand keeps you pinned. You feel so stuffed full, you can almost swear his fingers toy with the gummy tip of your cervix. Your pretty lips part around the choked out moan John rips from you with a sudden, harsh thrust straight into your cute little womb.

Every time. Every time your body forgets what it feels like to be fucked by this man. Every time John carves himself a niche anew deep inside your body. Fuck, this is only his fingers?

John laves your sopping cunt with his tongue, filthy wet sounds echoing in your ears as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. Sucking with obscene fervor. The scrape of teeth has you bucking into his mouth again, and he lets out a rock deep groan, vibrating straight into your core.

“Tha’s it, swee’art,” he purrs against the pulsing skin between your legs, the praise vining through your limbs, scraping delicious quivers against your bones. “Get ya nice and loose before I split you on my cock.”

“ John ,” you whine, fingernails bending as you press them into the stone countertop. Heat caresses your cheeks, those depthless eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Tha’ what you want, sweet girl?” He seats his fingers deep, massaging gyres into your heat. His smirk is almost mean, mocking sympathy at you as your thighs tremor around his head. He seats his lips against your clit—a threat as he starts finger fucking you without mercy. Fast, squelching, your arousal coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down the sensitive skin between your arse cheeks.

“Gonna give daddy an orgasm?” he croons before dragging the broad length of his tongue over your clit. Your thighs twitch inward, your stomach pulling tighter and tighter. John doesn’t stop watching you, your face for the slightest twitch for him to exploit. You grit your teeth, tears gathering on your lashes as a half-scream leaks past your lips—the pressure, the heat, the intensity of John on you after so long almost fucking painful. Brows knit together, all that pours from your mouth are beseeching moans, whines as his tongue moves from stroking to circling. Depressing the bundle of nerves as he swipes it around your slick core.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, finally breaking as you viciously curl a hand in the collar of his shirt. Wanting to pull him closer, push him away but you’re stuck. Frozen and at his mercy. “Fuck, please.”

John listens, mouth sealing against your clit as his fingers brutally stretch you, pounding into you as your arousal pools embarrassingly in his palm, drips to the floor. But his eyes merely darken, lids falling to half mast as he moans against you, feeling how your thighs close, tense and shaking. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, face pinched as that coil snakes tighter and tighter. Painful and pressurized and you’re afraid you’ll crack apart once it releases. Fuck, you’re already twitching, shuddering as the thunder gathers. Claps with a deafening bang, lightning striking your blood as one last thrust you feel through your entire body ignites the storm.

Your voice chokes in your throat, body curling off the counter, nails digging bloody strips into John’s shoulder as you break apart. The lightning grips you, John only making it worse as he works you through it, enraptured by the devastated visage you paint above him. He could die a happy man right here, your voice finally breaking free with a wretched scream, tears tracking down your cheeks as shocks ripple your body.

You can feel your release gush against John’s beard, filthy and wet, the knowledge of how pathetic you became in mere minutes adding a sweet burn to the pleasure. Clawing air into your lungs, you whine—sob—his name, your body belonging entirely to another being as it shudders, shatters with your stupefying release. Your abdominals clench, muscles contracted and shaking to the point of ache , stealing more and more of your air.

Finally, finally , your orgasm releases you and you collapse back onto the counter, heaving miserable little whines on every breath. John keeps his fingers stuffed inside you, his tongue turned supplicant and languid as he licks the last of your pleasure from you. Licks until you're keening, pawing at his cheek, asking the man to take pity on you. He does, eventually. Rising from his knees and gently lowering your useless legs away from his shoulders.

John presses down over you, letting you feel his sturdy weight as his mouth captures yours in a sloppy, heated, open-mouthed kiss. You’re too weak to do much more than breath in his scent as he steals two, three, ten more kisses from you. As though he is starved of your touch, needing to take in as much as he can as though you’ll disappear.

When he pulls back, you’re sluggish, eyes barely open as you pant like a dog in heat. The man might as well have sucked the last of your energy out. He sees this, and your belly warms in a calm, safe sort of way as he smiles down at you. Entirely besotted, entranced, enchanted with the sleepy, fucked out look on your face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mm?”

Drop a comment or follow the Ao3 link and tell me what you think! I'm really interested in getting feedback on my first 2nd person PoV piece ever.

#john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod smut #ghost cod

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bigskyandthecoldgun · 1 year ago

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electricity

very loosely based off that one exchange from episode 6 of the dhmis show

words: 4,444

ao3

“Closing shift again, Harrington?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s face shifts from muted disinterest to something like annoyance. “Unfortunately for both of us, yeah,” he mutters, a little red in the face as he rips that stupid little sailor hat off his head and tosses it over his shoulder into the Scoops Ahoy break room. Eddie snorts as it misses the table. Steve runs a hand through his hair and cocks a hip so that he’s leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’ve you got for me?”

Patting the massive tubs of ice cream beside him, Eddie gives Steve as wolfish of a grin as he can muster. “For your beloved freezer,” he says with a low bow, and he glances up just in time to watch Steve roll his eyes. Eddie kicks up the dolly the tubs are stacked on and nods at Steve, to the doorway behind him. “Lemme roll these in.”

“You got it?” Steve asks, stepping aside but hovering at the side of the dolly as Eddie wheels it into the back of Scoops. A couple of the tubs wobble—the ones at the top, because Eddie’s stacked it ten high. He’s not making multiple trips. Steve hisses out a curse under his breath and outstretches his hands by the ice cream, as if he’ll be able to save all of them as long as they fall in his general vicinity. “Careful, careful! Jesus, Munson, these are gonna fall on top of you if you’re not careful, ruin that fantastic hair of yours.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh at the definite sarcasm as he wheels the ice cream into the freezer and sighs contentedly at the feeling of cold air on his skin. He started working at Starcourt a little over a month ago, and the summer’s only gotten hotter. It’s ridiculously hard work, carting around shit to different stores and helping out when security’s short-staffed, and Eddie’s not exactly the most fit person around. Years of smoking and skipping gym class will do that to a guy.

But what makes it all worth it, in Eddie’s humble opinion, is that he gets to spend his summer tormenting King Steve, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, Steve from Scoops Ahoy. It’s a fun little dive into Eddie’s favorite pastime—enacting sweet, sweet revenge. Sure, Steve might not have done anything to him directly, more preferring to stare down his nose at people like Eddie while his lackeys—namely Hagan—did the dirty work for him. Nonetheless, Eddie hates the guy. Well, maybe hate is a bit of a strong word, but he still can’t stand Steve and his stupid hair and his dumb little sailor uniform that has shorts that are way too tight and his dashing smile and his long lashes and his sparkly laugh and—

Bottom line is that Eddie can’t stand the guy. No amount of pretty can fix past slights.

“So,” Eddie says, drawing the word out as Steve heaves the cardboard tubs onto the shelves, and he lets his eyes linger over the cord of taut muscle in Steve’s biceps. Sue him, the guy’s nice to look at. “You got any big plans tonight, Harrington?”

Steve makes a sound that’s about halfway between a scoff and a laugh, with a little bit of contrition mixed in. “Not unless you count sitting on my couch with a lukewarm beer and watching reruns of shitty sitcoms as ‘big plans,’” he says, shifting the tub in his hands to one arm so he can do some sarcastic air quotes, and Eddie blinks. Steve raises a brow at him. “Why, are you offering?”

Willing the heat that’s rushing to his cheeks to screw off, Eddie squints. “To make plans with you? Maybe when hell freezes over, Harrington,” he says, coming off a little more biting than he’d really intended, and Steve’s shoulders tense. A minute change, but a noticeable one. Eddie taps his hands on the now-empty dolly and gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Well, see you tomorrow, sailor.”

“Can’t wait,” Steve says.

Just as Eddie turns to wheel the dolly towards the freezer door, the power goes out. Shit.

“Jesus H. Christ, can’t catch one goddamn break,” he mutters, fidgeting with the flashlight clipped to his belt until it turns on, and Steve groans beside him. Eddie waves the flashlight around the freezer until he shines it at Steve, who squints and throws his hands up in front of his face, and he snickers. “Looking good, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve huffs, cheeks flushed, and he smacks Eddie’s flashlight until the beam’s directed away from his face. It’s hard to see him now that he’s not directly in the light, but Eddie can still see the way his eyes dart around the freezer, can hear the way his breathing picks up. “Shit. Shit, d’you think—it’s probably just a power outage. Right?”

Eddie snorts. “What else would it be?”

Steve levels a glare at him, and Eddie makes a face back, because he hasn’t said anything wrong, and Steve’s just being a dick. “Okay, well, let’s just…get the hell out of here so we can go home,” Steve says, and Eddie couldn’t agree more, actually. He moves past Eddie to get to the door, and Eddie half-expects him to shove past, shoulder him or something, but he doesn’t; he makes himself small, even, shrinking back and around him. Steve tugs on the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Uh oh. Steve tugs at it some more. “Wh—oh, you gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Are we locked in here?” Eddie asks, and it comes out as an embarrassing squeak. Steve’s answering groan doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Why the hell didn’t you prop it open if it locks from the outside?!”

Sighing as he rattles the door some more, Steve glances back at Eddie over his shoulder. “I didn’t know the power would go out while we were in here, man,” he huffs. “Starcourt uses these fancy electronic locks for all the freezers in the building to keep the cold in them as much as possible, helps keep all the stuff in ’em from going bad, but they’re only supposed to go off after hours.”

“So we’re stuck?!” Eddie asks, and Steve gives the door one last yank before giving up.

“Just ’til the power comes back on,” he says, and Eddie can’t think of anything he’d rather avoid more than being stuck with Steve Harrington for an indeterminate amount of time.

That can’t be true. There’s gotta be a failsafe or something, right? That’s a total fire hazard if it doesn’t have one, and the mall wouldn’t cut corners, would it? Oh, who’s Eddie kidding? A corporation cutting corners is, like, a given. Shit. Shit! “For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, doing some yanking of his own on the door handle, flashlight pointed down at the floor, dangling from his belt, but it doesn’t budge. “Fuck! Shit! Son of a fuckin’ bitch, man!”

“Alright, woah,” Steve says with a nervous laugh, “calm down, man—”

“I’m not gonna calm down, we’re fuckin’ trapped!” Eddie snaps, and Steve winces.

“I mean…could be worse? We could be stuck out there, in the heat…?” he offers, and Eddie affixes him with the most supremely unamused look he can muster. “At least we’ve got each other for company, right?”

He can’t make out a lot of Steve’s face in the dark like this, but just looking in the guy’s direction is enough to annoy him. “I’d get heatstroke in a heartbeat if it meant I’d have the ability to be further than five feet from you,” Eddie tells him.

Whatever expression that garners from Steve, Eddie can’t see. “Harsh,” Steve mumbles, and Eddie barks out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay, pardon me for being pissed off that you didn’t do your job and prop the damn door open!” Eddie snaps, and Steve puts his hands up. That, Eddie can see, can make out the gestures in the way his silhouette moves.

“Dude, how was I supposed to know the power would go out?” Steve asks, clearly exasperated, and Eddie hates that that’s a fair point.

He gestures out, all flappy hands and uncoordinated limbs, and he’s pretty sure he smacks a couple of ice cream tubs in his dramatics. “Because it’s common sense! You don’t let a freezer close behind you, man, haven’t you ever worked a food service job before?!” he asks, and Steve is quiet for a while. Eddie huffs out a humorless laugh. “Of course. Of course you haven’t, because Daddy Harrington probably has enough money to—”

“I’m cut off,” Steve interrupts. “Been cut off for years. He sent me money for basic groceries when I was still in school, but he forced me to get this stupid job when I graduated. Since I didn’t get into any colleges, he wants to teach me a lesson about being too dumb for higher education or some shit. I don’t have his money.”

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Steve echoes. “And besides, just because I haven’t worked a job before doesn’t mean you have to be a dick about it. It’s not like the training Scoops gave me was, like, good. Even without a manager, I'm pretty sure we’re not supposed to leave the freezer open.”

That’s…pretty fair, actually. Eddie’s kinda certain he hasn’t seen a manager at Scoops Ahoy since the day the mall opened. And most of his food service job knowledge is based off of sitcoms and movies made for TV that have someone getting trapped in a freezer as a plot device anyway, so who is he to talk?

Still, though, he kind of doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of being right. “Alright, there’s gotta be some way out,” he mutters, grabbing his flashlight to aim it at the doorframe, but there doesn’t seem to be anything. If there is, he certainly doesn’t know what it is. “Shit, shit!”

“Dude,” Steve says, and he sounds a little farther than he’d just been, “chill out. The power’s probably gonna come back any minute now.”

Eddie whirls around, and Steve is sitting on the floor, twirling that stupid sailor hat around his pointer finger. He squints a bit in the beam of light, and Eddie hates that it makes his nose scrunch up all cute and shit. He can’t stand the guy. “You’re infuriating,” he tells Steve, “you know that?”

Lips quirking up in what Eddie’s pretty sure is a sad little smile, Steve shrugs. “So I’ve heard,” he says, and Eddie’s eye twitches. Steve pats the empty spot next to him. “You can sit down, y’know.”

Eddie sits where he is. He doesn’t feel like getting closer to Steve Harrington than strictly necessary, thanks very much. Steve just shrugs, tossing his hat from one pointer finger to the other, and Eddie redirects his flashlight. There’s the soft thump of something hitting the ground, followed by a quiet swear. Eddie snorts. “You drop your hat?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “You wanna lend me some light?”

“Not particularly,” Eddie says dryly.

Steve just hums. It drives Eddie a little crazy. “Wanna play twenty questions?” Steve asks him, and it’s so goddamn bizarre that Eddie busts out laughing.

“Are you—you’re not serious,” Eddie cackles. “What, like we’re at a high school party? C’mon, man, why the hell do you wanna play twenty questions with me in an ice cream freezer?”

A short pause. “To pass the time, I guess,” Steve says. “You got a better idea? ’Cuz I’m all ears, Munson, really.”

Damn.

Eddie doesn’t have a better idea.

“Okay, fine,” he sighs, “what’s your first question?”

There’s some shuffling, like Steve is sitting up properly, and it’s not endearing, it’s not. If anything, it should be pathetic that he’s so excited to play some dumb party game in the freezer of a nautical-themed ice cream parlor. “What’s your favorite hobby?” Steve asks him. “Like, not the one you do most often, or the one you’re best at, but the one you think is the most fun.”

Eddie makes a face. “You have hobbies that aren’t fun?”

He moves his flashlight over to shine at Steve, who nods. “Yeah, man. Like, I don’t hate them, but they’re not fun. Just something to do to pass the time, or something I do with my dad and his business partners, like golfing,” he says with a shrug. “Go on, answer, what’s your favorite hobby?”

Eddie’s having a hard time getting past the idea that Steve isn’t passionate about his hobbies, but only does them to have something to do for the sake of doing something. Or for the sake of someone else, someone that had apparently cut him off. “Uh,” he says eloquently, “I don’t know. I like all my hobbies.”

Steve tilts his head like a confused dog. It’s dumb. “Really? Huh. Alright, lemme change my question, then. What are your hobbies?”

“I play guitar for my band, I run Dungeons and Dragons campaigns—”

“Oh, shit, really? That’s cool, the kids I babysit play that game, too,” Steve says, and Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. Steve’s head-tilt gets a little tiltier, and he snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you run the club at the high school, don’t you? Hotfire or something?”

“Hellfire,” Eddie corrects hollowly, and Steve winces apologetically.

“Sorry. Shit gets mixed up in my brain sometimes. Buncha concussions, you know how it is,” he dismisses, and Eddie very much does not know how it is. Steve perks up. “Your turn.”

Eddie is, admittedly, kind of dumbfounded. “Uh, what’s your dream job?”

Frowning, Steve glares down at the tile. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At that, Eddie scoffs. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t be serious,” he says. “Everybody’s got a dream job, man, even if it’s totally outlandish. I mean, I wanna be a bigshot metal guitarist for a world-famous band—preferrably mine—even though I know there’s, like, an almost-zero chance of that happening.”

Steve just shrugs. “Maybe, like, be a teacher or something? But I couldn’t get into college, so…not likely,” he says. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” Eddie says, “yours?”

“Swear you won’t laugh,” Steve says, and Eddie blinks at him. Steve crosses his arms. “Munson, swear it.”

“Okay, okay, I promise I won’t laugh,” Eddie says. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Tiffany blue,” Steve answers finally, and, come on, Eddie can’t help it if he chuckles just a little. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Eddie snickers, trying and failing to hide it behind his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—that’s such a snooty color to pick,” he wheezes, and Steve glares at him.

He drags his hat around in circles on the ground with one finger and pointedly doesn’t look at Eddie. “Yeah, well, I like it ’cuz it’s my mom’s favorite,” Steve mumbles, brows drawn together, and now Eddie feels kinda bad for laughing. Only a tiny bit, though. Steve glances up at him. “If you had to pick a movie world to live the rest of your life in, which would it be?”

That’s…actually a pretty cool question. Not that Eddie would tell him that.

“Um…my favorite movies are horror movies, so those are a no-go,” he says, and Steve laughs. It’s good-natured and nice, stupid and sparkly. Eddie clears his throat. “But, uh, I’d probably go with Star Wars.”

“No way, me too!” Steve says, and Eddie blinks. Steve grins. “I like the one with the little teddy bear guys, you know the…”

He trails off into an impression of the ewoks, and it’s painfully charming. Annoying. Annoying, not charming. “You know those are called ewoks, not ‘little teddy bears,’ right?” Eddie asks, because he’s nothing if not a pedantic asshole, and Steve just smiles at him.

“Eh, tomato, to-mah-to,” he says. “Your turn.”

Eddie tilts his head back. “Who was your first kiss?” he asks, and Steve doesn’t answer for a while, which is weird. There’s this pained look on his face, and he won’t quite meet Eddie’s eye. “What, is it, like, someone you’ve deemed ‘embarrassing?’”

“That’s…not it,” Steve sighs. “It’s just—I don’t want you to, like, flip out and punch me or some shit, man.”

At that, Eddie laughs, but his curiosity is piqued. “Have you seen me, Harrington? I’m a total toothpick. I’m, like, pretty sure if I tried to punch you, I’d break my own arm,” he says. “Who was it, seriously? Some dorky chick you think I know? Is that why you think I’ll flip out?”

“No,” Steve tells him, “it was, um…it was at camp, summer after fifth grade.”

“I asked you who, not when or where,” Eddie says.

“And I don’t know who it was,” Steve shoots back.

Eddie makes a face. “Oh, bullshit, dude, you were at camp with this girl and you didn’t know who she was?” he scoffs. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to forget, but just say you forgot her name, then.”

“I didn’t forget,” Steve tells him, “I don’t know.”

Crossing his arms, Eddie points his flashlight right at Steve’s eyes. “Be so serious. You gotta know. Why else would you think I’d flip out?”

“Because—! It doesn’t matter.”

“Just tell me! You’re not honoring the rules of the game, Harrington, you’re the one who wanted to play—”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know who it was!”

“Bullshit!”

“I never got his name!”

Record scratch.

Steve’s face goes bright red, and he ducks his head so that Eddie can’t see his expression. It’s just as well, because the flashlight clatters to the ground when Eddie drops it, and he hurries to scoop it back up, eyes as wide as humanly possible. There’s no way. There’s no way, right? He’s just doing this to fuck with Eddie, he has to be, that’s—that has to be what it is. It’s eerily silent, and Eddie shines the flashlight at Steve again, swallowing.

It’s audible. It toes the line between gross and annoying.

Eddie toes that line often.

“It was a dude?” Eddie asks, because he really needs some clarification here. “Your first kiss was with another guy?”

There must be something in his tone that he hadn’t intended to put in there, because Steve’s whole posture shifts. His shoulders square, his jaw goes tight, and he looks down his nose at Eddie, even though they’re both sitting on the ground, like it’s a challenge, like it’s a dare. “You got a problem with that, you keep it to yourself,” Steve says, voice carefully even. “We’re gonna sit here and—and we’re not gonna say anything ’til the power comes back on. Game’s over.”

He looks away again. Eddie’s flashlight flickers, and he turns it off, because it they might need it to get out of the mall once the power comes back, in case the timed lights turn off by the time it does. It’s silent for a long while, and Eddie’s kicking himself. He shouldn’t have pried. Shit, now Steve probably thinks he’s a total asshole.

“Sorry for ruining the game,” Eddie says after a while. “My bad, man, really.”

A long stretch of nothing. Eddie calls Steve’s name after another couple of minutes.

“It’s fine,” Steve says quietly. “I don’t know why I didn’t just, like, lie. I usually do, y’know, when that question comes up.”

“If it, um, makes you feel any better, I’m—I haven’t had one,” Eddie offers. “A first kiss, I mean.”

More silence.

“Are you messing with me?” Steve asks, several long moments later, and Eddie shakes his head, even though they’re bathed in darkness, and Steve can’t see him.

He scoots closer, close enough that he can feel the body heat radiating off of Steve without the two of them touching. “Nope. Cross my heart, hope to die, all that good stuff. Haven’t kissed anybody. Not for lack of trying, mind you, but, uh, pretty sure nobody’s exactly jumping at the chance to kiss the town freak, and it’s not like it’d be any good if they did, because, like I said, zero prior kisses,” Eddie rambles. “I’d probably suck at it.”

A light chuckle. Thank fuck. “Probably,” Steve agrees.

“Probably,” Eddie echoes.

They sit in silence for a while longer, though it isn’t uncomfortable this time, which Eddie supposes is a plus. The freezer is just barely less cold, which means the power’s still out, which sucks. How long are they gonna be trapped in here? It’s chilly as hell. How long is Eddie supposed to be trapped in a freezer with Steve Harrington, armed with the knowledge that he’s apparently kissed one whole boy before?

Eddie definitely isn’t straining to see the time on his watch. He definitely doesn’t watch it tick for fifteen whole fucking minutes before Steve speaks up again. “Hey, uh, what happened to your flashlight?” he asks.

“I’m saving the batteries,” Eddie tells him.

A beat. “Saving the batteries…for what?” Steve asks.

“Oh, I was planning on putting them in my Walkman, actually,” Eddie snaps, a little on the sarcastic side, because they’ve been trapped in here for a while, and the freezer is steadily dropping in temperature. Embarrassed, though, because Steve should arguably be the only really upset person in this freezer right now, Eddie barrels on. “Anyway, we may as well get used to being in the dark.”

“Yeah…” Steve murmurs, trailing off, like there’s another thought accompanying it that he just isn’t saying.

Eddie’s brows furrow. “What?”

“Well, it’s just not that great, is it?” Steve hums. “I wouldn’t mind looking at the mall again, and…maybe…looking at you.”

Eddie snorts. “Really? You like looking at me?” he scoffs.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve admits, voice soft. “I suppose I do.”

Eddie feels his face go hot. “Well, I like looking at you, too,” he confesses under the cover of darkness, because it feels a lot safer than it would if he could see the pitying wince that’s probably on Steve’s face right now.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, sounding vaguely pleased, and Eddie doesn’t get him. He doesn’t understand King Steve, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, Steve from Scoops Ahoy, who apparently babysits D&D-playing kids and likes the ewoks in Star Wars and kissed a boy at camp. Steve’s shoulder presses against his own. “Thanks. For that.”

Eddie swallows. It’s audible again, and he really wishes he knew how to cut that shit out, because it does a hell of a job of giving him away. “Yeah, man, no—um, no problem.”

“You know,” Steve starts, “I could be your first kiss. For practice.”

“For practice,” Eddie repeats flatly.

What an asshole. He should’ve known this was some elaborate setup to get Eddie to admit that all the rumors about him are true, to humiliate him or some shit.

Steve laughs, but it isn’t cruel like Eddie’s expecting. It’s soft, almost embarrassed. “Sorry, I just—that’s how the boy at camp got me to kiss him, figured I’d try the line out,” he says. “Guess I still don’t have my game back.”

“Your game?” Eddie asks, because what the hell is happening right now?

“You know, how I, like, suck at flirting lately,” Steve says. “I mean, I’ve been flirting with you all summer, and it took us getting stuck in a freezer for you to be even a little nice to me. Well, to get you to admit you don’t hate looking at my face, but I’ll take it.”

Record scratch number two.

“I—sorry, what?” Eddie asks, eyes practically bugging out of his head, and Steve shrugs with a quiet laugh. Eddie shakes his head. “Not fucking funny, man, you can’t just—you can’t say shit like that.”

“What, I can’t be honest with you?”

“You’re not—! You aren’t being honest, you’re fucking with me!”

Another little laugh. “Well, I’d like to be, but you don’t seem to like me very much,” Steve tells him. “What’d you say again? ‘When hell freezes over?’ Robin’s gonna have a field day with that ‘You Suck’ board of hers when I tell her I got rejected again.”

Eddie rethinks his entire summer.

Come to think of it, if he doesn’t consider a lot of Steve’s comments to be sarcastic, it actually does come across as incessant flirting.

Son of a bitch.

“How—why are you—what makes you so confident I won’t be an asshole about this?” Eddie asks, utterly bewildered.

Steve tilts his head—the shadows move, he sees the silhouette of Steve’s annoyingly perfect hair sway with the movement. “I mean, considering you apologized for ruining the game after I told you my first kiss was with a dude, figured I’d have nothing to lose except for my pride, of which I have remarkably little,” he says. “I’m pretty much shameless, man. And besides, your whole thing is, like, standing on tables and shitting on everyone else for conforming to society’s expectations, so…it’d be pretty weird if you were homophobic.”

This shit just gets crazier and crazier. “You paid attention to me in high school?” Eddie asks, and his eyes are adjusting to the light now. He can make out the faint, nostalgic smile on Steve’s face.

“Oh, I had the biggest crush on you my freshman year,” Steve tells him. “But, y’know, you made it very apparent you weren’t the biggest fan of jocks, and I’d already joined, like, a bunch of different teams, so—”

Eddie cuts him off by practically smashing his mouth against Steve’s, all jittery nerves. He’s not a very good kisser, but Steve lets out a tiny, pleased hum anyway as he lifts his hands to Eddie’s waist, tugging him closer just slightly. It’s insane. It’s bizarre. By all rules of both basic logic and the Munson Doctrine, this should not be happening. Steve Harrington should not be carefully and softly moving his lips against Eddie’s, but here they are.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie breathes, pulling back, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Steve tells him, and Eddie can’t really argue with that, “but, uh, I’m sorry, too. The whole pigtail-pulling strategy really doesn’t work with you, huh?”

The mental image of Steve tugging his hair does something to Eddie that he’s a little too ashamed to admit. “Um,” he manages, “yeah.”

“Sorry about all of high school, then,” Steve says, and he kisses Eddie again.

And just as Steve’s hand snakes underneath Eddie’s shirt, the lights in the freezer come back on, and cold air begins to blast through the vents.

Once again, son of a bitch.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #my fic #cross posted on ao3 #i really hope i did tumblr formatting right #i'm not used to it lmao

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electricbluebutterflies · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! i love your tess/joel fics on ao3, i love reading them!! so thank you for writing for a small fandom like this <3

could you write a prompt maybe about a drunk joel being very affectionate with tess?

Vaguely NSFW and also on ao3.

She gets home later, for once.

Late enough the sun is starting to set, late but bearing household supplies because she’d had the time and patience to go through more official channels for once. Ration cards do need to be used occasionally, Tess reasons, important to keep up appearances despite all their sidelines, and-

She doesn’t expect to be greeted with a bear hug as soon as she closes the door, but apparently it’s that kind of night. Lovely.

“Lemme empty my hands before you do anything,” she murmurs against her partner’s neck. Nothing particularly breakable in her bag, fine, but she can smell the slightest hint of something on him and she knows she has more control at the moment and-

He is, at least, cooperative. This is a good sign. Live ten years with another person and you get well acquainted with what they’re like when they drink, and Joel’s two possible settings in that state are affectionate or brooding. Neither is particularly problematic – neither approaches her own options of either very affectionate or slightly violent, depending on her surroundings – but too tactile is more welcome than not enough, and-

“I ever say how pretty you are?”

Tess laughs, feels herself getting all warm as she makes sure her bag is safely on the counter where she can deal with its contents… probably in the morning, the way this evening seems to be going. Far as she can remember, he hasn’t said a damn thing about her body in any context that isn’t her on top of him since their second encounter, and she knows what she does to him and that knowing is enough but still-

“Not the right way,” she says, taking two steps back towards him and moving her hips as much as her skinny body will allow. “Not like you mean it.”

He’s on her again in a heartbeat, mouth on hers how she likes, low growl as she gets her teeth around his lower lip. She can taste the liquor now, vaguely chemical and slightly too sweet, nothing she’ll complain about him not saving any for her, and she’ll ask what the occasion was later, not now, not-

“That clear for you?”

“You even know what you’re doin’ to me?” Less important with how established their dynamic is, with all of this being a normal enough evening regardless of respective sobriety levels, but still-

“Can’t I just want you?”

She knows she shouldn’t worry so much, should shut up and let what happens happen. They do have that kind of dynamic, neither of them is about to do something regrettable, and-

“Is it that easy, or am I just a good distraction?”

“You ever stop worrying?”

For this he gets an eyeroll he won’t remember – Tess will take her advantages where she can – and a few kisses along the jaw. “One of us got to,” she murmurs. “I do it easier.”

“Don’ need to right now, girl.”

She lets it go, because there’s no reason to ruin the moment with a fight, because it’s damn hard to be anything but turned on with his hands trying to get her jacket off her. She’s got on adequate layers for late fall and she likes being passive this time of year, four layers above the waist but no bra is always a fun payoff and-

“You always just skip to the good parts. No patience.”

“Why would I ever wait around for you?”

She’s sure that sounds like a compliment in his mind, even if that’s not how it came out, and… there’s something very safe about the way he wants her, how clear he is about it when it matters, and-

“Do somethin’ useful with your mouth.”

Usually she’d get backed against a wall after that kind of comment, or otherwise given some other support, but today Joel is impatient and that’s just more questions and good thing her lower layers are a lot simpler and-

“Useful like that?” he asks, enough sense to pause for a moment on his knees at eye level with her bits.

“Lemme sit down so I don’t-“

It is easier for both of them if she perches on the edge of the couch, legs parted, well aware this is almost a least-of-evils situation. It’ll be good, she knows, it’ll be good, he takes care of her so well, he-

Always so quiet when he goes down on her, always so focused, won’t ever say he loves her but does this so easily so it all balances out. All she has to do is let it happen, and she adores him so much, and-

He’s good for her. Don’t need to be more than that.

She gets through her first orgasm quiet enough, but the second hits wrong and she gets breathless for a moment and goddammit he’s not so great at comforting her in this state and-

“Get down here with me. ‘S okay.”

Her legs practically give out as she lets her body fall to the floor, and again another bear hug, again the fully-clothed warmth of that man and-

“Bad energy,” she murmurs. “Not you. Never you.”

“”S okay. I got you.”

Tess stays curled up mostly under her lover for a while, different position than they usually take but everything she needs right now. They take care of each other, she remembers in these moments, they take care of each other so well and-

Love you too, she thinks in the silence. No need to ever say it out loud.

#ebf writes fic #joel x tess #queue

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Note

nat something about toji drives me absolutely feral, can i have a scenario or something where he meets reader at a bar and they have a steamy one night stand i don’t know i just want this beeg beefy dilf to absolutely ruin my puthy (fem reader please!)

anon, i really hope you have a corruption kink

Favourite (So Far) - Toji x Fem!Reader (5k)

Toji sees you sitting alone at a bar; all quiet and soft and unsure, and absolutely begging to be ruined - and he decides he can help with that.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, mentions of murder. corruption kink, virgin reader, dacryphilia, fingering, coming inside, dirty talk.

Toji normally doesn’t bother lingering after he’s held up his end of the bargain, but the money is burning a hole in his pocket and the minute he’d left the body of the man he’d been hired to kill locked in the back office of the bar, he’d remembered you.

He estimates he’s got a good half an hour before anyone realises the man is dead. If they’d wanted him to clear up after himself, they should have written it in the contract – still, with how awkward you’d looked and how your eyes kept darting about the place, Toji is pretty sure he’ll have you away from the bar and with his arm around your waist in . . . ooh, ten minutes? Fifteen, at a push.

He knows your type.

You’re uncomfortable, watching your friends go off and flirt and dance – pulling at your skirt (you’re uncomfortable in that, too), tugging your thin shirt up to cover your chest, ordering something non-alcoholic and looking morosely at it. Your eyes avoiding when men try and catch your gaze, your posture tensing – he’s pretty certain that you do not want to be here, and Toji is going to offer you an alternative that he thinks you might prefer.

You don’t notice him until he’s right beside you (people never do), leaning in against your ear, one of his arms slapping on the bar beside you, caging you in on your barstool. You start, moving back, blinking your pretty eyes at him in clear surprise, your mouth a soft ‘o’ – ah. Toji can tell you’re the kind of girl who isn’t used to male attention, who doesn’t think that you’re anything special. Shy. Probably untouched-- he’s grinning at you, and he doesn’t miss the little swallow, the flash of interest in your eyes (girls like you always like the idea of getting involved in something a little dangerous)--

“Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is rough and low and dark, startling you from your reverie. Your friends have all, indeed, long gone – after sighing at you that you’re no fun, that they shouldn’t have asked you to come out with them anyway – you’re surprised by the man it belongs to, all raven hair and piercing green eyes and a scar on his lip that your eyes can’t help but trace the line of – how does somebody end up with a scar like that?

“Oh,” you bluster, feeling embarrassed and unsure by the way he’s looking at you, the easy way he throws out the pet name, the casual authority he’s emanating by how you’ve been caged. “I’m-- I don’t really--”

He chuckles.

“Me neither,” he says. “Lemme get you somethin’ soft, then--”

It would be easier, he thinks, if you had agreed – if you’d been softened a little bit by the buzz of alcohol. Still, he knows that what he gives off is heady enough that you’ll come with him anyway – he doesn’t drink himself, so he’s not exactly going to blame you for wanting to keep your wits about you. Smart thing, for all of how vulnerable you look in a short skirt and high heels and a low-cut top. He’s ordered something for you before you can refute – you can’t deny to yourself that it’s nice. It’s nice to have someone be interested in you. It’s nice, too, that said someone is rugged and six foot something with corded veins and muscle in thick biceps and forearms.

You’re staring at him, and Toji allows it, letting his own gaze crawl across your pretty face, your body, the way the cheap lights of this dive are picking out the shine in your eyes and the gloss of your lipstick.

“What’s a cute little thing like you doin’ on her own somewhere like this?” He asks you, lifting the glass to his lips. You try not to stare at them, though your stomach is twisting. You shrug, awkwardly.

“I got dragged here by some friends,” you say, inclining your head towards the dance-floor, where your friends are very much living up to their earlier assertion that they were going to have a wild time and if you weren’t going to join in, then you could just wallow in your misery.

“Ah,” he raises his eyebrows, eyes briefly brushing over where you’d indicated before returning to you. Something about the way that those eyes are pinning you like a butterfly to a cork board makes you squirm, heat curling in your lower belly. Nobody has ever looked at you like that before. This man is staring at you like he wants to take you apart, and it’s exhilarating. “You not the dancin’ sort, huh?” Another swallow. The bob in his throat is mesmerising. “Can’t blame ya. Pretty thing like you’s probably inundated with attention the minute y’get out there--”

You laugh, softly, heat rising to your cheeks. Toji can’t help but think how cute that is – you’re so obviously unaware of yourself. When he gets you on your back, he knows you’ll have that certain kind of naivety that never fails to get him hard and aching in his pants; wide eyes and bitten lips and breath dying in your throat at the touch of his teeth and hands and cock.

“Nothing like that,” you say, “I just--”

Your eyes catch something. Toji looks too, as you’re interrupted by a pretty girl tottering up to you both in an even shorter skirt and even higher heels. Her eyes linger on Toji, a fraction too long, before she turns to you and pouts and says your name, making you wince. There’s a whining tone to her voice.

She’s complaining that someone’s spilt a drink over her, and Toji sees now that her expensive-looking shirt is stained dark brown. He hadn’t noticed the scent of beer wafting from her because of the overall air of the bar is absolutely saturated in it, but now that she’s right there . . . he wrinkles his nose.

“You have to come home with me, nobody else will,” she tugs on your arm. “And you said you weren’t having fun anyway, so you can always stay there, but I need to change out of this--”

There’s a world-weary quality in your eyes. Something that suggests to Toji that you’re used to being the designated person to take care of your friends, to dropping things to clean up after them – those big eyes and the downturn of your mouth and the softness of your voice all suggest to him that maybe part of the reason you’re so demure, so . . . innocent . . . is because you haven’t had a chance to explore anything else.

Toji drapes a thick arm around your shoulders. You jump at the contact – but almost as if it’s against your will, you nestle into him. Closer to him. A prey animal knows when it’s being protected, after all – even if it doesn’t know, yet, that he’s the predator.

“We’re a bit busy here,” he says, keeping his tone affable with a knife-sharp edge. The girl opens her mouth, as if she’s going to protest – but Toji grins, his eyes darkening, his mouth tilting to show just a little bit too much teeth. He lets himself draw himself up a little taller, so that his breadth and his height and the taut muscles beneath his tight shirt are unarguable. Your friend falters, shoots you a look, and then shrugs.

“F-fine,” she says, “I’ll go on my own--”

She walks away, pouting, storm clouds rising off of her. You’re trembling imperceptibly (adorable) – he thinks this might be the first time you’ve ignored one of your friends. Eager to please little thing, he supposes – the kind of person who wants to be liked and will do almost anything to keep it that way, with big doe eyes and a trembling lip and your chest thrust out unconsciously.

Oh, he will ruin you, and you’ll thank him for it afterwards.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’ my boundaries there,” he says to you, and you look at him with your eyes big and wide and wet your lips, his cock giving an answering throb. You breathe very softly;

“N-no, thank you, it’s . . . it’s nice to not have to deal with them, for once--”

Toji leans further into you, his arm not leaving your shoulders – close enough that his breath tickles the shell of your ear, and your brain short-circuits at a handsome older man leaning so close and intimately to you.

“You don’t wanna stay here, though, do ya?” His other hand is suddenly on your leg, calloused fingertips brushing the soft skin of your thigh. Your heart skips a beat, your body reacting – threads of heat sewing themselves into knots between your thighs. “You wanna split?”

His eyes do not stray to the clock behind the bar, but he estimates it’s been about eleven minutes. Longer than he was expecting, but – as you bite your lip and stand up, letting his fingertips drag dangerously close to the part of you between your legs, Toji decides it’s worth it.

His place is nothing special. For a man as well-paid as he is, you’d expect something a little classier, maybe – but for a man with the kind of profession Toji Fushiguro has, he doesn’t spend much time in it. He’s too busy travelling to care about it beyond anything other than a place to crash, eat, and bring home his conquests. And you don’t seem disgusted by it as he pushes you roughly into the room, arm locking around your waist, mouth dipping to taste you – so Toji doesn’t worry about it too much.

You’re still trembling against him, your entire body thrumming with energy that you’re not used to – but that all works to his advantage. It works to the advantage of directing you into his room, until your back hits the bed with a soft ‘whoomph’ of air and Toji is kneeling over you, your eyes big and wide and blown as they look up at him.

You’d been so easy to convince back here. You’d made a couple of quiet whispers about how you shouldn’t, the way that good girls like you do – but his fingers had cupped your cheek and his body had pressed against yours and he’d smiled that dangerous knife-edge smile and you’d been putty in his hands, trembling kneed and so very adaptable as you’d walked beside him with your breath unsteady in your chest at your own daring.

Now, though, with a man’s bed behind you and a man’s cock digging into your stomach where he has you caged underneath him, things are beginning to feel far more real. You take another shuddering breath, not meeting his eyes as you whisper;

“I—I haven’t--”

Oh, fuck. If you knew what those little words did to him – if you could have heard the monster roaring in his chest at how excited he was that he’d not only get to utterly ruin you, but to get to be the first one to do it . . . He’d let himself hope, based on your way of holding yourself all demure and prim, that you’d be a virgin, but to hear it from your own lips with your skin rapidly heating up under the confession.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Toji practically coos at you, as his big fingers go to your shirt, tugging it off with expert precision. “I ain’t gonna break you—”

(Well. Not in any way you aren’t going to beg for.)

Breath caught in your throat as your bra is unclipped, the lacy garment dropped onto the floor. His own shirt follows – you can barely stop yourself ogling him, the firm abdominal muscles, the scars across his pectorals. You can tell, based on how many scars he’s bearing, just how dangerous the man above you must be.

The one like a starburst is a bullet scar, you’re pretty sure. The one wrapping around his side is too big to be anything but a knife or a sword – this is a man involved in something dangerous, something shady – and even that isn’t enough to get you to ask him to stop.

Staring down at your newly exposed breasts, Toji can’t resist leaning in; sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, dragging his teeth across the sensitive bud, lapping at it until your back arches and you whimper so prettily that it goes straight through him and straight to his cock. The wet kisses trail back up to your neck, blunt teeth tugging at your skin, sucking quickly stinging bruise marks into the skin so that everybody will know what this cute little virgin was up to last night--

A rough tug to your earlobe makes you moan. A nip to your lower lip makes you practically mewl. And his rough fingertips pushing up your skirt to your waist, letting his fingers dig into your plush thighs so hard that there’s no way you won’t be marked with fingerprints tomorrow – that makes you whine.

“You like bein’ pushed around a little bit, cutie?” The pet name, again, has blood rushing to your face and heat rushing to between your legs. You’re suddenly so very aware of how slick you are, how your underwear is clinging to the folds of your sex. How much of that is his fingers and how much of it is his voice and how much of it is how exposed you are in front of him, you don’t know – but you bite your lip and avert your gaze, and this just seems to spur him on. Both of you know the answer: yes. Yes, you do like being pushed around a little bit--

“These are soaking wet,” he tells you, as the matching lacy underwear to your bra is peeled off of you. He readjusts himself, grabbing your thigh and pressing your knee against your chest so that he can move his hips between your two legs as well as get a proper look at what you’ve been hiding beneath the tiny skirt – he lets out a low whistle, those green eyes greedily drinking you in like you’re a painting hung in an art gallery. “Well, look at you. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

He sees how the compliment makes you squirm at the same time as it makes your cute little hole, exposed thanks to the stretch of your leg, flutter around nothing. He might break you if he doesn’t prepare you properly; you’re so small, and it’s been a real long time since he bedded a virgin--

One of his fingers drags through your slick with no preamble, brushing your fluttering hole, and the noise catches in your throat – halfway between a whimper and a soft sigh, a noise that does not serve to do anything but make him repeat the motion, gathering your glimmering arousal on the same thick digit. He brings it to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste you.

“Mm, you should taste yourself,” he says to you, eyes glinting. “You’re like honey, sweetheart--” Toji doesn’t wait for you to say yes or no. His finger pushes past your lips, so you’re forced to taste yourself on his fingertips, brushing over your tongue. His eyes focus very deeply on you, like you’re the only thing in his orbit worth paying attention to. “Why don’t you give my finger a suck, darlin’? You’ll want it as wet as you can get it--”

Not that you’re not plenty wet enough. But there’s something so endearing about the feel of your tongue hesitantly licking at him, the shine of your eyes. If he wasn’t hard enough to cut diamonds, he would have you suck his cock first, if only to see those pretty lips wrapped around his shaft and to hear you choke a little bit, to see your makeup go runny and messy and ruined--

“Atta girl,” he says, roughly, pulling his finger out (the trail of drool sends another of those throbs of heat through him). The finger drags over your slit again, parting the plump lips – and then, he’s pushing his finger inside you, your walls pulsing around him. You’re so fucking tight. He knows you weren’t lying about being a virgin – the gasp that dies in your throat, the hand that tangles in his bedsheets, the little lift of your hips to help him along – all of those are things that are entirely sensation responses, not in the least calculated, and Toji loves that.

The finger pumps in and out of you, helped along by your slick, until he can press another alongside it and scissor them gently, stretching out your channel in preparation for what you’re going to take in a matter of minutes. Your teeth keep digging into your bottom lip, as if you’re afraid to make too much of a noise – he chuckles as he brushes your swollen clit with his thumb.

“C’mon,” he growls, “don’t hold out on me. Lemme hear you--”

Oh, you’re so embarrassed – but you’re also, he can tell, the kind of girl who can’t resist an order. You let your mouth relax, drop open – and next time his thumb rubs firmly across your clit, the noise is caught only by the ceiling above you both. He makes some little noise of praise that you can’t fully discern, because now he’s started pulling forth your pleasure he doesn’t want to stop. Three fingers. His thumb, toying with your clit, rubbing firm circles with it as he feels your channel clench and quiver around his fingers. He rubs at the textured spot on your inner walls and you groan, your other hand gripping his forearm, your brow forming sweat. Your hips are circling, needy, in search of more stimulation.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Toji asks you, his voice like cigarettes and leather. “C’mon. Let me see-- let me feel your pretty cunt clench--”

Something about the dirty words pushes you over the edge and you tumble down a dark hole, fireworks exploding inside of you, stars bursting into being behind your eyelids as pleasure washes over you in great waves. You soak Toji’s fingers, your walls sucking him in deeper and deeper.

Your breath comes in great pants, the aftershocks of your orgasm still gently rippling through you even as Toji pulls his fingers out of you. You look up at the man as he adjusts himself with his other hand, as if in a haze – and as if in a haze, when he roughly pushes those three fingers back into your mouth, you suckle on them with your mind and thoughts all misty. All you can think about is him. That’s what he wanted, anyway – cute little demure virgin, cock drunk even without him fucking you properly – he breaks girls like you on the regular, but you might be one of his favourites.

He tugs down his pants enough to reveal his flushed cock, curving to lay against his stomach, hard and leaking precome from a reddened tip. Your eyes widen (he always loves that moment), as you realise why he took pains to prepare you with his fingers.

“Whaddya think?” He asks you, teasing, wrapping his fist around the shaft. Even his big hands around it do nothing to make it look smaller, and you barely realise that you’re staring until he slaps your thighs with it, streaking his own wetness all over you. “You’ll give a man a complex, sweetheart--”

“I-I don’t have much to compare it to,” you say, desperately, heated and needy even though you literally just came. You want him inside you. You never thought you’d be so easily broken down into wanting to be fucked, but here you are – something primal inside of you is awoken by the size of his cock and the glitter in his eyes and the sculpted muscle, and you want to be desecrated. “Y-you look big--”

He laughs at that. Yeah, you definitely don’t have much to compare it to if that’s your take-away. Still. It’s cute, how you’ve spread your legs a little wider, how you’re not hiding the fact you’re looking at him like he’s some kind of angel who’s finally granted you a taste of the celestial city.

“I feel big too,” he tells you, with a smirk that rattles you to your core. “Wanna find out?”

When you nod, he grins – those big hands take a hold of your thighs, pressing both of your knees to your chest this time. He takes a moment to enjoy you in this position – those wide eyes, the lewd splay of your legs revealing the glimpse of your cunt still tantalisingly shining with the remnants of your orgasm. You squirm under his hungry gaze, exposed – and that does nothing to quell the hunger that seems to be thrumming through Toji, with every clench and wriggle.

“Good,” he tells you, rubbing his cock through the mess you’ve made of yourself, making sure the head nudges your clit and he can see the way you shiver. “You’re bein’ such a good girl for me--”

He catches on your entrance and you let out a keen. With your knees pressed to your chest, you’re unable to get a grip on Toji’s shoulders, and you have to console yourself with fisting the bedsheets beneath you (rumpled even before you’d ended up there).

The position he’s got you in means that you feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, every throb – inch by inch, as he sheaths himself slowly inside you. He can’t help but watch as your jaw goes slack, as your eyes cloud with the feeling of him entering you – as tears bead in the corner of your eyes at the burn and stretch--

Oh, fuck, the tears. He wonders if you feel the way that his cock seems to harden at that, at how pretty you look all glassy-eyed and helpless and trying to take him. He’s maybe two thirds in and almost at the limit of forward motion, but you whimper, letting your head fall back--

“P-please,” you say, “I—I can take it--”

He laughs, low and dangerous. He leans in, brushes his lips over your sweat slicked forehead. His tone is syrupy sweet when he speaks, as he angles his hips just so that he sinks another aching inch into the sweet kiss of your tight cunt.

“Oh, I know you will, sweetheart,” he murmurs, sounding almost like a threat. His eyes flash downwards, to see how tightly you’re clinging to him – how big his cock looks, disappearing into your slick sex. How the glistening ring of your need coats him. Just a bit further – watching himself claim you is almost hypnotic.

He wants to see you on your hands and knees, watch his cock stretch you out that way. He wants to see you gag and choke and drool around his cock, wants to see your small hands wrap around him, wants to have you in every position until you’re so fucked silly you can barely move--

But for now, he hilts inside of you, his balls slapping against your slick skin. His face splits into a smile as his eyes travel back up, to the bulge in your stomach that he knows is from just how big his cock is, to your thighs trembling even with him keeping them prone against you. You’re so cute. The tears have spilled past the rim of your eyelids now, wetting your cheeks – they’re so maddeningly sexy, on your pretty face. He’s not going to last half as long as he wants to, he doesn’t think – not when you’ve been driving him to distraction since the moment he laid eyes on you.

He can barely remember he killed a man less than an hour ago.

That’s old news, unimportant compared to how your walls flutter around him as he pulls out. Unimportant compared to the arch of your back, the rock of your breasts, the great gasps of air.

He’s not a kind man, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be an asshole to his conquests – so he lets you get used to the rolling rhythm of his hips, slowly. He doesn’t piston his hips in and out of you, not at first. He lets the slow drag of his cock on your sensitive inner walls make you shiver, make you gasp and moan and whimper. And only after he’s earned the light hump of your hips against his, searching for the sensation yourself, does he let himself fuck you the way he wants to.

He wants to record the moan-squeak-whimper of surprise as he begins to pump his hips in earnest. It’s a noise he’s heard before, but coming from your pretty mouth it seems all the more potent. His hips jerk into you and out of you, the noise of skin slapping against skin very loud in the bedroom. The slick noises of his cock driving in and out of your tight cunt would be shaming if it didn’t feel so good, if you didn’t get a shock of want every time his body ground against your clit on the inner thrust.

You lose track of time, with the dangerous man you met at the bar bent over you. He mouths greedily at your lips, seeming to treasure every noise you make and swallow it down his throat like a sweet candy – he bites at your neck, at your throat, the grip on your thighs never faltering for a moment. You can do nothing but let yourself be folded in half, and let him fuck you like an animal.

That seems right. He’s rutting into you deep and hungrily, almost feral in his enjoyment of your body. He drops one of your legs suddenly, letting it hit the mattress, readjusting his hips so that one of his hands can dive between you and--

He’s playing with your clit again. The pads of his fingers are rough, and you wonder if he handles a gun like the one that gave him that starburst scar. You wonder how dangerous these fingers are, the ones that were buried inside you and are now coaxing your poor, swollen clit to another orgasm.

“Come on, baby girl,” he growls, pressing harder, making your thighs jump with tension. “Wanna feel you come with my cock buried in that pretty little cunt--”

You whimper, throwing your head to the side and letting a cry out into the pillow like a mewl. Toji would be mad that you’d stifled the cute little noise, if the sight of you submissively showing him your neck (one of your softest parts) hadn’t scratched an itch for dominance inside of him – and if the feel of your body clenching and pulsating around his cock wasn’t currently finally pushing him over the edge, making him judder his hips against you as he shoots rope after rope of his come directly inside of you.

Your shoulders are heaving with the effort of the orgasm that’s still ricocheting through you, your toes curling, your body clenching and soaking Toji’s cock with your orgasm. You don’t even realise he’s come inside of you until he pulls out slightly and you wince at the feel of that same come, his load far too thick and full to not have a bit of it trickling out of your stretched hole. Toji admires the look of it; darkened from his persistent thrusts, your syrupy slick mixing with the thick pearly white of his seed.

“Y-you came inside me,” you say, your voice half-clogged with the tears that are still glistening on your cheeks (a low pulse of heat in his groin. His refractory period has always been short – and with a cute little thing like you in his bed, who can blame him for wanting to fuck you again almost immediately?). “I—I don’t even know your name--”

Oh, shit. He’d quite forgotten. He knows yours from the girl in the bar (that already feels like a lifetime ago). He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, the kind of confusion that seems to say ‘good girls don’t do this, I would never do this, who is this stranger wearing my skin with a man’s come making their thighs sticky?’. It’s part of the process of breaking that Toji loves so much.)

“Sure did, darlin’,” he says, absent-mindedly scooping some of the come that’s oozed out of you and pressing it back inside. He wins a whimper for that, one that’s definitely not ‘stop’. “You’re still so sensitive.”

If you notice he doesn’t give you his name in response to your question, you don’t say anything. As his fingers gently circle your entrance again, as his hand brushes your thigh and you shiver, he sees that you unconsciously spread your legs even further apart for his explorations. Oh, you’re so cute.

One lone finger, gently grazing your clit, makes your hips jerk, your voice break in a way that’s all needy. You look at Toji through those tear-darkened eyes, your lips bitten to puffiness, your lipstick and mascara and eyeliner all messed up on your face from crying and biting your lip and drooling. Adorable. Girls like you always look best like this, their polish scuffed when Toji’s taken them to bed and stripped away all of their defences.

Girls like you, Toji always manages to get to move their hips against his ministrations. He always manages to have them gasp, whimper, break--

You’re not the first one in his bed, and you probably won’t be the last. But as he grins at you and asks;

“Well, sweetheart. I’ll give you a choice. Y’wanna take a shower and I’ll call you a cab or somethin’ and you can head off home? Or,” he drops his voice low, drags his eyes over your prone form, brushes his lips over your stomach. They flutter against the soft skin, his breath a hot wash that makes goose flesh prickle all over you. “Y’wanna spend the night?”

And you bite your lip before nodding, nervously running your hand through his hair, your body near trembling with need--

Well. As he asks that and you answer, he really does think you might be his favourite one ever.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji smut #not sfw #writing #jjk writing #jjk posting #Anonymous

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Black House (Eddie Munson x reader)

Wordcount: 5005 Summary: You go into the city looking for adventure. You end up finding a familiar face - and a Corroded Coffin. Notes: SPOILER FREE; Swearing

Hawkins, Indiana. The town where you didn’t really need a car to get around, but you needed one if you wanted to do anything even remotely interesting - like leave the city limits and go to a city. Anywhere but Hawkins, especially after the mall had spectacularly gone up in flames. Local businesses, yay, excitement, nil. So, as soon as you were done with your shift at the arcade on Friday night, you’d climb into your beat up car that used to be your dad’s until you turned sixteen, sometimes picking up some friends but usually going on your own, and follow the lights of the city outwards. There was always a feeling of exhilaration as you would have the windows down, music blaring loud, surrounding yourself with all of the pretty lights, all the chatter and noise of an actual population, not just a handful of rednecks.

You parked off of a side street and strolled on down the sidewalk, feeling the sidewalk beneath your feet and a song in your heart. You walked to the beat of it, speeding up or slowing down depending on the tempo. You didn’t know exactly what you were looking for, but you knew that you would find it eventually. You usually did.

But you weren’t expecting to find something so familiar on the street corner. That head of hair could be recognized anywhere. Plenty of people, including yourself sometimes, had pretty big hair but it was nothing compared to the mop-top that Eddie Munson sported. The jacket, the ripped jeans. The city held a lot of punks and rockers but after spending so much time with him in high school, before you graduated, you knew that awkward, gangly walk anywhere.

“Well howdy-ho there,” You said, finally noticing as you got closer that he was holding a bunch of papers. “What the fuck are you doing here, Munson?”

He took in the sight of you, looking a little grumpy at it. You couldn’t blame him. You never were friends - just acquaintances. Lab partners in a science class in which he had nearly burned the whole school down. Any chance of friendship seemed like it ended when your life was put in danger. All because he was stubborn and didn’t listen to you - which is probably why he was still at Hawkins High. His eyes flickered from your Docs up to your hair, and he held the papers close to his chest.

“Nothin’,” He said, looking around to see if there was anyone else walking by. An older lady shuffled and gave those papers a look, and then towards Eddie’s outfit and scoffed, walking a little faster. “Well maybe I didn’t want to give you one, lady,” He called after her, making you laugh.

“Come on, lemme see,” You said, trying to reach for one from behind him but he moved too quickly, stepping one foot out onto the step.

“None of your business,” He said, though you could see a smirk starting to grow on his face. He was starting to have fun, it was written all right there in his expression. So you started to have a little fun yourself. You tried to reach for another one of the flyers but he spun out of the way and jumped right up on the sidewalk. It turned into a game. You’d try to get one and he just wouldn’t let you. Maybe it was all of those tricks that he did in D&D, the dramatics of it all, but Eddie had moves. At one point, he even hopped up onto a lamp post and did a spin around it to keep them out of your grasp. It was impressive - but it put an end to the game. Three of the sheets fell onto the ground and you snatched one up before it fell into a puddle.

“Corroded Coffin, playing tonight,” You read aloud. “Set starts at ten. Are you really out here giving out flyers for your band?”

“What else would I be doing?” He scoffed, raising an eyebrow, falling back down to the ground now that the cat-and-mouse flyer game was over.

“I don’t know, practicing?” You asked. “You’re the lead guitarist right, don’t you have a drummer or a bassist to be doing this kind of thing?”

He started to laugh at that, and I found it wasn’t as obnoxious as I remembered it being. “Now - how do you know that I’m the guitarist?” He asked, curiously. A teenage girl walked by and he handed out a flyer to her, which she took but kept on walking. She crumpled it up and threw it out, which made me whistle out loud - phwoah, that was harsh. You folded yours up and slipped it into your back pocket so it was sticking out.

“It was all you talked about back in chem,” You chuckled, remembering. “Guitar this, guitar that. Cool that you got a band together and you’re putting on gigs. Are you any good?” You reached for a flyer again, and this time he let you - so you took half of the stack. “First rule of advertising, sex sells.”

“Well, shit, I didn’t know I was going to get a whole marketing team,” Eddie said, watching you, scratching at his lower lip. It gave you a good view of how many rings that he wore on those fingers of his. “Good enough to get a paying gig for once,” He said, curiously. “What are you doing?”

And what were you doing? It was a good question. You tended to customize your clothes as much as you could, since you got them from thrift stores and they usually weren’t the ideal size. So you took the scissors and cut out a neck-collar here, some sleeves there, turning pants into shorts when they were too long, adding patches of different fabric to make a whole new look and voila. It usually worked out. But it also meant that a lot of the hemlines were cut off, such as the one around the neck of the shirt that you were wearing now, so you ripped it a little more, bringing it into more of a V-Neck. Showing off a bit of the chest.

“Did you not just hear me?” You asked, and let your eyes skim over the poster again, taking in the location and the time. You looked back up and spotted a guy walking down the street, his hair all spiked out in liberty spikes. You didn’t get that in Hawkins. You took a couple of steps backwards to approach him, catch his eye. “Hey. Kickass show tonight at the Black House. See you there?”

“Yeah, fucking rad,” The guy said, taking one of the flyers from your pack, obviously looked at your chest, and then continued walking on. You grinned and stepped back over to Eddie.

“Fucking rad,” You repeated the punk’s words. “But congrazzles, a paid gig, that’s pretty big. Anyone we know we going to be there?”

He was trying not to look at your cleavage. You could tell, which was kinda sweet of him. “Just the boys, the rest of my band,” He said, nodding, pulling you out of the way as an old man that you hadn’t seen went shuffling by. Look at Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munsen, being kind to the elderly. “Did you want to come?”

“Can’t think of much else that I’d rather do on a Friday night than see a show,” You admitted. You weren’t willing to admit to your rather lonely habit of just browsing what was going on and assimilating to it somehow. Eddie, with all of his non-conformity, probably wouldn’t get it. “Finally get to see if you live up to your own hype.”

“That’s - a -” He said, banging his head, his hair flying all over the place. “-definitely!”

“Save some of that energy for the stage, man,” You laughed. “I’m tough to impress.”

He must have been storing up all that energy for tonight. You couldn’t remember him fidgeting so much in class but maybe that was exactly what had caused the blow-up in the first place. He was handing out flyers and striking conversations. He knew a couple of the local metalheads that walked by and stroke up a conversation. You handed out flyers as well, advising anyone and everyone to come out to the show if they wanted to have a real good time. Sex sells - but it doesn’t always deliver, at the very least, you weren’t. But you managed to get rid of the bunch of flyers pretty quickly, even walking up and down the streets, removing other posters that were taped to walls, and using that same tape to put the new flyers up. Maybe it was a little bit vandalism but it was also punk as heck. Then time began to come down to the close and you followed him towards the bar where they were playing tonight.

The Black House.

It was exactly what it sounded like. Right there, in an Indiana city, situated in the seedier part of downtown, was a black monstrosity of a house. With the right paint job, it could have looked nice but there were rumors that the builder went through a bad depression and that’s why everything - the windows, the door, the walls, the roof, the columns, all of it was painted in the darkest black paint one could get from the hardware store. And after the owner offed himself, it was bought up and converted into a bar, and then they added on a stage and it became one of the go-to places for the ‘alternative crowd’ in town. You were impressed that Eddie had managed to get a gig here. A paying gig at that.

“I should get going in the back, meeting the rest of the guys there,” Eddie said, throwing a hand over his shoulder to point to the thin passageway that lead to the back of the venue. You could just see a familiar dark van parked behind there. He’d start to take those couple of steps while you tried to figure out where the end of the line was. “You coming?’

“I was going to get in line,” You said, furrowing your brows.

“Come on, you’re with the band now - marketing team,” He said, licking his lips ever so slightly, allowing himself just the littlest glance, trying not to be obvious, but you caught on. He held out a hand to you, all of those heavy rings somehow not weighing it down. You shrugged and then took it, allowing yourself to be lead to the back.

“Oh, look at me, getting in without paying the cover, how do you think The Black House will ever cope?” You joked, catching eyes with one of the guys that you knew was in Eddie’s little crew. The Hellfire Club. They had actually approached you about joining in your Junior year, when you and Eddie were in the same grade, before he got held back again and again. But you liked having your free time away from most people, so you had said a big fat no. High school was a time full of regrets, even though you had graduated two years ago, and honestly, saying no to some of those clubs was one of them. Maybe you wouldn’t be alone on a Friday night if you actually put yourself out there.

But you weren’t alone anymore. “Hey, remember y/n?” Eddie said, bringing you around to the guys as they were loading the last of the equipment on a dolly to be pushed inside. “Gareth, Jeff,” And then a little grin, “Sloth.”

The guys laughed among themselves at the name of one of their members, who just rolled his eyes and ignored the lot of us, pushing in the drumkit. “Long time no see,” You said, but paused while looking at Gareth. “Except for you. You come around the arcade a lot.”

“Mortal Kombat champion of Hawkins - at least until that Max person came around,” He said with a smile. He went to help ‘Sloth’ push in the drums and then Eddie dragged you in along behind them. He was still holding your hand. He seemed to notice at the same time that you did and he let go, your arm dropping back to your side. “So what are you doing back here?” Gareth ended up asking.

“Y/N is Corroded Coffin’s head of marketing now,” Eddie said with raised brows. You grinned widely at that. Even if he was joking, which you were positive that he was, it was still a step up from being the person that watched over the arcade. “So they get free entry.”

“That’s a better benefit than dental,” You laughed, and attempted to move out of the way of the incoming instruments. You didn’t know much about all of the tech stuff behind it all, but watched as they set it all up, got it all together. Mostly Eddie though. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch his guitar, he was very adamant about that. He was the one who carried it fro the van into the venue, he was the one who plugged it into all of the amps and other equipment. He was the one who tuned it, even as people started to come in, heading to the bar after paying the cover and finding places to sit and stand, talk to their friends. This might be a paid gig but they still had to do their own heavy lifting, that was amusing. “Anything I can help with?”

“Nope, just stand back and enjoy.... the magic,” Eddie said, pausing to bow and then went back to tuning.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab a drink and find a good spot to rock out. I’m sure the view is great from side stage but the best part of a show is usually the mosh pit.”

“That - is fair,” Eddie said, looking like he was going to say something. You gave him a pat on the shoulder for good luck, a grin at the guys and then hopped off of the stage onto the ground and headed to the bar. A flash of a fake ID and you had a beer in your hand. It wasn’t cold, but it tasted fine just the same. You chugged it down in preparation, gave the bottle back and then found a spot right up against the stage. There were no barriers for safety, anyone could go on up and dive right into the crowd if they wanted. You were even thinking of doing that yourself. You rested your folded arms across it, watching as Eddie kept shaking his hair out of his face, getting himself ready. You were situated right in front of him while others were gathering around the microphone. Vocalists did tend to interact with the crowd more but you were here for Eddie of all people. This was not at all how you saw your night going when you left the arcade and got into your car this evening.

Finally things were all set up and the show began. And Eddie - was - magnificent. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, he didn’t do well in things that he wasn’t passionate about so obviously he was putting that energy elsewhere. He was shredding that thing, even with his fucking RINGS on. That was what was so incredible about it. The dexterity. That was a guy who knows how to use his fingers, you thought with a smirk.

They had the crowd going too. You saw a couple of people that you had handed flyers to. The guy with the spiky hair. He pointed at you and you pointed back at him and you both shared a laugh. You did eventually get pulled into the mosh pit, the sound of Eddie’s guitar all surrounding, but you didn’t mind. You could throw down with the best of them. You pushed your way back up to the stage though and climbed up upon it, all by yourself. Eddie made eye contact with you as you stood right in front of him. He even gave you a wink, which was surprising for shy Eddie. For being such a metal head, he really did have more of a complicated personality than you thought. You thrust your arms out like you were making yourself into a cross and fell backwards into the crowd, only to get picked up by the people below you and carried along. Yeah, you got groped a little bit but it wasn’t that big of a deal. They were respectful for the most part. You got put down at the back of the crowd and returned to the bar, getting a second beer. The night still felt young.

Corroded Coffin finished up their set to a lot of applause from the audience. You were among them, sticking your pinkies into your mouth and whistling. They all said their goodnights and started to pack up the equipment. You stayed up against the bar, happiness and enjoyment clear on your face. There were even calls of encore and you could see from Eddie’s expression that he liked that a lot. He sought you out in the crowd and you winked right back at him. He stared for a couple of seconds until Jeff called his attention away and they wheeled their stuff off. The second band had roadies to set their own stuff up, and it was only once it was apparent that they weren’t coming back on did the calls of encore quiet down.

Music played through the speakers. Black Sabbath, it sounded like. Yeah, you knew Ozzy’s voice. You nodded your head to the beat, wondering who the second band was. You hadn’t even got past Corroded Coffin on the flyer, you were just so happy for them that they got something like this. The fucking Black House. And here came Eddie now, walking through the crowd, heading over to you. He looked like he was on Cloud Nine. Lighter than air. He came in next to you and ordered a beer.

“No beer bottles thrown,” You said, putting an index finger against the bar. “And no tomatoes? I’d say that’s pretty good for a first paid gig.”

He laughed and put his arms around himself, looking bashful. It was sweet looking. You weren’t sure exactly what prodded into doing this but you leaned forward and put a kiss on his cheek just as the beer was set down in front of him. He just kept grinning at you, looking like he thought that he was the luckiest guy in the world. He brought up that beer and took a sip, nearly choking on it because he couldn’t actually get his mouth to close because of that grin. You grabbed him a napkin, chuckling softly to yourself.

“Oh, shit, you know what’s better than one paid gig?” He asked, giving you an idea as to what had made him look so happy.

“Oh shit,” You said, your eyes growing wide.

“Three more. The Black House booked us up for three more gigs over the next couple of months. Corroded Coffin is making it, baby, wooo!” He slapped down on the bar, raising his voice in that excited way he used to do in the cafeteria. “So uhh - keep your calendar clear, Marketing Manager.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to make me pass out flyers? Am I getting paid for this?"

“What?” Eddie asked, his eyes going wide. “If you want to, yeah, but you’re also like - a fucking good luck charm. We got three more gigs because you’re here. Because you and your...” As respectfully as he could, he pointed over your outfit. The still ripped up V that showed cleavage that he was trying to avoid ogling. “Three more fucking gigs. I can’t believe it.”

“It’s a good night for Corroded Coffin,” You said, watching as he took a sip of his beer. His hair was clinging onto his forehead, the usual shagginess turning into something looser, something stringier from the sweat. It was a cute look for him. You wondered what he would look like if you straightened it all out. but that was a question for another time. “Are you going to stick around for the other bands?” You asked, looking for the other three guys.

“They’re stuck until I drive ‘em home,” Eddie said with a big grin. “They’re outside having a smoke. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline but I think I’m going to stay and rock out. You with me?”

You pretended to think it over for a minute, but then you thrust your fist up in the air, devil horns over your head. “Ready to fucking rock!” You smiled, and then stuck your tongue out. He was all for that response, replicating it perfectly. As the next two bands came and went, you were among the crowd, head banging and being pushed around, pushing others. When things got a bit too rough during the headliner, Eddie just stood in front of you and crouched down. “What are you doing?” You asked, thinking he was about to get trampled.

“Just get on, Marketer,” He said, and you laughed at the new nickname. It was horrible. It wasn’t catchy at all and yet you still had the feeling that it was going to stick. You climbed on, hesitantly. It took him a moment to balance your weight but he managed. Those arms underneath his jacket were surprisingly strong. From toting around that guitar maybe? Or the weight of all of those D&D campaigns that he used to come up with? Who knows. But he was holding you and nothing could get at you from the sides or in front. You were reaching up and the singer even reached for your hand, touching it lightly, making you whoop and holler at the attention. It felt - really funny. Really freeing. You hadn’t been to a concert in a while and you’d forgotten how fun they can be.

The show winded down, the encore was finished and the lights all around the Dark House lit up, though it was hard to tell exactly. A lot of the paint on the walls seemed to absorb it, making it appear to be so bleak in here. But the energy was still high, even as people were trickling out. Eddie was still carrying you on his back, giving you a spin as you went out through the back doors and back into the open Indiana air, making you laugh and hold on tighter. The other three members of his band were standing around outside of the van, drinking beers which they had gotten someone to smuggle outside for them. “Good show?” Gareth asked, noticing how enthused you and Eddie still were.

“Fuckin metal,” You laughed, sliding off of Eddie’s back and reached the ground. You’d been up for so long, you almost forgot how to stand, having to still lean against him for support. “And you guys - wow - Corroded Coffin shot up to the top of my favorites list - let me know when you guys have t-shirts.”

“T-shirts!” Gareth and Jeff said at the same time like it hadn’t occurred to them.

“That’s why y/n is our marketing genius,” Eddie grinned proudly. “You need a ride back to Hawkins?”

You thought about saying yes, just to prolong the night. Eddie was looking cute as hell right then. The big eyes. The messy hair. Even with sweat making it stick to his skin. You licked your lips so tempted. Your mouth went before your brain could catch up. “Only if you can arrange a ride for me tomorrow to come pick up my car.”

“I can bring you back,” He said with a grin, thumb tapping at his lower lip. “You’ve had a whole beer, I don’t know if you’re safe to drive.” The cheeky man, knowing that he had the same amount.

“Maybe you’re right,” You said. Your car should be safe - a parking ticket at worst but you could usually talk your way out of those by annoying the cops until they just give it up.

“Alright, let’s fucking goooo!” Eddie said, hitting the side of his van. “Y/N get shotgun.”

“What? No way!” The one that was jokingly referred to as Sloth protested. But you played along, beating him to the passenger side door and climbing in, claiming it by putting on your seatbelt. He grumbled and got into the back with the other two boys and all of the equipment.

You were all riding that post-concert high. The guys were all complimenting each other on things that they had done, on a really impressive drumstick flip, on Eddie’s solos, on the way that one or two people even sang along with their songs like they knew them, actually knew them. The excitement of the upcoming gigs, more paid ones, what they were going to spend the money on. You were enthused with them, pointing out the awesome things that you noticed, compliments all around.

The three boys got dropped off at Gareth’s house since it was the first one that could be reached upon getting into town, the closest to the outskirts. Then you had to guide Eddie towards your place, where you still lived with your parents, unfortunately. The noisy van pulled up really close to the curb.

“Well, tonight had been unexpected,” You admitted. “But probably the best night I’ve had in a while. Who would have thought?”

“And who would have thought that y/n y/l/n had good taste in music?” He retorted right back, lighting up a cigarette.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your body to face him while your hand went for the handle. “What do you think I listened to?”

“I don’t know - Blondie?”

“Fuck you,” You laughed, all while knowing full well that you did indeed have a Blondie tape in your collection. “My favorite band was Black Sabbath, actually.”

“Was?” Eddie asked, growing very interested in the specific word. He leaned forward, the curls on his forehead touching your own. “So what’s it now?”

“Corroded fucking Coffin, you dingus,” You laughed, pushing open the door behind you. “You think you can rope me into working at a marketing person for some crap band? Please.”

“Ohh - I can’t tell if you’re trying to flatter me into giving you a raise or if you’re really speaking my language, y/n,” Eddie said with a big grin on his face. “I’m glad I ran into you, actually. Surprisingly. There’s a band meeting next weekend over at Gareth’s house, do you know where it is?”

“I think I can figure it out. Am I officially part of the band now?”

“Crew, at the very least.”

“Awesome. I can be there.”

“I was hoping you can do better than can,” He said, keeping that grin on. You smirked, because that grin was becoming more and more irresistible by the second. You couldn’t help yourself. You always were the impulsive sort - like helping out an acquaintance in handing out flyers for a band that you didn’t know was good or not. You leaned in forward and popped a kiss on top of those very nice lips. That grin disappeared real quick, turning into a quick look of surprise. As you backed away to try to see it better, to start laughing, his calloused fingers wrapped around your chin and pulled you back in. It turns out, he was as passionate a kisser as he was a guitarist.

Tongues flickered together. The taste of beer was still very apparent between you two. It tasted amazing. And finally, when he let you go, you had that taste lingering on your tongue for a couple of moments afterwards.

“Okay, I’ll definitely be there,” You breathed out with a smile. “Besides, you’ve still got to take me to get my car tomorrow, remember?”

“Thank fuck,” He said with a little groan. You backed yourself out of the car and saw the way that he tried to subtly adjust himself in the tight pants that he was wearing. Now that was more than a little flattering. You met his eyes and smiled, and he seemed to blush just a little bit. “G’night, y/n.”

“Get home safe, Munson.”

You closed the door and started to walk up the driveway to the front door. Your parents wouldn’t have waited up for you, you weren’t a child anymore. So you did have to dig the keys out of your pockets and put them in the front door. As it clicked open, you realized just how silent the street was, and looked over your shoulder to see the jet black van still loitering in front of your house. Eddie held up a hand as another wave. You shook your head with a laugh, and waved back before finally going inside. It was only then that Eddie seemed to leave, the tires making an obnoxious squealing sound against the concrete as he got out of there in a very Munson fashion. He’d been making sure that you got in alright, the fucking cutie pie.

Although you tried your best to avoid the cliche moments, this one had to happen. You had your back to the door and you allowed yourself to slide down it, the smile on your face, the taste of alcohol on your lips, ears still ringing from the concert and the music that he played loud on the drive back to Hawkins.

And you would get to do it over again tomorrow. A ride back to the city. Maybe you could talk Eddie into going out for lunch or going record shopping, looking through tapes, trying to find something good. You felt like squealing but it would wake up your parents so you kept it to yourself -

- saving it for the next Corroded Coffin show.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson oneshot #Stranger Things #Stranger Things oneshot #x read #onesho #one shot #nonrequest #eddiem

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emeren · 4 years ago

Text

such a tease - eren jaeger

👗 anon request <3

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4k

content warnings: 18+, smut, choking, degradation, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness

notes: this was an anonymous request and lemme just say, i was SO excited to write this one. i’m unfortunately not super happy with how it turned out, but i’ve been swamped bc school just started back up!

SUMMARY: reader decides to tease eren by wearing a skirt without any underwear for the day, causing her very jealous boyfriend to act out in an unexpected way.

one look in the mirror was all it took for you to quell your nerves. your fingers ran over the expanse of the pleated skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles and creases. this was bold, even for you, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

eren had never been particularly shy about his protective nature; he was always making sure people understood you were his girlfriend, wrapping his arm around your waist or glaring at men who stared a little too long.

you loved that about him, but you loved pushing his buttons even more. he had a bad habit of being an argumentative, hot headed little shit, and teasing him like this was asking for some rough, animalistic gesture. that was exactly what you wanted.

you’d never neglected to wear underwear in a skirt this short, the fabric stopping just below your ass. you knew you’d have to be careful or you would end up flashing jean or armin, and that would drive eren up a wall.

you hoped eren wouldn’t notice until you were all out; meaning there would be nothing he could do about it. teasing him was one of your favorite things to do.

you heard your phone buzz quietly from your bed, picking up the small device and seeing eren’s name at the top.

lil shit <3: get ur ass out here we’ve been waiting forever

the eye roll that naturally came to you was strong, giving yourself one final once over in the mirror before heading out of your apartment. you couldn’t help the nervous smile that teased at your lips once you left the building, connie’s beat up minivan sitting at the curb. riding in his car was never the first choice; it was musty and had suspicious stains on the carpeting, but it was the only one that fit all of your friends.

connie laid on the horn as soon as he saw you, the rest of your friends yelling from inside the vehicle as you approached. you could see jean in the passenger seat, jogging up to the rear door with a knot of nervousness in your stomach. you placed one hand on your thigh to keep the skirt from riding up as you slid the van door open.

sasha and mikasa were stuffed in the small backseat, armin and eren sitting in the middle row. it was comical to see eren in the spot generally reserved for the smallest passenger, but you had no doubt that he wanted to sit in the middle because of you. he was petty like that - a trait that made teasing him all the more fun.

“hey guys,” you smiled, sliding into the van as your friends all greeted you at once. your eyes were on connie, who was craning his neck to give you a rather incredulous look.

you felt eren stiffen as you sat down, reaching for the seatbelt. connie decided to speak up before you had a chance to question it. “dude, come ooooon. what the hell took you so long?”

“sorry, i was distracted and my phone was on my bed,” you explained, connie resolutely rolling his eyes in response.

“let’s go already, i’m starving!” sasha wailed from the back, shaking your seat in front of her. you giggled at her desperation, finally turning to your boyfriend as connie sped away from the curb.

you were surprised to see that eren was already staring at you, a weird glint in his eyes. you gave him a smile, trying to act innocent. “hi.”

he didn’t say anything, just looked forward and placed his large hand on your bare thigh. it wasn’t that it was unusual for him to do so in front of your friends, in fact it was normal. you just weren’t used to him placing it so high; so high that the tip of his pinky dipped beneath the fabric of your skirt and threatened to inch towards the apex of your leg.

had he already noticed?

“took you awhile to get ready,” eren commented, his words only being heard by you as everyone else in the car chatted about going bowling. you glanced back up at him, eyes scanning his face. he was wearing a black t-shirt and sweats, the customary ‘i don’t care about anything’ outfit he always seemed to adorn. the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger did little to ease your nerves.

“yeah, i was just thinking about some stuff and got distracted,” you lied, smiling up at him. he was looking at you from the side of his eyes, jaw clenched.

“really?” he breathed, his hand shifting ever so slightly up your leg. his smallest finger teased at the crease of your thigh, head leaning down to whisper in your ear. “were you thinking about some stuff or were you forgetting about some stuff?”

your breath hitched, face growing hot as you struggled for something to say. connie, once again, beat you to the punch. “oi! lovebirds! no canoodling in my back seat!”

“we weren’t canoodling,” eren sneered, pulling away and moving his hand to just above your knee. he squeezed the skin generously, your slight embarrassment about eren’s public displays of affection quickly wearing off. “i was just saying, it looks like she forgot a coat.”

jean snorted from the front seat. “yeah and because you’re a dumbass who doesn’t wear one either, i’m gonna have to give her mine later.”

jean’s lighthearted words lit a devious lightbulb in your mind, the gears of your plan now in full swing. you leaned forwards, wrapping your arms around the back of the chair and consequently jean’s broad chest. you leaned your head to the side, a grin on your face.

“you really are too sweet to me, jean-jean!” you cooed, the feeling of eren’s grip tightening on your thigh an indication of just how well this was working in your favor. jean chuckled at the familiar nickname, hand coming up to pat your arms wrapped around him.

you let go and slid back into your spot, eren’s face clearly peeved at your display of affection. for once, you had the upper hand. and you were going to milk it all the way.

the local bowling alley was a small, dank building that prided itself on its catering towards college students without much else to do. as connie skidded to a stop in his self-designated parking spot, the legacy of the building seemed to live up to its expectations.

eren hadn’t said anything else on the ride over, just kept his hand protectively (and respectfully) placed on your lower thigh. you were much more careful sliding out of the car this time, hand blatantly coming down to cover your ass. you knew that eren was watching you, as he was quick to follow you from the vehicle and stand behind your brazen figure.

he wrapped his arms lazily around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head as you waited for your friends to pile out of the car. you’d grown accustomed to his touchy nature, suddenly deciding to press your ass against his groin. the gesture was small, but you could feel eren’s dick harden within his pants.

“careful!” he hissed, hopping back in an attempt to shake away his sudden erection. you snickered to yourself, giving him a glance over your shoulder as you followed your friends into the building.

the interior was the same as it’d always been; drowned out with black lights and the smell of wax. it was the kind of atmosphere that reminded you of your earliest days of childhood; attending large birthday parties and eating way too much cheaply made cake.

the attendant was a short man named george, one who’d acknowledged connie’s arrival with annoyance.

“head to our usual lane guys,” connie pointed, a grin on his features. you all made your way towards lane ten, eren in a sulking tow behind you.

as everyone began to sit down, jean motioned for you to sit next to him. “each side will be opposing teams. we’ve gotta be on the same team, per usual.” he called innocently.

you and jean had dominated your friend group bowling tournaments each time before, and you figured this would be no different. you started towards him, surprised when you felt eren’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“she’s going to be on my team this time, if you don’t mind,” eren stated in a quipped tone, something that would normally go undetected by jean due to their frenemy behavior. you knew that eren’s words were coming from a place of jealousy, sincerely trying to hide your sadistic grin.

jean scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah, right, jaeger. she’s going to be on connie and i’s team, like always.”

you nodded your head in agreement, spinning to face your boyfriend. your skirt lifted ever so slightly at the action, eren’s teal eyes snapping to the garment with an annoyed perseverance. “don’t worry, i’ll take it easy on you.”

he knew what you were doing. he knew that the thought of a part of you - a part specifically reserved for him - nearly on display for anyone who cared enough to pay attention, was enough to fill him with a primal sense of possessiveness.

eren had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions. in fact, he’d been known to let them consume him in an embarrassingly juvenile way. as you sat down next to jean, your bare leg bumping his, eren couldn’t suppress the annoyance that washed over him. he folded his arms, the thought of your tight little-

“eren?” armin called out, eren snapping from his lewd thought process. you took notice, leaning down to tie your bowling shoes. “did you hear me? i said here’s your shoes.”

you listened to eren clear his throat and apologize, deciding to chat with jean and connie as everyone got ready to play.

the final straw in your plan hadn’t even happened on purpose. it’d come to you itself, as if the powers that be were purposefully trying to get you rammed into oblivion. it came after the first few rounds of bowling, after a few near misses with jean regarding the skirt, each one sinking eren further into his foul mood. it came in the form of a lanky, awkward looking employee.

he couldn’t have been any older than eighteen, carrying sasha’s order of nacho fries and your coca cola. he’d meant his comment to be nice as you got up to grab your drink. he hadn’t meant to say something that would send your childish boyfriend over the edge.

“oh, uh, i like your skirt,” he’d commented awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. you smiled politely in response, eyes flitting over to eren. and if looks could kill, that awkward teenage boy would’ve been dead on sight.

eren’s eyebrows were furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. you felt your cheeks heat as he made eye contact with the boy, standing from his seat. eren was tall, looming behind you as he protectively wrapped himself around your figure.

“thanks,” he said flatly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. you held your breath at the feeling of eren deeply exhaling against the sensitive skin, large hands squeezing your hips. the boy quickly looked at the ground, nodding before deciding to leave. eren waited until he was gone to remove himself from you, an annoyed twitch in his eye. “fucking little pervert.”

you rolled your eyes, taking a generous swig from your coke. “he was just being nice.”

eren glared at you, watching as you started back towards your friends. “nice my ass. i know you’re doing this just to rile me up.”

“what ever do you mean?” you snickered, purposefully swaying your hips as eren scoffed, plopping back down in his seat.

you made your way over to your teammates, sitting down and watching armin finish his turn. a couple minutes went by, chugging your coke and getting ready for connie to take his turn.

“i think i’m gonna go use the bathroom,” you hummed, jean nodding his head in understanding. you waited until connie tossed the bowling ball down the lane, effectively missing all of the pins. you knew you’d drank the soda way too fast, standing from the bench and making your way towards the dimly lit restrooms.

they were dark inside, with red lighting like something out of a sex club. you pushed the heavy door open, quickly locking it behind you and relieving yourself.

as you washed your hands in the sink, you thought about just how riled up eren was getting. it was humorous, in more ways than one, but you couldn’t help the slight guilt that crept up the back of your neck about your actions.

but then again, it wasn’t like eren wasn’t known himself for being a tease. you couldn’t count the number of times where he’d purposefully made you jealous or grabbed your ass in an inopportune moment. so what was the harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine?

you flattened your hands against the skirt, making sure it was straight before unlocking the door and heaving it open, stepping out into the dark hallway.

you jumped back at the appearance of a dark figure leaning against the wall, defensively clutching your chest as you stood in front of your slightly amused boyfriend.

“mind if we chat?” he asked, voice edging an emotion that you knew you couldn’t get into at the moment. your eyes glanced down the end of the hallway, no one in sight. you looked back to him, his pink lips turned upwards, the word ‘gotcha’ written all over his face.

“we should probably head back out there,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way eren was sizing you up. he just smiled, pushing himself from the wall and taking a step towards you. all of the confidence you’d had in your teasing flew out the window, swallowing at the downfall of your plan.

“don’t worry. i told ‘em my mom was calling,” he purred in response, index finger coming up to gently trace against your jaw. it was his turn to be smug; everyone in your friend group knew that carla’s phone calls were a draw out, lengthy affair. he’d trapped you.

you held your breath as he stepped forward, slowly tilting your jaw to place a deceivingly sweet kiss to the skin. you felt embarrassed at the way your cunt throbbed at the action, his lips moving to tease the shell of your ear. “but what about me?”

“what about you?” eren sneered, his voice turning slightly sour, fingers roughly gripping your jaw as he placed a kiss right below your ear. “this is what you were asking for, wasn’t it? now be a good girl and go back into the bathroom for me.”

you hesitated for a moment, thinking about your friends bowling a mere 100 feet away. eren’s eyes were dark, and the churning you could feel at the pit of your stomach was only making it harder to resist.

all it took was the thought of eren bending you over the sink, fucking you stupid for you to demurely shift in place, turning to shove the bathroom door open once again. you could feel your neck burning at the thought of how easily you’d just submitted, but you wanted this. more than anything.

the bathroom was no desirable place; it smelled like generic soap and had discarded pieces of toilet paper on the ground. eren didn’t seem to care, gingerly locking the door behind himself before roughly shoving you forward facing against the cool, knock off linoleum countertop.

you could feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, your reflections in the dirty mirror lit under the red lightbulbs. he was commanding; aggressively grinding himself into you, your skirt beginning to ride up at the motion.

eren made eye contact with you in the glass, one hand coming forward to tilt your neck to the side. he slowly brought his lips down, peppering the skin till his mouth met the base of your neck. he made sure you were watching as he pressed his tongue flatly against the skin, your breath hitching as you watched him drag the wet muscle up to your jawline.

“you’re such a tease,” he growled against you, rolling his hips into your ass. you could feel your skirt starting to ride up even more, the cold air uncomfortable. “’s’hot, knowing your pretty little cunt is so exposed.”

his hand on your jaw slipped around your throat, squeezing lightly in warning as he flipped the edge of your skirt up.

you squeaked as his other hand snaked between your legs, middle two fingers slowly sliding themselves between your already soaking center. he rubbed at your clit, breath hot against your neck as he forced you to watch him through the mirror.

“look at how pretty you are,” he mumbled as he plunged his two digits inside of you, the sudden sensation causing a gasp to leave your lips. he wasn’t playing nice; roughly digging his fingers all the way to the last knuckle. his other hand squeezed your throat tighter. it hurt, but you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched around him, chest tightening. “so pretty for me. n’only me.”

he slowed his fingers, pumping in and out of you, the sound of your slick causing him to grow impossibly harder. the feeling of his cock pressed against the flesh of your ass sent another throb to your cunt, eren smirking in response.

“needy for my cock after teasing all day?” he asked, stuffing his fingers particularly deep, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. you struggled to nod your head against his grasp, the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you at such a rhythmic pace causing you to grind your hips against his hand and subsequently his cock.

he quickly pulled his fingers out from inside of you, hand growing tighter around your throat. “you were such a little whore today. a little whore who needs to learn a thing or two.”

you could feel tears prickling in your eyes, eren’s hand that was wrapped around your throat coming up to pry your mouth open. you didn’t have a chance to react before he was slipping his sheen coated fingers past your lips, the saccharine flavor hitting your tastebuds.

“suck for me, pretty girl,” he said lowly, hooded eyes watching you in the mirror. you did as you were told, wrapping your lips around his knuckles and swirling your tongue around his fingers. the taste wasn’t completely pleasant or unpleasant, your mouth releasing with a smack.

eren pressed down on your tongue with his fingers, saliva filling your mouth before he dragged the two digits down your chin and throat, leaving a shiny trail in their wake.

he brought his hands down to roughly grope your chest, your own hands pressing against the countertop to keep you steady. eren gripped the hem of your sweater, forcing the fabric up to your midsection.

“off, take it off.” he demanded, leaning back from you but still keeping his groin pressed against your ass. you were quick to oblige, pulling it over your head. as you did so, you could feel eren palming your ass under the skirt, his dark eyes fixated on the sight of your little skirt riding up on your skin.

you dropped the sweater to the ground, knowing you’d regret it later, but you couldn’t be bothered. eren didn’t wait, letting go of your ass to unclasp your bra, the undergarment falling into the empty sink. he palmed at your newly exposed breasts, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

he was watching you in the mirror, the sight of you batting your eyelashes with your saliva on your chin only making him more possessive. it sent a twitch to his cock, hands releasing from your chest to shove you against the cold glass.

“want me to show this pretty cunt who it belongs to, hm?” eren nearly growled, the thought of jean or that employee ever being lucky enough to see you like this pushing him over the edge.

you tried to nod against the mirror, your breasts pressed against the cold material only aiding the way your center throbbed mercilessly for whatever eren was about to do. his hand came up to fist your hair, the other haphazardly yanking down his sweats and boxers.

you could see his veiny cock slap against his stomach through the mirror, the tingling in your clit multiplying at the sight of it. eren smirked at your staring.

“fuck,” he hissed, his gaze drawn to your skirt pooled around your waist, glistening center ready for him to abuse. and he couldn’t wait any longer, rubbing the tip of his cock between your legs.

a gasp ripped through your throat at just how deeply eren thrusted into you, his hips hitting your ass with a loud smack. it hurt; his brows furrowed as he completely pulled out from you, just to ram himself back inside your tight cunt.

“what’s wrong?” eren asked breathlessly, pounding into you as hard as he could. you were jerking against the mirror, mouth open as your nose began to tingle; a tell-tale sign of tears. your boyfriend had a sadistic smile on his face, a piece of hair falling from his bun to rest against his forehead.

“ah- hurts,” you gasped out, the sound of eren pounding into you filling the small space. eren hit you with a particularly deep angled thrust, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. he tightly fisted your hair, yanking on the follicles as hit other hand gripped your waist for better leverage. it hurt so bad, but so good.

“look at you, look at you take my cock like this,” he said, voice gravelly as he began to buck his hips faster. you could feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, eren’s hand around your waist moving to guide your knee up onto the counter top for better leverage. the pain lessened with his movement, his animalistic thrusts growing pleasurable. “such a good little whore. a little whore who’ll only let me fuck her like this, hm?”

you moaned out against the glass, eren yanking your hair as an indication for a worded response. “yes-yes. all for you, only you.”

eren groaned out at your words, his head leaning back as he slammed into you from behind. he was blurry as your breath fogged the glass, but just the image of him bucking his cock deep within your throbbing cunt was enough to have you seeing stars.

he was filling you up so nice, pressing himself against you as the veins in his arms grew prominent. you could feel him twitching inside of you, your own center clenching around him as he made sure you knew you were his.

“such a little tease, showing off her pretty little cunt like that,” eren moaned out, shamelessly loud. he buried himself within you, your eyes rolling back in your head as the building anticipation between your legs became too much to bear.

“eren-” you heaved, him quickening his pace, hitting your cervix over and over. it was enough to make the tears come back, your vision becoming hot white as he bucked his hips once more, stuffing his cock impossibly deep within you. your orgasm didn’t reach its climax until you felt eren’s length twitch, effectively filling you with his cum.

the high was incredible; the cold mirror a stark contrast to the hot, burning sensation as eren thrusted out his own climax.

the two of you stood for a moment, mirror foggy and bathroom humid as you recollected your composure. when eren did pull out, he watched his cum slowly drip down your thigh, fingers attempting to stuff it back inside of you.

“don’t let it drip out,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your sweaty cheek. you could only roll your eyes, peeling yourself from the glass. he gingerly pulled his pants back up, delivering a swift swat to your ass as he stood straight again.

“y’know, you should wear skirts more often.”

“you should get jealous more often.”

“sounds like a deal to me.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yeager #eren yaeger x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #eren #eren jäger #emmy writes #👗 anon

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miraculouscontent · 3 years ago

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Hi, Adrien is handed things on a silver platter whereas Marinette has to work for them.

First thing’s first is just the concept of the love square. Chat Noir gets to interact with Ladybug no matter what because they’re heroes. Ladybug - who carries the weight and responsibility of heroism without getting benefited from it - is required to go to every battle due to her purification ability, and Chat Noir of course is going to show up because he loves both flirting with Ladybug and the freedom of being a superhero.

In addition, Adrien got his miraculous by helping Master Fu up (something that would be expected out of any semi-decent person; by the way, yes, I know the “””significance””” of the action, and it’s silly), whereas Marinette saved him from being hit by a car.

Adrien was allowed back in school with still no explanation from Gabriel (especially since he’s Hawk Moth) as to why he thought it was a good idea to send his son to a school where the very first akumatization had happened. It was Adrien’s goal for the episode alongside making friends, and Nino offered him friendship out of pity when Adrien sulked about how Chloe was the closest thing to a friend he had.

Chat crushes on Ladybug because she stood up to Hawk Moth in a speech dripping with confidence, caught what seemed like hundreds of akuma, and came up with a plan quick enough to save Mylene and Ivan from falling to their deaths from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Marinette (who Chat fell in love with one side of first, mind you, so already this is to his benefit), meanwhile, crushes on Adrien because the narrative gave her a falsehood about him never having any friends (i.e: no Chloe) and he gave her an umbrella while he was ten meters away from his actual ride (like with Fu, again, any decent person--).

Chat’s crush on Ladybug makes things harder for her because it causes him to throw tantrums mid-battle, get distracted and distract her because he’s busy flirting, all of which make her feel guilty for not returning his feelings. Marinette’s crush on Adrien makes things hard for her again because it causes her to embarrass herself while virtually everyone who knows teases/mocks her for it, their opinions of her even being dragged down due to the crush (see Alya with the Lila situation).

Chat is shipped with Ladybug by Parisians everywhere and Alya delighted in taking a picture of them kissing (that got posted on the Ladyblog without Ladybug’s consent). Likewise, the other LadyNoir kiss (that Ladybug had to do to free Chat from Dark Cupid’s control) was shown on live TV for all watching to see. Marinette’s kisses with Adrien, however, were either wiped from the timeline (in which Adrien got to keep a secret from her so he could date “””Ladybug”””) or used to humiliate her because Adrien was attempting a prank.

Ladybug realizes that Chat is in serious about her, not because he told her himself, but because he relayed it to Marinette who happened to be Ladybug. Marinette, on the other hand, has spent 3+ seasons attempting to confess her feelings to Adrien or make advances on him, all of which ended in some form of failure and some of which through no fault of her own.

Chloe shoved her in “Bubbler” (Adrien didn’t even check on her) and then Nathalie crushed the note she’d written on a scarf that Marinette put tons of time and effort into, leading to Adrien thinking it was from his dad.

“Copycat” was accidental and came on too strong, requiring its deletion.

She got distracted by Alya and forgot to write her name in “Dark Cupid,” her letter only further solidifying Chat’s crush on Ladybug.

She kept getting interrupted in “Gamer” after Alya chided her for using the event to get with Adrien (despite Alya doing the same thing for Marinette during the film in “Horrificator” while Mylene was MIA).

She wasn’t able to tell Adrien about Lila’s thievery in “Volpina” because the grimoire had to remain a secret.

The hat in “A Christmas Special” got given away within minutes and then not even brought back on-screen by Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien never even thanked Marinette personally for it).

Kagami came out of nowhere to take the fencing spot in “Riposte.”

Deciding not to make schemes only led to her embarrassment in “Gigantitan.”

She got made fun of and the notes all conveniently looked the same in “Backwarder,” leading to her mixing them up.

The macaron for Adrien (that Marinette would prepare every week) never got eaten by him and ended up causing the akuma after Chloe had emotionally manipulated Marinette into scheming with her.

Practicing on a statue (as per Tikki’s advice) in “The Puppeteer 2″ humiliated her when Adrien revealed himself as the statue.

She was embarrassed during the party in “Party Crasher” because she was pressured into dancing without her consent.

The timeline had to be reset in “Chat Blanc” and she had to lie to her friends that she hadn’t given Adrien the gift even though she’d actually succeeded, while the hat she made just for Adrien got written off as a gift from a random fan (which is an even worse fate than the scarf).

The confession in “Felix” was deleted by Felix himself before Adrien could see it.

And Adrien, meanwhile? Ohhhh boy, lemme tell you about Adrien.

He gets put into suggestive/close positions with Ladybug on many, many occasions, all for “free.”

He got a kiss from Ladybug in “Dark Cupid” that, remember, got photographed and put on live TV.

He got to goad the audience without consequence about he and Ladybug potentially being in a relationship eventually - gaining the knowledge that all of Paris was invested in LadyNoir to thoroughly stroke his ego - and then Ladybug had to act like they were a couple in “Prime Queen” to the point of holding Chat’s hand and saying that they were in love.

Likewise, “Glaciator” featured Ladybug having to act like a couple with him again, now to the point of kissing his cheek, and then Chat got a blush from her after he’d spent a good chunk of the akuma battle pouting that Ladybug didn’t come to the date he set up (that she hadn’t even known was a date because he purposefully withheld that information) despite her telling him that she’d have to see about it because she had plans.

He was reassured in “Anansi” on being “irreplaceable” after he made an unnecessary comment about being replaced by a turtle (Carapace).

He got to carry Ladybug around bridal style and also save her in “Sandboy” and “Reverser” respectively because she was rendered essentially useless without him, then got to save her again in “Frozer” after giving her the cold shoulder for rejecting his feelings.

He’s the one who got told by Marinette’s own parent not to apologize for how he feels in “Weredad” (note that Marinette herself never got this talk from Sabine, nor Tom, which very much could’ve prevented “Crocoduel”).

He got a cheek kiss from Ladybug in “Desperada” after getting to undo the very-much-against-the-rules identity reveal he made to her via Second Chance.

He got to look good in “Gamer 2.0″ when Ladybug was seeking advice from him despite the fact that her and Chat’s situations hero-wise are absolutely, completely, 100% different and he didn’t even try to take that into account.

He got Ladybug resting her head on his shoulder because of what she saw in a deleted time in which he - unbeknownst to her - lied by omission.

A fake Ladybug tried to kiss him on two separate occasions, “The Puppeteer 2″ and “Ladybug,” much to his delight (something to note is that the fake Adrien who went after Ladybug in both “Chameleon” and “Felix” tried to force themselves on her).

He got the “jealousy” moment from Ladybug in “Heart Hunter” and then a hug from Aquabug in “Miracle Queen.”

He received no repercussions for taking Ladybug out on a date (that she wasn’t aware was going to be a date) in “Gang of Secrets,” at best having to apologize for her behavior to the people around them.

He got reassured that Ladybug “couldn’t do this without him” in “Guiltrip,” even to the point of being told that she “probably doesn’t tell him enough.”

He got told by Ladybug that she would never abandon him in “Hack-San” because he was guilting her sulking about how his not knowing her identity would mean that he’d never see her again if she left him somehow.

And before you think this only extends to the romantic aspects of love square, let me tell you now that it definitely doesn’t.

Marinette entered the bowler hat competition and had to defend her own work to the judge.

She ran for class representative and had to earn the trust and faith of her class in “Darkblade” when put up against Chloe’s bribery.

She did whatever she could to make sure Juleka got her picture taken in “Reflekta.”

She had to actually craft a pair of glasses suitable for Jagged Stone in “Pixelator” and then make a gorgeous album cover for him in “Guitar Villain.” (note that this partially led to “Troublemaker” where she was just happily wanting to advertise her parents’ business, and the writers multiplied her Adrien pictures for the sake humiliating her when it was caught on live TV)

She had to work to get ungrounded by improving her attendance in “Simon Says,” because she had been busy being a hero.

She worked to try and get Nathaniel and Marc to get together on a project, knowing it would be good for both of them.

She set up an entire celebration for her bully to try and make said bully feel good about herself in “Malediktator.”

She did Kitty Section’s designs and costumes in “Silencer” and then had to go protect them from being stolen, along with her friends’ music.

She had to wear multiple miraculouses in “Kwamibuster” in order to go against Kwamibuster and get back both the ladybug earrings and the cat ring.

“Gamer 2.0.” Just... “Gamer 2.0.″

She made a whole complex lockbox to protect the Miracle Box in “Gang of Secrets.”

She worked to reach out to Zoe in “Sole Crusher” even after Zoe trashed her in front of the school, going as far as to try and comfort Zoe’s akumatized form.

She had to stand up for the movie to be fixed in “Queen Banana” because no one else would.

She has to work each and every akuma battle as Ladybug, figuring out Lucky Charms that can range from simple to complicated, while simultaneously dealing with a partner who relies heavily on her plans and will occasionally make things harder by either throwing tantrums mid-battle or distracting her.

And meanwhile...

Chat Noir got to throw the blame onto Ladybug for Theo’s akumatization in “Copycat.”

Marinette covered for him in “The Collector” when he was the one who recklessly lost the grimoire by not being careful with it.

He got handed Fu’s identity in “Syren” after whining to Ladybug, throwing blame on her and trying to bribe Plagg so they’d tell him, threatening to quit while Paris was underwater, and all of this while Marinette herself only got to meet Fu because she had the grimoire on her.

He was given the moral high ground in “Malediktator” despite not having to actually care about Chloe enough to call/check on her.

He got to sit back in “Chameleon” and not concern himself with judgment or comment on the situation with Lila, even going into “Ladybug” where he continues to inform no one about Lila (including Marinette, who briefly believed that Lila came to her senses and was willing to make amends) after Lila got Marinette expelled, despite the complete lack of risk on his part considering who his father is and how harshly Lila would be dragged through the mud if she dared to trash his reputation.

He clumsily trips in “Captain Hardrock” in a fashion that reveals an instrument he happens to play, leading to him getting invited to join Kitty Section within seconds of being on the Liberty. (so when Adrien is clumsy, it’s to his benefit, and when Marinette is clumsy, it’s to her detriment)

He never got called out for distracting Ladybug and digging for details that could relate to her identity in “Kwamibuster” (which, again, forced Marinette to do all the work to fix things).

He got a party thrown for him in “Party Crasher” by Nino, and also guys that Adrien had never put forth effort into interacting with or befriending (Marinette had also been through more with all of them sans Nino).

He got to force Ladybug’s favorite traits of his out of her in “Truth” because she was under the influence of Truth’s powers.

He got off the hook for sacrificing himself in “Lies” by flirting about Ladybug’s “irresistible angry little pout,” and also never got repercussions for flirting with another girl while dating Kagami.

He never had to face consequences for smashing a chimney in “Sentibubbler,” even as he was dismissing the gesture because he knew Miraculous Ladybug would fix it.

He didn’t have to apologize for his behavior in “Hack-San,” whereas Ladybug "had to” for telling someone else her identity (the details of why - i.e: that she was having a mental breakdown and needed a release from it - being completely left out) and not telling him that she was leaving (when she literally hadn’t had time to tell him anything; do note as well that Adrien didn’t have to do the same in either “Backwarder” or “Startrain”).

He received no consequences and was in fact rewarded for allowing the akuma in “Wishmaker” to hit him, a choice that Viperion has to live with because it caused him to see both Ladybug and Chat’s identities (meaning now Luka - someone who, like the guys in “Party Crasher” - Adrien has done virtually nothing for - can support Adrien since he knows).

And I could go on, I really could, but my point is that Adrien is given all of the sympathy and sad points while Marinette basically never is. Just like how he was born swimming in money, fame, and adoring fans, the show hands out praises and all the things he’s ever wanted because he’s sad.

He doesn’t have to try. He can whine and complain and vent to Plagg about how “replaceable” he is because the show will mollycoddle him to the moon and back. They’ll put his crush on Ladybug’s shoulders to make her feel guilty while Marinette is over here having to bust her butt just for a chance at Adrien recognizing any semblance of her feelings, and he goes on being blissfully ignorant of them so he doesn’t have to suffer like Ladybug does.

In addition, Marinette has to either be “““making mistakes”““ or embarrassing herself in order to get screen time because the burden of lessons fails upon her, whereas Adrien can be name-dropped without even doing anything.

It’s not just the love square that’s unbalanced, it’s everything between these two. Ladybug is scolded and punished for the slightest act of selfishness while Adrien is encouraged and rewarded for being selfish and demanding things. Marinette has to work to be noticed (and sometimes won’t even get that much) while all Adrien has to do is put on his best sad face and the show will bend over backwards to either give him exactly what he wants or make him the sympathetic one through the narrative.

Even if Adrien had known about Marinette’s crush at the time that Ladybug knew about Chat’s, it wouldn’t matter, because the tipped scales in how they’re treated would still make it so Marinette is the one at fault for “dumping her feelings onto Adrien” while Ladybug is still forced to interact with Chat even if his advances make her uncomfortable.

#((It's a good day to choose violence.))#category: salt #salt: adrien agreste #salt: chat noir #salt: love square #((I probably should've done this in video format.))

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kelieah · 4 years ago

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Tom taking care of a tired and frustrated you, like him cuddling u or showering u with kisses or practically babying you n eventually u fall asleep in his lap with your head in his neck n he carries u to bed, just very fluffy fluffy!! 💙

just us (tom holland x reader)

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fluuffff, mentions of sex, language, tom being a div

edited: kind of a shitty ending, and kinda rushed agh, sorry

a/n: love this ideaaa, just going to somehow tie in the reader’s birthday into this hehe

tom holland masterlist

Last year, Tom planned a big birthday party for you, inviting your friends, his friends, coworkers, and family. It was crazy. Personally, you hated being in the spotlight so although you appreciated his efforts, you didn’t enjoy yourself as much as you wanted to. So this year, you’ve been trying hard to avoid the topic of plans for your birthday. You also really hoped no one would plan a surprise birthday party.

You wake up to the sight of Tom walking into your bedroom, with a stack of pancakes and a candle in the middle. His face is painted with excitement and warmth, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “Happy birthday, sleepyhead,” he whispers and sits down next to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You smile tiredly and look at the plate of food, tearing up at how cutely decorated it is. “Tommy,” you sniffle and pout at him.

“Oh, baby,” he laughs and places the plate aside, pulling you into his arms.

After he picked you up and brought you to the kitchen to eat breakfast, the two of you began to get ready for the day. You let out a quiet sigh as you smoothed down your dress against your body, your mind swirling with thoughts about whether or not you should be honest to Tom about the big parties and all.

“I heard that sigh,” you hear Tom come up from behind you and snake his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder and glances at you in the mirror, “Are you okay?”

You nod and place your hands on top of his, swaying with him as he hugs you close. “Perfectly okay.”

“I’ve known you for how many years?” he asks rhetorically and raises an eyebrow for dramatic effect. Accepting your silence as an answer, he nods and confirms it himself, “Right, five years and you think I don’t know you well? I’m honestly offended love.”

“Shut up,” you groan and tilt your head back, looking up at him as he gazes down at you. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I have a feeling I know what’s upsetting you,” he brings his hands down to your waist and squeezes it.

“Well, then what is it?” you huff.

“I actually didn’t know I was just bluffing to see if you’re really upset,” he admits sheepishly as you gape at him. “Now I know! Babe, what’s wrong?” he holds up his hands in defeat and lets go of you.

You grumble quietly at the loss of his touch and shrug, turning to face him. “I was joking. I’m just tired.”

“You slept for ten hours,” he points out.

You send him a glare, “Because you fucked me all day yesterday.”

“Valid point,” he nods and purses his lips, laughing as you groan loudly with frustration. He follows you as you rush off to your bedroom, “Darling, you know I’m only teasing. Come on, it’s your birthday. I want you to be able to do whatever you want to do. If you want to sleep all day, so be it.”

“Oh really?” you amuse and turn back around while plopping down onto your mattress.

“Yes, really,” he stands in front of you, holding out his hands for you to grasp.

Reluctantly, you hold his hands and look into his eyes, noticing how he is desperately trying to read you. “I’m sorry,” you bring your lips to the back of his hand. “I really am tired, but it’s no excuse to be a bitch.”

“You’re not being a bit—”

“In all honesty, I just really am not looking forward to having a big party.”

“Who said we’re doing that?” he interrupts causing you to give him a deadpanned stare.

“I know you well too. It’s not much of a surprise when I can hear you planning in the closet. You’re not that sly, Holland,” you feel a smirk grow onto your lips.

He scoffs, still trying to dismiss your accusations. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honey, if you don’t wanna have a big party or a party at all, we don’t have to. Like I said, we can do whatever you want. Even if you just want the entire to yourself, just let me know,” he lifts you up and pulls you close to him.

You eye him suspiciously and drape your arms over his shoulders, “So, you’re basically telling me now that there’s no big surprise party being prepared this minute?”

“Nope,” he smiles at you confidently and tucks a hair behind your ear. “Your day is free.”

You feel all the weights lift off your shoulder and you let out a quiet satisfied sigh. You lean your forehead against his chest and press your lips together. “I just want to spend the day with you and you only. Well, maybe a bunch of food too, but you know. Just us.”

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckles lightly and presses a long, tender kiss on the top of your head. “That sounds perfect, how about we go for lunch or order in. Watch some movies, maybe go to the park and when the sun settles, we could cook a meal together? Then maybe take a bath together, drink some wine, have some fun, and then sleep?” he plans out the rest of the day in one sentence and you tear up at the thought.

“That sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you,” you bring your head back up to meet his face and peck his lips.

“Always, I’ll go grab the keys?” he smiles and kisses you a bit longer, cupping the side of your face.

“Mhm, lemme go grab my coat and stuff.”

And you two did exactly what he planned, all the way to have some fun that results in the both of you not sleeping, yet.

“So much for a bath,” you stifle a laugh, sitting down on the side of the tub as your legs tremble from the previous activities.

He grins and goes down on his knees, wiping you dry. “Hey, nothing wrong with having the fun a little bit earlier.”

“Mm, true. But now I’m really tired,” you slip on the pajamas he hands you.

He puts on his boxers and laughs in response, “I bet. Wanna be carried to bed?”

You nod eagerly and hold out your arms, “Yes, please.”

He kisses your forehead and swoops you up easily, bringing you towards the bed you both share. He places you down and slides in next to you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.

You shift around to get comfortable and soon drape your leg over his, your hand also resting on his bare chest. “Thank you, for today,” you murmur lazily, drawing gentle shapes into his skin. He hums quietly and caresses your skin as well, dragging his hand along your shoulders to your jaw.

“Always, just talk to me next time. Okay? Don’t want you wallowing in self-doubt and stuff,” he whispers and cups your face to kiss you all over repeatedly.

You giggle and nod in agreement, then turning around to become the smaller spoon. He smiles and inhales your addicting scent, feeling himself becoming drowsy and tired. He eventually falls asleep and before you could, you hear his phone go off on your bedside, the light brightening up the room a bit. You sit up slightly to glance over and make sure it’s nothing important, but your jaw drops once you see the messages from Harrison.

‘How was your day mate?’

‘We were able to cancel the reservation and tell everyone who was invited about the last minute change of plans’

‘All of her gifts are at my place though.... so figure that out too lol’

‘Pretty sure your busy ;)’

‘But seriously text or call me back when you can div, the caterers just dropped off all the food that was ordered at my place’

‘It’s like a bloody mall in here’

You let out a quiet gasp as you read the messages and eventually slide back into Tom’s embrace, knowing damn well you were right from the very beginning.

inbox link under the cut! thanks for reading ツ

leave a comment, give me some feedback pls! it’s greatly appreciated mwah

tagging some mutuals! @sunsetholland @peterssweetpea @ptersmj @evermoreholland @marvelouspeterparker @supremethunda @emmastarz @parkerpeter2469-blog @felicityparkers @spideyspeaches @hollandcrush @ms-misery @msmarvelsmain @heavenlyholland @veryholland @greenorangevioletgrass @spidey-sophie

#kelly's long reads #kelly's inbox #ms-misery #marvel #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland request

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bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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Youtuber Sukuna pt3

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life! I never thought youtuber sukuna would be so popular, so thank you everyone for giving me encouragement to continue this lil series. This will be the final part, but who’s to say we can’t have an OVA episode?? I smell a beach episode...or maybe a trip to an onsen? Who knows!

Part one --- part two

This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It certainly felt like it. Scrolling on Pinterest was the last thing he wanted to do, in fact it was something he openly mocked in the past, but now per your advice, he was looking at thousands of photos of home decor.

Sukuna was hesitant to admit to you that he had no furniture in his home. After seeing how well decorated and lived in your home was, it only made his shame increase at being a grown man with foldable furniture. But you took it in stride and offered to help, even making him share a Pinterest board with you so the two of you could get inspiration for a shopping trip.

That’s how he found himself at IKEA on a bright and early Saturday morning. You’d begged him to let you come shopping with him, and Sukuna was a man unable to refuse any request you made of him.

“Ah, this is going to be so exciting!” You shouted, nearly running to the carts at the front of the store. You were clearly more excited than he was, your energy seemed to know no bounds as you bounced on your heels and waited for him to trudge to the front door.

“What’s so exciting about furniture?” He grumbled, subconsciously taking the cart from your hands. Pushing into the store, Sukuna felt like he had been transported to another world. With staged living quarters that looked more real than his own home, he was at a loss for words.

“Sukuna, c’mere!” You were already ten paces ahead, standing at the entrance to one said fake home. Coming upon it, Sukuna nearly gagged at the color palette. There were bright orange tufted couches with a blue area rug and more pillows than he had owned his whole life. With white accents and gunmetal colored lamps, it looked far too much for him.

“It’s ugly.” He said, not caring about the other people around you that seemed to enjoy it.

“Really?” Taking another look around, you shrugged your shoulders and took a step back. “You’re right, it doesn’t really fit your whole vibe.”

That was definitely correct. If Sukuna had to give a name to his personal style it would be ‘who the fuck cares as long as it works’. He wasn’t one to dwell on his looks for too long, just content grabbing clothes that were easily accessible and trendy, ones that he knew would help him fit in. And that habit had bled into his furniture choice as well.

“Okay, you seemed to pin a lot of pictures that look like this-” Leaning over, he watched you scroll past picture after picture of what almost looked like the same thing, a living room with dark colored couches, a white rug and dark colored walls, almost always with a metal or dark wooden coffee table.

“Yeah, it fits me.” Wandering through the store, Sukuna glanced at an all white room with a window frame encasing a faux view of a city lit up at night. “None of this shit.” He made a vague gesture to the room, and the one following it that looked similar.

“You don’t want any bright colors at all?”

“My hair’s already pink, what more do you want?” That made you snort and giggle, and in turn made Sukuna smile.

“Okay but you can’t just have all black furniture, it’ll make your house feel like a dungeon.” Your hand came to rest on the handle of the shopping cart, dangerously close to laying on top of his. “Promise we’ll get at least a little color today? Maybe a yellow, or a pink to match your hair.”

“S-sure.” Sukuna couldn’t look at anything except for your hand. Your pinky finger was just barely touching his, almost enough that Sukuna could slide his hand under yours and interlace your fingers together.

“Ooh, what about this for your bedroom?” And just like that, you were gone. Dashing off to a display on the wall for bed sheets. “You said you only have a plain white one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about this? This design is really trendy right now.” You were pointing to one that was a deep navy, white grid lines crossing over to make big squares.

“I like it.”

“Awesome! Now, do you have a queen or a king bed?”

After picking out the bed sheets, Sukuna slowly opened up more to the idea of shopping. He was able to recognize pieces he’d seen on Pinterest, picking them out as things he readily liked and would enjoy looking at in his house. He was even persuaded to get a few area rugs for different places in his house, and before he knew it you had piled the basket high with things.

“Ah, today was so much fun!” You sang, bouncing in your seat on the way home from IKEA.

“Now I just need to build all this shit.” Sukuna was amazed at how much you’d convinced him to buy. He had new furniture for his bedroom, a new couch was going to be delivered, a dining table and chairs and even a new desk and chair for his office setup in the corner of his living room.

“Lemme help!” You looked far too eager to help him build, and although Sukuna wanted to tell you no - he really didn’t want you to see how he was currently living - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his house with him, working together on something.

“Alright. Let’s stop somewhere and get food though, I’m hungry.”

One quick fast food meal that Sukuna loathed later, you were carrying things up to his apartment. He refused to let you carry the heavy things even if he could really use the help with some of the oblong boxes. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you carried the small things.

When everything was inside the house, Sukuna watched your reaction to his place. You hadn’t made a sound when you first arrived, you were probably too busy trying to bring everything in from his car.

“Sukuna…” Scanning his apartment, your eyes landed on his abysmal furniture.

“Yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut, dreading what you had to say.

“This is totally what I expected from you.” You laughed, unpacking some of the fake plants you made him buy. “It totally fits you.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding in, Sukuna grabbed one of the boxes containing his new desk.

“Let’s get started.”

If Sukuna thought cooking with you was hard, building furniture with you was the final boss level. He had you read the instructions while he laid all the pieces out, and when you let out a whine at how many steps there were, Sukuna could have died happily right then and there.

It was easy to build the furniture he bought, but it wasn’t easy to work with you. There was no problem with your actual work, but the fact that Sukuna had to be so close to you at times, nearly hugging you when he had to hold up a piece for you to put a few screws in, it was too much to handle.

He quickly banished you to work on another project. It was your fault he kept getting distracted and forgetting what step he was on, so the only solution was to work on separate things. Plus, watching you flit around his house, hearing you change the bed sheets and lay down a new mat in the bathroom made him feel like you were newlyweds decorating your first home together.

“It looks so good in here!” It was well past dark when you finished everything. It truly did look like a brand new space, and not just in the living room. The touches you’d added, with bright pillows, fake plants and some actual art on the walls, made Sukuna happy to be home. His place finally felt like a home and not just somewhere to crash at the end of the day.

“You did a great job picking shit out, I woulda never been able to do all this.” Putting his arm around your shoulder, he gave you a squeeze.

“Are you gonna do a house tour when the couch and table come?” A house tour? Why would he do that? Knitting his brows together, Sukuna sent you a look. “C’mon, you know what a house tour is! All the popular Youtubers do them.” You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. “And aren’t you a popular Youtuber?”

“I-” Well, you had him beat there. His subscriber count was well into the millions at this point. “Okay, I’ll do one when the rest of the stuff comes.”

“Yes!” Bouncing up and down in joy, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll help you film, I know how bad you are at angles.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better!”

In a week, you were back at his place, more excited than him to film this video. You’d helped prepare a little script should he need it, and you were fluffing all the pillows so they looked nice on camera.

“Let’s have an entryway shot, those always look so cool!”

“Whatever you say.” Sukuna was merely a puppet on your strings, maneuvering however you saw fit. He made his hands as steady as possible getting b-roll shots of everything in advance.

“If you forget what to say, remember I made a script!” With that final warning, you were standing at the entrance to his apartment and waving your hand. “Okay, start!”

“Hi people on the internet. This is my house tour that (Y/N) is making me do.”

“Shut up!” You laughed behind the camera, trying not to shake it.

“This is my kitchen and dining room, (Y/N) picked out the table and chairs for me.” Doing a sweep over the kitchen, he transitioned to the living room. “And this is the lounge room, where (Y/N) picked out the couch and rug, and my desk stuff over there.”

“Yeah, Sukuna had no rugs in his apartment before!”

“Mhmm.” Somehow Sukuna managed to not stumble over his words, easily recalling parts of the script you had written for him. Highlighting the fake plants and cheap art on the walls, the two of you stood in the bathroom together.

“Look, it’s us!” You waved to the camera in the mirror, nudging your shoulder with Sukuna. Suddenly, the image of getting ready in the morning with you or winding down after a long day together in the bath flashed before Sukunas eyes. What would it be like to come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and join you? Give you a shoulder massage under the hot running water, or to brush his teeth and tell you to hurry up and not waste water.

“And this is the bedroom.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, Sukuna hid his blush with his hand as he entered the room.

“Hold this.” Shoving the camera in his hands, you leapt onto the bed. “This is where I sleep!” Your laugh was easy and you rolled around his bed a few times, simply having fun wrinkling the sheets.

“Uh- w-wha-” Sukuna nearly dropped the camera in shock. Seeing you in his bed, even if it was just on top of the sheets fully clothed, made his heart stop. Gripping the camera hard in his suddenly sweaty hands, Sukuna nearly tossed it to the side and joined you.

“Just kidding!” You were already climbing out of bed as soon as that thought entered his head. “But isn’t this room pretty? I picked out most of the stuff in here too.” Just like that you were back to normal, talking about some random print on the wall that he’d ordered per your suggestion.

Needless to say, Sukuna had a hard time falling asleep that night, the image of you in his bed burned into his mind like it was the only thought he’d ever have again. His imagination was going wild, and he tossed and turned all night - even after relieving some tension.

With his new desk setup, Sukuna felt motivated to edit the video as fast as he could. What you said about improving his living quarters was true; now that his place looked nice, he felt nice in turn. He even left in the part where you jumped on his bed, adding a funny break in the video like you’d shown him.

‘IT’S CONFIRMED. IT’S CONFIRMED. THEY’RE DATING’

‘sirpohdjb my ship has sailed!!’

‘I come here to see why sukunax(Y/N) is trending and it’s this bullshit?? Y’all need to get a life’

Sukuna often felt like a fool when he was with you, and sometime after as well. Even from the first comment he left on your Instagram, he knew people shipped you together and wanted you to date. He felt embarrassed more times than not, but it seemed he never learned his lesson. That scene of you on his bed had gone viral and he regretted leaving it in.

But could you blame him? You made his head spin, most of the time leaving him incapable of doing anything else beside standing in his place looking stupid. It was hard to edit the videos you did together because reliving the footage made him dizzy all over again.

(Y/N): SUKUNA. ANSWER ME ITS URGENT

It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and Sukuna had nothing better to do than laze around and do nothing. Except now, he was texting you back with his heart suddenly pounding.

Sukuna: what?! Is something wrong where are you??

So much adrenaline was coursing through his body that he had started to shake.

(Y/N): I just got a great idea, I need to know if you’ll do a video with me!

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna said out loud, staring at his phone in disbelief. This is what was so urgent? Nearly sending him into an early grave for a possible video?

Sukuna: what the fuck I thought it was serious

Sukuna: I thought you were in trouble

He wasn’t upset per say, but Sukuna was definitely annoyed.

(Y/N): sorry :( i didn’t mean to scare you

Sukuna: you did more than scare me

(Y/N): I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!

Now Sukuna felt bad and it wasn’t even his fault. In all the time you’d known each other, you never had a negative interaction. He waited five minutes for you to text something, but you didn’t and it was making him anxious all over again.

Sukuna: well tell me what the idea is

(Y/N): no, it’s okay it was a stupid idea anyway

It took you another five minutes to respond, and your answer made Sukuna groan.

Sukuna: you got me all worked up and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?

He had to rectify the situation somehow.

(Y/N): I just thought...of maybe doing your makeup for a video?

Sukuna: what

(Y/N): I told you it was stupid! Just forget it

Sukuna: shut up it’s not stupid

As typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared, Sukuna could just imagine the way your cheeks puffed out indignantly.

(Y/N): here’s a link to someone else who did it with her boyfriend, they had so much fun together!

(Y/N): let me know if you wanna do it, I think it could be a lot of fun…

Sukuna only needed to look at the thumbnail to know he would say yes. The two people on the screen were very close, with the girl nearly touching her boyfriend's face with her own. They had big smiles on their faces as well, and that enticed him more.

Sukuna: I’ll do it

(Y/N): really?? That’s awesome! Come over to my place on Friday, we’ll order pizza and make a day of it!

And that’s how Sukuna found himself in your filming room, stomach full of pizza with a disgustingly cute green frog headband keeping his hair back. He’d seen this room a hundred times in the backgrounds of your videos, but now he was actually here. There were even more plushies than appeared on camera and you had a humidifier going in the corner.

“Okay now stay still, I’m going to wipe a toner on your face.” He had no idea what that meant, watching you with curious eyes pick up a bottle from the table in front of you and dab the liquid onto a cotton pad. “Usually I use my hands to apply toner, but we wanna wipe the dust off.”

With a gentle hand, you held Sukuna by the chin and swiped the cotton across his face, it’s soft chemical scent wafting into his nose. It felt nice, having you apply toner and moisturizer on his face. The most he ever applied was sunscreen, but maybe he could convince you to do his skincare for him every day.

“So today, I chose this makeup look by Beyoncés makeup artist! It’s a really popular style called ‘soft glam’.” Sukuna nodded along with you like he understood what you meant, taking a glance at the picture on your phone before you showed it to the camera. “I think Sukuna would really fit this kind of look, he is a natural beauty afterall.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, a light flush heating his cheeks.

“It’s true! There’s so many comments under your house tour video saying how good you look with the new furniture.” You spoke about the new makeup you bought for the video as you applied the products. Sukuna tried to keep up with what you were doing and saying, but he couldn’t really contribute anything to the conversation about makeup.

“Tuck your lips in so you don’t get foundation in your mouth.”

“What?” He jerked away right as you lifted the small dish you had with what he assumed was foundation.

“I don’t think you want to eat makeup, do you?” You chuckled and pat him on the cheek. “Tuck your lips in.” Doing as you asked, Sukuna flinched when you gripped the back of his head. “Try not to move too much, I want it to be even.”

As you applied the foundation and subsequently the concealer and powder, Sukuna barely moved. In fact, he barely breathed. You had leaned in far closer than you’ve ever been to him, your breath lightly fanning over his face as you worked to smooth everything out.

The hand on the back of his head dipped down to rest at the base of his neck, your body coming to lean more onto him as time went by. You were speaking, Sukuna could hear it, but he wasn’t responding. The excuse was he didn’t want to mess you up, but in truth he couldn’t find any words to say.

“Look at you!” Holding up a mirror for him, you laughed at his shocked face. “How do you like it?”

“I look so flat.” Turning his head side to side, Sukuna lifted a hand to touch his face.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up!” Snatching his hand away, you held it tightly in your grasp. Sukuna was thankful for the layer of makeup he had on now, no one could see his blush.

“What’s next? This eyeshadow shit?” He picked up a product on a whim, opening it up and staring at it. “Why’s there only two colors? Why are both of them brown?”

“That’s contour, we’ll get to that! This is the eyeshadow!”

Putting eyeshadow on Sukuna was harder than both of you thought. Not used to the feeling of the brush, he twitched every time it was swiped across his eyelid. Through plenty of trial and error, and many times of you telling him to just take a deep breath, you got through it.

“I’m gonna have to cut out so much of you flinching.” You teased, checking the camera to make sure everything was still working.

“I don’t get how you can do this shit, it’s fucking awful.” All Sukuna wanted to do was rub his eyes and face until his skin went raw.

“We aren’t even at the worst part yet: eyeliner.” Taking a seat, you lifted up a simple black pen.

“Oh god.” Hanging his head, Sukuna said a quick prayer for his eyes before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Sukuna, I gotta ask you something.”

“What is it?” Cracking an eye open, you were looking at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Can I...I need to sit in your lap to do eyeliner.” Sukuna audibly and quite loudly gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “When I help my friends with eyeliner I sit in their laps! It’s just easier that way!”

“I-I uhm- okay?” He eventually forced the word out, copying your movements and turning his chair to face yours. “What uh- what should I…?”

“Sit still.” Pulling your chair flush with his, you pushed Sukuna’s legs closed and scooted up his thighs until your butt was firmly seated on him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you uncapped the eyeliner. “There, now I can get started.”

Sukuna was in so much shock, he didn’t move. Even when the eyeliner tickled the inner corner of his eye, even when you moved his hands to rest near your lower back so you wouldn’t slide off, even when you did the bottom lashline, he was frozen.

If this is what heaven looked like for him, he would gladly take it and never leave. Your face was so close, he could feel it even when his eyes were closed. The soft skin of your hand held his powdered cheek gently, keeping yourself steady as you drew the lines on his eyes.

“All done.” You whispered. Sukuna opened his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat; your face was close enough that if he tried to focus too hard he’d go cross eyed. You weren’t paying attention to his reaction at all, too focused on making sure his eyes were even.

The rest of the time went by in a blur. You’d slid off his lap after that, diving right into putting more powders on his cheeks. Swiping thick gloss on his lips is what drew him out of his stupor and into another one as you once again held his chin, swiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb when you were done.

“Sukuna, you look so good!” You said with a slight whine, showing all angles of his face off to the camera before showing him. “You have to promise when you get rich and famous and become a global celebrity that you won’t forget about me.”

“Shut up, you know I won’t.” He said with a smirk, swiping the mirror from you. “(Y/N)...I look fucking hot.” Bursting into laughter, you wiped imaginary sweat off your brow.

“Well I guess I don’t have to ask how you like it!” Patting him on the back, you got up to stretch and check the camera one last time.

“Would you fuck me, ‘cause I’d fuck me.” Sukuna said to himself, striking a few poses in the mirror and for the camera. “Hey, you watching this video you better fucking share this with all your friends. Everyone needs to see how hot I am.”

“We should have ordered you some clothes, turned you into an Instagram baddie!” You teased from behind the camera.

“Please, I don’t need fancy clothes when I’m this sexy.” Running a hand through his hair, Sukuna pointed the mirror at you. “Be honest (Y/N), you wanna date me right now. I look so hot, I bet I’m gonna have thousands of DM’s.” Sukuna’s confidence was the highest it's ever been around you. For some reason, the makeup gave him more assurance.

“Well let me know when to schedule a date with you then, I’d love to grab dinner sometime.”

“I’ll have my assistant pencil you in.” He joked, looking back at himself in the mirror. Sitting back down, you ended the video and made Sukuna wave to the camera. Not turning off the lights you used to film, you made him snap several pictures with you.

“This video was so much fun, Sukuna, thank you!” Rocking back and forth in your seat, you had a demure look while you fiddled with your phone. “And I wasn’t joking about dinner. I really like you, Sukuna.” That made Sukuna stop in his tracks, nearly throwing the mirror down in shock as he turned to look at you.

“Huh?!”

“I-I mean- I mean I like hanging out with you!” Obviously embarrassed, you leaped from your seat and began turning the filming lights off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Both yours and Sukunas faces were burning with embarrassment, awkwardly not looking at each other.

“(Y/N)...” Sukuna half stood from his chair, forcing himself to move despite how awkward he felt. “I-”

“Let’s wash off that makeup now, I bet it’s uncomfortable.” Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you went to the door. “I’ll show you what to use in the bathroom.”

The tension in the air was thick after that, and it remained that way for a few days after. Sukuna knew what he heard, he saw how your face looked as you said you liked him, he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But it obviously wasn’t something you were ready to say, as evident as you not texting him as much as you usually did.

When the video went up, Sukuna immediately felt butterflies in his stomach all over again watching it. Reminded of how close you were to him made him ache to have you near him, and seeing you sitting on his lap had another feeling rising in his stomach, warming him up in an embarrassing way.

He patrolled the comments as usual, but there were no mean ones that he could yell at. All of them were screaming about how the video just confirms that the two of you are dating, and surprisingly they weren’t calling out him for looking like he was in love with you.

The comments teased you this time, keen longtime viewers of yours pointing out specific timestamps where you looked embarrassed or looked like you wanted to kiss him. Sukuna checked out every single one, liking the comment for showing him that what you said earlier wasn’t a mistake.

Ever since that day, it seemed like you were promoting on Instagram and Twitter a lot more. Sukuna already had notifications turned on for all your socials and there was a definite uptick in your content posted to those platforms.

There were more sponsored posts and polls posted asking your followers for style advice, and which beauty items they preferred more. Sukuna was happy to see you got an increase in brand deals from the video you did together, a video that had now easily reached five million views and counting. He congratulated you whenever he saw a sponsored post, sending you cute little emojis along with the praise.

All week you had been hinting that there was a big announcement coming, a major event in your life that you were so excited to share with everyone. Sukuna, along with all your other followers, ate up all the crumbs you left throughout the week. Many suspected you were going to go work for a designer label, while others assumed you’d announce a sudden marriage.

(Y/N): Sukuna, check Instagram!

You texted him in the evening on Friday, but he didn’t need the update. He was already on your page when the post was dropped, waiting impatiently for the picture to load.

“A TV show, huh?” As he read the promo photo, he smiled. Appearing on a TV show was a big opportunity for you, one that was sure to lead to many more. Your role wasn’t stated in the photo, but your promo picture was a professional one no doubt taken at a studio.

“Wait, what?” When Sukuna got to the caption, he took a pause. Why were you going on a dating show? He read the words over and over, hoping for a different outcome each time. But there was no denying you’d be going on a dating show.

Checking out the show's page, Sukuna let out a groan. All the male contestants were hot and not even he could deny it. Some had muscles like he did, others were more unconventionally attractive.

Sukuna: you’re going on a dating show?

It took him a while to text you back. In fact, it took nearly thirty minutes for him to text you. Sukuna had gone through all five stages of grief several times, coming back to being in denial over and over again.

Dragging his feet to his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine that one of his rich clients at the gym gifted him. Popping the cork, he collapsed onto his couch and took a long drink from the bottle.

(Y/N): yeah, I’m super nervous!

Sukuna: I bet

Oh, did he fucking bet. He’d gone through all the male contestants' Instagram pages, trying to talk them down in an attempt to lessen the blow that he could potentially lose you to one of them. Why did he have to wait so long to confess to you? Now the chance was gone, possibly forever.

(Y/N): what do you think about the show? I was kind of scared to take the deal

You didn’t want to know how he really felt.

Sukuna: it’s a great opportunity, great for exposure and it’s a lot of money

(Y/N): that’s true!! I’ll have to treat you to dinner with my first TV check!

Just great, a chance for you to gush about whoever you met on the dating show. Taking another long drink from the bottle, Sukuna crumpled even more into his couch. Back were the stages of grief, each emotion washing over him until he mustered up the courage to do something about it.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, confused as to why Sukuna called you instead of replying to your messages.

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name firmly, honing in on a spot in the ceiling. Swallowing around a growing lump in his throat, Sukuna forced the next words out. “I like you. I-I really, really like you.”

“What?” He could hear you gasp over the phone.

“I know, what kind of asshole confesses to you when you’re about to go on a TV dating show?” He chuckled, taking a deep breath. “But it’s true. I wanna be your boyfriend, (Y/N). I know it’s too late to back out of the show but-”

“Sukuna-”

“No, let me say this. I know it’s too late to back out, and-”

“Sukuna!”

“And I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone better suited-”

“Sukuna!”

“Better suited for you than me. I’m just a dumb, muscled up chump that-”

“Sukuna I’m a stylist, not a contestant!” You were finally able to get a word in, face flushed from the sudden onslaught of emotions going through you. Sukuna was silent on the other end, mouth hanging open as he processed the words.

“Y-you’re a...a stylist? So you won’t be dating any of them?” He whispered after a few moments, the shock starting to wear off and being replaced with humiliation.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the styling team.” Your voice also dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words beginning to settle down on the both of you.

“Oh god.” Putting the bottle down, Sukuna slapped himself in the forehead. He had never felt like a bigger idiot than in this moment. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, just- just forget it.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to forget it. I...I want you to be my boyfriend too, Sukuna.” There was a pregnant pause, and you could practically hear Sukuna’s brain working overdrive.

“Let’s go out on a date!” He shouted, pushing himself off the couch and to a shaky stand. “I’m free whenever, let’s go on a date!” The alcohol was definitely affecting him more than he first thought, and Sukuna fell back down onto the couch.

“Really? Okay, how about tomorrow? That’s like the only day with good weather for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Sleeping restlessly through the night, Sukuna woke up way earlier than his alarm. Taking an obscene amount of time getting ready, he was still early to your house. Taking a lap around the block, he went to a flower shop and bought you a handful of flowers.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, almost meek as you entered his car.

“Hey. I got you these.” Handing you the flowers, Sukuna bit his lip nervously.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Gently hugging them to your chest, your nerves began to melt away and you smiled, making Sukuna smile as well.

Sukuna once again had you pick the cafe you were going to. This one was in a bustling downtown street, not in the middle of the countryside, and as you two walked down the street there were couples passing you left and right.

Snagging an outdoor seat, Sukuna went inside to order for you. This cafe, unlike the last, actually served coffee and Sukuna was quick to get a large cup of it. Buying a few croissants cutely decorated with various creams, he went back outside.

“Say, you’re really cute, why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?” An unknown man was standing near your table, and Sukuna caught the tail end of his sentence.

“N-no, I’m good.” Your eyes were glued to your lap, obviously uncomfortable with the attention you were receiving.

“Aw, really? A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be all alone!” The man had a sleazy grin on his face, visibly eyeing you up in a salacious manner. “My name is-”

“Baby, who’s this guy?” Sukuna had had enough. Stepping right up to the table, he nearly slammed the tray in his hands down on the table. Your head shot up, relief flashing across your face.

“Who are you?” The man scoffed, curling his lip in disgust.

“I’m their boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” Puffing up his chest a little bit, Sukuna stared the man down.

“Boyfriend? They didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend.” The man attempted to look at you again, but Sukuna beat him to it and caught your eye instead.

“Geez baby, I know we had that fight before we came but I’m hurt! If I get rid of this creep, will you call me your boyfriend again?” Laying a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, Sukuna gave it a squeeze.

“Y-you’re always gonna be my boyfriend, dummy.”

“That just warms my heart!” Sighing loudly, Sukuna gave the man a not so subtle push away from the table. “Well, you heard ‘em. Get lost, you worthless sack of shit.” Grumbling, the man walked away and Sukuna took his rightful seat next to you.

“Thank you.” Immediately, you latched onto him, squeezing his arm in a tight hug as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Wrapping you up more tightly in a hug, Sukuna pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I would have beat him up if you wanted. Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Sukuna, you are a man.” You laughed lightly.

“Exactly my point.” Rubbing a hand on your back, Sukuna picked up one of the croissants. “I hope you like these because I can already tell it’ll be too sweet for me.” You laughed again and sat up, keeping your face close to his.

“I have something sweet for you too, I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” Quirking a brow, Sukuna jumped when you planted your lips on his. The kiss didn’t last long and the taste of your lip balm and feel of your lips was permanently engraved into Sukunas brain.

“There.” Your cheeks were absolutely on fire, shame rolling off of you in waves at having your first kiss in a crowded cafe on a busy day in the city. It wasn’t even a particularly romantic setting, but something spurred you to do it.

“W-what the hell! You can’t just do that!” Sukuna gasped, his own cheeks burning a deep, scalding red. “You gotta warn a guy first!” His dramatics were drawing attention from the other patrons, making the situation even worse.

“Sshh, you’re being too loud!”

“Like I care! Kiss me again, I’m ready this time!” Grabbing you by the shoulders, Sukuna tried to kiss you.

“W-wait, there’s people watching!”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s watching!” Grabbing your chin, Sukuna kissed you much firmer than when you kissed him. It lasted longer as well, bordering on too long for what is accepted in public. “There.” Pulling away slightly out of breath, Sukuna sat back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re so embarrassing.” You whined, hiding your face in your hands and hitting Sukuna with your head.

“All I’m hearing is how great of a boyfriend I am.”

“No you’re not.” You countered, getting wrapped in a side hug by Sukuna.

“It’s debatable.” Picking up the croissant he dropped, Sukuna took a bite. “Hm, this is sweet but not as sweet as that kiss you gave me.”

“Sukuna!”

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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shoutogepi · 5 years ago

Text

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou

genre : [ ☀︎ ] fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

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