#mens tank tops cheap

[rugtopper]

LOVING UNCLE VAL

By Rugtopper

I had debated all day whether or not I was going to talk to my uncle.  When he finally came home that evening from an art exhibition, I waited until he had finished in his bedroom before I finally knocked on his bedroom door.

"Wait just a moment, Anthony.  I'm in the bathroom."

I waited another minute or so and then my uncle told me to come in.

I sat down on the end of the bed and waited to say what I wanted to say while I watched my uncle.  My Uncle Valentine Carminello was standing in front of his dresser mirror removing his cufflinks and button studs from his tuxedo shirt.  He had removed his tuxedo pants.  Even though his shirt was loose, I could clearly see his traditional athletic undershirt beneath it.  He was still wearing his black thick and thin socks, his double grip sock garters, and his opera court shoes.  I could also see he was wearing boxer shorts that were almost knee-length with little burgundy medallions all over them. Being Italian, he had the most luscious head of jet black hair.  Although on closer inspection, it was obvious that his hair was really a toupee.  As it was 1978, his toupee was the best Kanekalon fiber money could buy.  It was thick and full and brushed off the forehead in an Italian pompadour.  It was styled with an off-the-forehead upsweep.  If you got very close you could see the mesh foundation base.  I was in awe.

"Did you enjoy the art exhibition, Uncle Val?"

"It wasn't bad, Anthony.  It was an eclectic mix.  Now, Anthony, what is the matter with you?  You have been in a mood all day long.  Did you do well on that science test?"

"I made a B minus on the test, but I got an A plus on the lab work.  That's not why I've been in a weird mood lately."

"Well, I'm proud of you.  Now, what is wrong?"

"I don't know how to tell you."

"Well, you don't look sick.  What is going on?"

I just sat there looking down, unable to really say what I really wanted to say.

"Well . . ."

I just blurted out, "I want my hair to look like yours, Uncle Val."

"Anthony, look at me.  Look at my hair.  Now I know that you are fully aware that my hair is not really my own hair.  You are old enough to know that this is a toupee."

"I know, Uncle Val, but I love how it looks and I love you.  I just want to look like you."

"Oh, Anthony I love you, too, but you are only 13 years old.  You are too young for a toupee.  Besides, you have nice pretty hair just like your mom had."

We just sat there for a few moments.  Finally I looked up at my uncle and asked, "do you know why we were late to the funeral service?"  

"That was ages ago, Anthony .  You were only six.  How could I remember.  I don't recall that we were late for the funeral, Anthony.  They were not going to start without us.  I just remember how handsome you looked in your little suit."

"Uncle Val, we were late because I kept trying to make my hair look like yours.  Dad always made fun of it.  I didn't know when I was six what a toupee was.  I just knew I liked how nice it looked."

"Anthony, your dad never liked me even before he married my sister, your mom.  I didn't want them to get married, but your mom insisted on marrying him.  When they started fighting, she made sure she named me as your guardian.  Four months later, they had that horrible car wreck that killed them and put you in the hospital for weeks."

"I know.  I don't know why I want to have hair like yours.  I just would like mine to look like yours."

"Anthony, look at me."  He reached up and started slowly removing his toupee.  I couldn't believe how bald he was.  I hadn't seen him without his toupee in a few years.  He had always tried to keep me from seeing him without it.  "Take a close look, Anthony.  Do you really want to be like this?  Does this have to do with your friends?  Your friend Danny's grandfather wears a toupee, so does your friend Marty's eldest brother.  Is that what this is about?"

"How do you know about them?"

"They both go to the same barber as I do. Is this what this is about?"

"Not exactly.  I don't know.  I just know that I'd like to have one."

"Anthony, do you really want to be bald and wear a toupee?  Do you really want to put up with the snide remarks behind your back like that I get?  What about swimming and roller coasters?  Yeah, you can enjoy them, but there is always the fear that you might have a mishap and be embarrassed.  Then there is the fact that someone might want to run their fingers through your hair someday.  Do you want to have to endure that potential humiliation?  I don't think you have even begun to think about what is involved with something like this."

As he finished telling me all that, he got up from the bed, took his toupee and put it on its leather wig stand on his dresser.  There was a slightly longer one just beside it.  He came back to the end of the bed, put on his robe, sat down, and removed his shoes, garters, and socks.  He slipped on his house shoes and went to the kitchen.  I followed him.  He filled the kettle from the tap and got two mugs.  He was going to make chamomile tea.  I knew we weren't through talking.

"Anthony, you are a sweet boy, but you haven't got a clue what you think you want."

"You may be right.  I guess I'm being silly, wanting my hair to look like yours."

"Of course I'm right.  Now, drink your tea and tell me more about this science lab.  You're a better student than I ever was.  I nearly blew my science lab up when I was your age."

I went to bed that night, but I still couldn't get the idea out of my head.  I decided to try talking to Uncle Val again after school.  It went slightly better only because Uncle Val made a concession.

"Come here, Anthony.  Put on my spare," Uncle Val said to me after I talked to him the next day.  I went into his bedroom.  I sat at the little built-in vanity.  He took the spare toupee off its stand and put it on top of my head.  It felt funny with my mop of dark wavy hair bunched up underneath it.  He tried to get it to stay in place and combed it.  I thought it looked great, even if I was only 13.

"So, what do you think?  How does it feel?"

"I don't know.  I guess I would have to get used to it like you did."

He took it off and put it back on its stand.

"I'll tell you what, Anthony.  When you are older, if you need it, I will do everything to help you get one.  However, if, when you graduate from high school, you still want it, whether you need it or not, I will get it for you before you go off to college.  Okay?"

"Okay."

With that, I didn't discuss it with him anymore.  However, the desire never faded.  It only grew stronger as the months and years rolled on.  As I soon discovered how to pleasure myself, I realized why I might want it.  That was something I certainly couldn't tell Uncle Val.

As the school years rolled by, I adopted a few other things I liked about my uncle.  He took me to buy some underclothes and a pair of garters.  He thought it was funny when I dyed my dark brown hair black, but he didn't make fun of me.

The week of my high school graduation, I asked him if he remembered what he had promised me when I was only 13.  I reminded him that he said that he would get me a toupee whether I needed one or not after I graduated from school.  I asked him for one as a graduation present before I went off to college.

"What!  Are you crazy, Anthony?  Look at you.  Most guys would be jealous of a head of hair like yours.  Hell, I'm jealous.  Why on earth would you want to get rid of it only to cover up with a cheap facsimile?  It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, Uncle Val.  It doesn't make any sense.  I don't understand it at all, but you promised.  Will you take me to your barber next week after I graduate?"

Uncle Val just stood there .  He hadn't changed much in the past six years.  His toupee was just as dark and full.  It was still a synthetic fiber, though I don't know what kind.  He finally walked over to the phone and called his barber.  He was on the phone for quite some time.  When he got off the phone, he looked at me and said, "you have an appointment a week from Friday."

I know I smiled and said thank you.  I probably also got a bit excited in other ways.  I wasn't really thinking clearly.

Finals and graduation flew by without incident.  I was 25th in my class.

When Friday came, I was excited and nervous and scared.  I had no idea what was going to happen.  Over the years I had gone to the barbershop with Uncle Val.  I had watched him get his real hair trimmed while he sat there very bald and embarrassed.  I would look at the hairpiece magazines.  Sometimes I'd take a few home to look at while I played with myself.  Sometimes Danny's grandfather was there.  Sometimes Marty's eldest brother was there.  Danny's grandfather was at least 60.  His toupee was this pewter or silvery gray that was very thick.  Marty's eldest brother was named Jon.  He was about an inch shorter than Marty.  He wore a brown toupee with a traditional left-sided part.  I couldn't believe how bald he was when the barber removed his toupee to trim his fringe.  Marty and I had turned 18 a few weeks apart.  Jon had to have been 26 or 27.  Marty never told me when Jon got his first toupee.  I was going to wait and ask him myself after I got mine.

After all the customers had left, Uncle Val began talking with the barber.  About ten minutes later, he motioned for me to get in the chair.  He had a toupee exactly like Uncle Val's, only it was light brown.  There was some gray on the sides and in the back, but none in the toupee.  He began combing my hair in various directions.  Finally he got these long clips and began to segment my hair.  He took a pair of scissors and a narrow-toothed comb.  He started giving me a regular haircut on the sides above my ears and in the back.  He was extremely quick.  In less than 15 minutes, he was completely done.  I had a traditional businessman's haircut that would have been acceptable in any corporate setting around the globe.  He put down the comb and scissors and walked to a cabinet a few feet away.  He opened to reveal a dozen wig stands on three different shelves.  He took two identical off the third shelf and carried them over to the ledge across from the chair from where I was sitting.  They were similar in style to the barber's and Uncle Val's, but they were a dark brown like what my natural hair color had been before I dyed it.

He took the clips out of the hair on top.  He got clippers, turned them on, and began removing all the hair on the top of my head.  He made several passes from back to front as sheets of my dyed black hair fell onto the clear, see-through cape.  With each pass, I saw more and more scalp.  After the third pass, he got a small electric razor and ran it back and forth across the top of my head.  I had dreamed of this moment.  Now that it was finally happening, I did not know how to respond.  I just sat silently in awe of my new look.  He must have told me to get up because Uncle Val had to call my name and tap me on the shoulder.  The barber led me to the sink.  He shampooed my hair.  It had an almost acrid, pungent odor.  I soon discovered that it was to remove the black dye.  After he applied a heavy cream conditioner to my hair and scalp, he left me with my head in the basin for almost five minutes.  After he rinsed me, he applied another heavy cream, but only to the top of my scalp.  It felt like my scalp was on fire.  He told me this would kill the hair follicles for several weeks making it easier to wear the toupee on a day-to-day basis.  When he said that I suddenly got the most uncontrollable erection I had ever had in public.  Tipped backward in that chair, there was no way to hide it.  The barber just smiled and made a comment about me being like my uncle.  After he rinsed the depilatory from my scalp, he led me back to the barber's chair.  I got a good look at the new me.  I was bald.  I was almost as bald as Uncle Val.  I didn't look 18.  I didn't know how old I looked, but it wasn't anything like a teenager should look.

The fitting, and the cutting, and the styling took quite some time.  Despite his swiftness, it took over an hour to "cut-in" both of my new hairpieces.  He dealt with both exactly the same way.  There was very little styling involved.  They were mesh based just like Uncle Val's.  There was a perimeter of hardened plastic where the barber applied a heavy double-sided tape.  He used thinning shears to taper and blend the sides and back into the fringe hair.  He never trimmed the main body of my new toupees.  Lastly, he rolled this machine over and plugged it in.  It looked like a portable IV drip that you would see in the hospital except this had a huge two gallon container at the bottom full of water with a hose attached to something that looked like it came off a vacuum cleaner.  He told me it was a steamer that is used for clothes, but it worked well on hairpieces.  He turned it on.  In less than two minutes, steam was coming out of the hose.  He took the vacuum cleaner attachment in his hand and with a brush began styling my new hair.  I could feel my toupee ever so slightly lift as he used the steamer and the brush to "shape" my new hair into the same style he and Uncle Val also had.

When he finished with the second toupee, he put the spare wig on its stand and the other empty stand in two sacks.  Uncle Val paid and we left the barbershop.  Uncle Val had me place the sacks in his trunk.  When we got into the car, he looked over at me and said, "well, Anthony, is it everything you thought it would be?"

I didn't really know what to say or what he expected me to say.  Finally, I looked in the vanity mirror at my new hair.

"I like how it looks, but it feels different than what I had expected it to feel like.  I'm also slightly nervous because I'm actually bald underneath my new toupee."

"Well, you said this is what you wanted.  You better plan on wearing it for a very long time.  I don't want you to leave the house without it taped to your head.  Do you understand me?  So, are you ready to face the public as a young man in a rug?"

"What?"

"I thought I'd take you out to dinner.  I know graduation was last week, but I think you need to get used to wearing it out in public as soon as possible.  Danny and his grandfather, Tom, and Jon and Marty are meeting us at the restaurant.  Danny and Marty were at the barbershop earlier this morning.  I think they will want you to see their new look, and they will want to see your new look, as well."

I just turned and stared at my uncle and finally said, "I love you, Uncle Val!"

"I know, Anthony.  I love you, too."

Six handsome men of various ages sat around a huge table at a popular local steakhouse in 1984.  It was no different than other people eating out on any given night, except these six men all shared an uncommon, but fairly obvious secret.  Sadly, they were also oblivious to the fact that most anyone with basic observation skills could deduce that special secret.

[screampied]

#RENT-A-DILF! t. fushiguro

ৎ୭ sum. sims 4? more like sims whore. out of procrastination and sheer boredom, you install this pretty new game titled ‘rent-a-dilf!’ the catch? he actually spawns in real life and wants more than just one day with you. girl…

wc. 8.1k (erm)

warnings. fem! reader, dilf! toji, loser girl reader, unprotected, size differences, size kinks, he’s reaaal nasty, brief toy usage, praise, dirty talk, fīngering, squīrting, face fúcking, me breaking the fourth wall, cunnīlingus, bjs, making him whine, implied marathons, breeding kink, impact play, petnames, toji being well … toji!

an. HUUGE thank u 2 kali @blkkizzat for beta'ing some !! <3 this came to me in a dream so… this is all over the place eheh.

“HEY, GIRL. WANNA GET DILFED? PLAY NOW!”

“huh..” you swipe a fat thumb down the dimly lit screen of your phone. ah, the things you do at the buttcrack of midnight. your eyes were glued to your device for about a good hour as you allowed curiosity to get the utter best of you.

RENT-A-DILF! ™ was a brand-spankin’ new romance simulation game. it was a cheap knockoff version of tinder and the sims combined but made up of purely dilf characters. it was easy, you’d list your desired preferences and the game would randomly choose the perfect matches for you. it’s a 50/50 chance that you’ll match with one of the higher-up characters—specifically, the newest one that recently got added to the roster of digital men. toji fushiguro, also known as his ridiculous alias of ‘GUTREARRANGER385.’

at first glance - he’s smokin’ hot.

the app allows you to spin toji around, swipe a thumb through his shaggy black bangs, and even dress him up. your eyes skimmed toward a few words near his bio that read, ‘thirty-three, single, verified dilf, full nelson / doggy enthusiast. . ,’ and an extra tag that read ‘oh, i’m also filthy rich.’

well…

toji was a top-rated character, and again, he was just added to the line-up about a few hours ago.

as you sink into the fat cushions of your pillows, you grip your phone.

it was almost eerie—it was as if the dark-haired character was looking straight at you. while you’re deep in thought, still taking in his displayed stats and filthy bio, your eyes trace back up toward his face. it reads that he’s about a staggering height of 6’2 and judging from his burly build alone, he was fuckin’ jacked.

such swole muscles . .

you couldn’t stop staring for a bit, and the black compression tank with loose-fitted shorts didn’t exactly help things either.

his stance was idle as he had an accessory of a priggish grin curling across both sides of his scarred lips.

his lips, you were so busy fawning over toji’s body that you didn’t even notice the scar that vertically ran down the right side of his mouth. it’s such a brief detail but it’s sexy.

you kind of wanted to know more about him. now that you thought about it, the game had dozens of ‘???’ symbols near the pink box where his lore was supposed to be. he’s new so you’d probably have to wait until you learn more about him.

with your eyes trailing back toward him, just so smug. you could tell from his demeanor despite him being just literal pixels on your glowy screen.

or so you thought..

“fuck it,” you sigh, lightly tapping the print of your thumb against the bright pink ‘marry me?’ button.

you did a lazy skim beforehand about the app’s so-called ‘pity system’ and how dim your chances were at actually snagging toji. like hell, you were gonna spend money on a game—you just had to hope that you were lucky.

it’s damn near close to one at night before you slouch back, sprawling your legs out in an attempt to get more comfortable.

staring at your screen and scratching your head, seconds . . minutes go by and nothing happens.

the game swallows up the last remnants of your free gems and you’re leering back at toji who you could’ve sworn just rolled his eyes at you.

what . . the . . fuuuck . .

okay, girl. sooo nothing happened. now what?

your brows start to contort together in frustration and now you are really bored.

all you wanted was to see what was the hype around this new popular dating-slash-romance-simulator game and now, you were disappointed.

then again, you’ve heard of how games like these were known to scam their players.

with an annoyed groan, you toss your phone near the edge of the bed before crawling over toward your burgundy-colored nightstand. there, you lightly pull on the wooden handle, opening your drawer.

your eyes land on your sparkly-colored rose toy. just about a few days ago, it came in the mail and you were oh-so ecstatic to try it out.

holding your thumb over the heart-shaped power button, you hear the loud ‘beeeep!’ indicating it’s turned on.

reclining back, you lift your nightgown before sighing deeply. hopefully, your cute ‘lil toy could help make you forget everything that just happened.

honestly, you didn’t really think the stupid game would work anyway. you’ll leave a one-star review later.

the entire game screamed a scam but hey, you only live once. it was worth a shot. actually, no it wasn’t.

but on the bright side,

you were starting to forget about the app the moment your pinched fingers slid your panties to the side. a soft moan leaves from your lips the moment the rubber edge of the vibrator smears against your bare clit. your back nearly arches forward, and as you’re gnawing on your bottom lip, you can feel your toes curling.

“f- fuck,” you swallow in an incoming breath, hearing the loud ‘bzzzz’-ing resounding through each of your paper-thin walls.

the stimulation had you forgetting about that shitty game within seconds. you lie back against your pillow, sweet harmonic whines purring out of your dry throat as you gradually succumb to your coarse thoughts.

then it hit you.

why don’t you just fantasize about . . him?

toji fushiguro.

dark-haired, smug grin, scarred sly lips, beefy build, and cold green eyes..

as you started to envision him in your clouded mind—you let off a soft whine. your thoughts were scrambled, but the first image that popped up in your brain was his arms. his muscles, the various veins that would pop through his biceps.

oh- you only imagined what it would feel like to have his arms wrapped around your throat.

the thoughts alone make your thighs squeeze together, and the buzzing from the toy shrieks even louder once you turn it up a single notch.

‘powering off. . !’

wait,

what?

snatched straight out of your lewd fantasm, your fingers pause as they lie against the rubber toy. your eyes widen once the vibrating stops— and then in your room, it’s dead quiet again.

“you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” you whine, the realization that your toy dying mid-fantasy making your mood turn even more sour.

first, you lose in the game and you lose at playing with yourself too? damn, girl you’re a failure!

oh uh, sorry.

“heh, need help, sugar?”

you freeze the minute your ears perk up, hearing a smoky raspy voice. its low, with a bit of huskiness underneath it too. coldness sets against your thighs, creeping at the skin that hides underneath your pulled-up nightgown before you gulp.

was that…

“yeah, it’s me. y’er wished uh- ‘dilf.’ whatever i’m supposed to say,” toji adds in a raspy tone, crossing his beefy arms with a puffed-out chest. it was as if he was reading your mind. you probably had the dumbest expression plastered across your face because toji then smirked. “what? y’er toy that failed to make you cum made you speechless too? awwwh.”

smug bastard.

a wave of embarrassment crept against your skin as you closed your dangling, open jaw. oh fuck.

he saw that- he saw you, little ‘ole you playing with yourself. just seconds ago, you were fantasizing about if he really was here, and now actually he is.

in the flesh . . . literally.

“i… uh,” you stammer, struggling to form a proper sentence. toji stands tall, a few inches away from the edge of your bed. hooded, green eyes stare at you and he’s just loving it - the way your eyes rove down his body, openly checking him out.

he wore the same outfit you picked out for him in the game.

a compression tank top with some shorts. (you added a tiny pink bow on his head just to be funny) the more you ogled at him with cute, enlarged eyes—the more you realized just how big he was. ‘big’ was an understatement, the guy was huge. toji towered over you even while you were lying in bed. “wow,” you softly utter, your eyes coincidently landing on his bulge.

toji was packed- and it was as if his bulge was having a staring contest right back at you.

“i know, darlin.’ he’s big ain’t he?” toji snickers.

you finally meet toji’s eyes before scoffing. his personality traits weren’t kidding about him at all. he’s cocky. “i’m just- you’re real?”

“pretty much.”

“but… how?”

“touch me ‘n find out, darlin.’”

you deadpan, but it was tempting.

you don’t even realize that you’re already sitting up from your bed—slowly inching yourself toward him.

toji eyes you with the same impish simper, puffed chest, and hefty arms crossed. he’s so brawny, and the moment you softly feel on his left bicep with a hand, he snickers.

“mhm,” he mumbled under his breath, and you could feel his muscles tense at your touch. multiple veins pulsed down his exposed arms and oh- the entire thing was so sensual.

you still felt embarrassed but now you started to feel something else. toji noticed you started to stare at his hands and he raised a dark brow. “this not enough for you, yeah?” your eyes widened once he then bent down, a few inches away from your face. he’s actually real, and sure, you were probably staring at literal pixels but you didn’t care. “want me ‘ta touch you, pretty girl?”

“please,” you whine, and that single word comes out of your mouth so quickly. it flew past your lips within and split a second and you didn’t even register how fuckin’ whiny you sounded in front of him.

your body was burning hot, and you were blazing up underneath your nightgown. “i- i mean, yeah,” you try to play it cool, only embarrassing yourself even further. toji’s so close thought that you could fully smell him.

he smelled manly, a citrusy mixture of wood sage and leather. it’s strong, so strong that it makes you blink thrice.

“yeah what?” toji gruffs, and god he’s just getting closer ‘n closer. by now, he’s just a few spaces away from kissing you.

you’re hoping - praying that he couldn’t hear the dramatic thumps of your heart’s weak pulse.

it’s pounding loudly, competing with drums with each ba-dump! it creates in your chest. toji softly cups your chin, and raises a thin brow once you lean into his touch right away.

“ ‘m gonna need to hear that pretty mouth tell me what to do.” and his smoky voice softens just a bit.

leafy eyes intently stare at you before they shift toward your quivering glossed lips. you’re needy and oh, could he tell.

you lock eyes with toji before letting off a cute sigh. it’s more of a frustrated one—and he’s gingerly rubbing a thumb down your pouty bottom lip. “touch- i want you to touch me, toji.”

“aht ahttt. manners, darlin’,” toji eggs on, guiding his thumb near the corner of your lips. the edge was killing you, and the haughtiness in his voice only made you more irritated. “ ‘pretty please?’ c’mon, talk to me nice.”

toji’s simper turns pompous as he watches you attempt to shoot daggers at him. your knees squeeze together and you’re just so impatient that you just sucked it up, complying. “p.. pretty please, touch me toji.”

“good girl,” he murmurs, and his voice pitched a bit lower this time. it’s almost dangerous, and you gasp once his big hand snakes around your neck.

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this is even real - but fuck, you were never one to complain.

toji takes a glance at your snapped-shut thighs and he chuckles. “aw, poor thing. that cute rose toy didn’t seem to be much help, huh?”

“……”

ouch.

he just had to remind you of that. but his hand around your neck felt good. he’s gentle, slowly making his way down your chest. toji then starts to make you lie down on your back.

with a flop! the comfy queen-sized bed springs out and you sigh.

“toooji,” and it’s almost like you’re whining again. you hated how slow he was taking, and you knew it was on purpose. the stare he’s giving your body makes you almost moan. your room was slightly dim, but you could still make out his towering wide silhouette. “m- more.”

toji gets on your bed, the mattress dipping from the sudden weight before he grumbles. “bet you fuckin’ do,” and you gasp once he stares between your legs. you moan, watching as toji starts to smell your thighs. he doesn’t just smell though, he’s slowly rubbing his nose and entire face up and down your skin. he’s feral already, and you could tell just from the grunt that leaves his lips shortly after. “ ‘m guessin’ you don’t want me to just touch you anymore, huh sugar?”

“no,” you breathlessly reply, nearly writhing from his touch once his shaggy bangs ghost against your skin.

toji could already smell between your legs. so peachy, and he even made out the faint candied aroma of your body wash that lingered on your skin. your back was already creating an arch at the temptation alone. once his barred hands sprawl your legs apart, he stares straight at your dripping cunt.

oh - you were perfect..

toji huffs, taking a second to smear a thumb down your slit that’s dribbling with so much slit.

leisurely, it cascades down your folds and you watch with glassy eyes once he brings his same thumb up to his lips, getting a taste. “mmm, ain’t that a treat,” and you moan, a hand of yours clawing on his head. toji snickers, feeling your weak grip trying to push him further between your thighs. “my, aren’t you impatient,” toji rasps with a guffaw. “but heh- fine, spread these legs f’ me. ‘s been a while since i’ve eaten good anyway.”

and the moment toji feasts himself between your pretty plush thighs — you were fuckin’ screwed..

he was a literal animal. the second his tongue delves itself inside of your cunt - he’s insane.

toji grunts, pursing his carmine-colored lips as your feeble hips start to rock against his mouth.

“o- ohhh my god,” you’d whimper, tugging at his raven strands. his head movement was just ferocious, swerving from the left to right.

his tongue’s stupidly long too, and toji dips it inside of your pussy before fishing it right back out. he reels it out of your puffed folds before diving right back in.

he’s sluuuurping you as if his life depended on it, savoring your sweetened taste as his lips stuck against your clit. “ngh- fuck, toji,” and your lips couldn’t help but curl into a cute oval.

his tongue..

he’s bullying it between your folds, profusely circling the pointed tip around your pretty ‘lil clit. briefly, it gets trapped within his teeth and toji gives it a little nibble.

a soft yelp! rips out of your throat at the tender munch of his canines playfully munching on your sweetest spots. toji found it cute how you were so squirmy, so much so that his callused rough hands had to hold your hips down. with a cute shimmy, you’re wriggling your twitching sex against his mouth.

already, you watch the glittery stream of your slick starting to drip drip drip down his chin.

toji’s green eyes glance up at you and he snickers, popping in a single digit. slooowly, you feel his thumb sinking inside of your cunt before disappearing into the void of your entrance. you’re moaning, maintaining your firm grip on his head before whimpering. “mm, yank on it harder why don’tcha.”

toji grumps—his head pulling forward roughly at your adorable strength. he’s buried not six inches deep but nose deep, and you shiver once the tip of his button nose starts to rub up ‘n down your sobbing pussy.

he’s addicted- not only that but the epitome of pussy drunk.

“tojiiiii!” you slur out his name, a gasp shortly following out of your lips. the dexterous shapes and curves of his tongue make you whine out his name again . . and again . . and a-fuckin’-gain.

as he’s easing another thick finger inside of your cunt, you’re starting to fantasize.

why didn’t men like him exist in real life?!

he’s messy, giving each area of your cunt a multitude of sloppy kisses. bubbles of saliva trickle past the corners of his lips as he’s stuffed right between your legs.

toji’s damn near animalistic- his buds continuing to whine out for more of your divine taste.

he doesn’t think he’s tasted anything this good since.

you’re full, exhaling a sharp breath once you feel him plug in yet another digit.

“biiiig stretch, baby. three’s the fuckin’ charm,” toji huskily groans, staring straight at your pussy.

it’s so pretty, he’d never get over the shine that coats the entirety of your loving entrance. if he’d squint, he’d mistaken your clit for a blossoming flower. a more lewd one at least anyway.

it’s sloppy with the way he’s got three fat fingers barreling inside of you at once. toji watches as your stomach dips and you’re gasping, tightly pulling at his scalp. “hehhh, atta girl. get these fingers wet if you want toji sir later.”

toji sir….?

just as you were about to eye roll, you let off a moan once you hear the ridiculously wet sloshes of your cunt. he’s pumping all fingers in and out of you while flicking his tongue — multitasking.

with a ‘pop!’ he takes one out before sliding it back in, feeling you bare around each digit like a good girl. “oh- fuck, please don’t stop. pleaseplease,” and you grow even more hysterical as you’re just basically fucking against his face now.

as you’re jerking your hips against toji’s face, you feel a bit of stubble along with his slanted scar smearing against your cunt.

it tickled, but oh- you weren’t laughing.

your eyes were rolling at the enticing sways of his tongue every time. they reach deep- far deeper than the tips of his fingers if that was even possible. as toji’s still idly swirling his flat tongue inside of your gummy orifice, he hears you exhale a deep shriek. “ ‘m gonna cum!”

“awh,” toji slyly murmurs, and you coo out a surprised ‘oooh’ the moment he snatches out of his dewy-coated fingers.

they’re covered in translucent webs of your tangled slick when he gives your cunt a pat. “hear that, baby? said she’s gonna cum,” and he’s not even looking at you. verdant eyes gave your pussy his entire uninvited attention instead, and you feel him blowing his hot breath against your puffy slit. toji even presses his ear up to your wet folds before nodding. “mhm. ‘s exactly what i’m sayin.’”

“uh?? are you seriously talking to my pu—”

“quiet now, sugar. you’ll get y’er turn,” toji utters, making you moan with a spanking right against your fluttering clit. as you’re still laid back with your legs widely splayed out, you quietly bite back whimpers once his palm starts to maneuver a circle around your entrance.

a wet splash! ends up making you spurt out a few droplets of slick right onto the center of his hand. “nasty giiiirl,” he purrs, turning his palm around before licking it right up while staring dead at you.

your neck starts to feel a bit numb as it’s slightly raised just so you can keep staring at toji. he’s just toying with your pussy, casually flicking his tongue against your nub just to hear you whine.

“t- tojiiii.” you wail out, feeling your nerves practically scream at you.

you felt every bundle of axons in your body violently shake you to your very core. your thighs wrapped around toji’s broad neck, merely suffocating him—but he had to admit, going out like this wasn’t so bad..

“give it t’ me then,” he gruffly rasps against your pussy. his breath yet again fans against your folds, noticing that cute ‘lil pulse that would always occur whenever his lips were just a few inches apart.

toji even whistles against your slit, lolling out his tongue before lapping you up from top to bottom.

teasingly, he even goes down toward your neglected puckering hole to give it a loving lick. “all on my tongue, girl. hah- make a mess,” he continues, and you’re whimpering as he’s gruffly talking you through your incoming release.

all you’re seeing is nothing but white once it finally comes. bright, blinding splotches of white that blur your vision for a few seconds..

the moment you let go, you let off a sweet squalling orgasm that rings through your ears and toji’s.

more of a sobbing battle cry and it’s oh-so cute.

at least toji thought so, and he could feel the lessening hold of your fingers releasing from his ravened tresses.

toji’s slurping you clean, making sure his tongue doesn’t miss a drip of your syrupy mess. it coats down on his tongue perfectly, falling on his sizzling tastebuds and even pouring a stream down his chiseled chin.

“there we go girl, uh huhhh.” as he’s talking with his mouth full, you fall back against your bed.

you’re beat - stars clouding your vision and your current state was so cartoonish.

your legs felt like they stopped working, no batteries left in each limb and you’re still moaning whilst he’s lapping up the last few syrupy drops.

licking near the crevices of your inner thighs, toji hums. “heh. y’er cute. ‘s been a while since you’ve got eaten out, sugar?”

in a sluggish mumble, you stare at toji with metaphorical heart eyes. “i guess.”

“poor baby,” he clicks his tongue, sitting up. you’re panting heavily, watching as he gets up. toji’s broad body hovers over you and he runs a hand through his matted black strands. “y’know-” he pauses at the feeling of your hand reaching near his shorts. toji looks at you before snickering, raising a brow. “aw, don’t tell me you want a taste too. ‘s that what you want?”

“mhm,” you utter, and you don’t even realize you are drooling once you’re fondling your fingers with the hem of his briefs. they’re a viridescent green, matching his eye color. once you meet the strip of his boxers with bold black letters that read, ‘DADDY TOJI,’ you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

of course he’d wear briefs that had his name on them.

“don’t be shy, girl,” toji murmurs, placing a wide palm on your head.

you crawl forward as he’s now lying down on the bed with you on your knees. toji’s tank top was wrinkly, and it was pulled up just a tad bit for you to peep at his snatched waistline. it’s sharp, you’d guess that if you tried to touch his hips you’d be left with a paper cut. “ ‘m alllll yours t’night. and he watches as you waste no time, speedily pulling down his boxers.

you’re met that same huge bulge you saw when he was in the game—

it’s big, so big that it almost looked painful.

the way it poked out the fabric, hardening from the tent that was concealing it from being sprung out.

once you pull down his briefs, his cock eventually does spring out, and your eyes cutely widen. “f- fuck.”

“yeahh, toji sir’s gonna be inside you in a minute.”

“stop talking about your dick like it’s a person.”

“make me.”

he’s so annoying,

silence was your reply and toji snickers once he sees you deadpan. he liked getting on your nerves. he found it cute how you were trying to keep up your stubborn façade while wrapping a hand around his monstrous length at the same time.

but fuck.. he’s just so thick-

at first, toji could barely fit around your entire palm. his tip’s swollen, a ruddy crimson red with a pearly split tip.

it’s got veins running from not just one side but all, and you were frothing inside of the mouth just imagining that thing down your throat. you’re so close up to it, glancing at the tears of pre-cum that snivel from the meaty sides. you couldn’t help but give his rounded tip a few kitten kisses.

“m-mhm,” toji grunts, his core muscles underneath his tightly fitted shirt flexing.

seconds later, you softly swirl your tongue around his tip—getting a good enough taste before humming with a closed-eye smile. “go ‘head, get a taste.”

toji’s hand claws on the crown of your head once he ogles at the sight before him.

you - arched over, a hand slowly jerking up and down his hefty shaft. a vein on his dick prods against your finger the moment you cup your lips around his head. it’s massive, and it takes you a second to relax your jaw out.

“nnghm-” you blink twice, laying your wet tongue flat against his flushed crown. toji watches, and he’s oh-so smug. the hooking curve he had on his cock didn’t help either.

you could already start to feel the creases of your mouth numb as you tried to fit him inside. the bittersweet taste of his pre-cum lingers on your buds as your lashes suddenly close.

“niiiiiice ‘n slow, babygirl. you got it,” toji says in a smoky gruff.

the muscles in his burly thighs tense the more your mouth slams down on him. with his nostrils flaring up, toji lets off a loooong groan that puffs out of his chest. “fuuuckk-” he grunts, feeling your tongue circle its way around his sparkly tip.

it’s glimmering with excess dewdrops of cum and you couldn’t help but lap up every drop. toji then sits up on his knees, making you keep your current position.

his knees dig into the plush mattress as he stares at how you’re slowly taking him in your mouth.

with a hand still wrapped around his thick shaft, your lashes flutter once his bulbous cockhead kisses against your uvula. “ahn-” you gulp, a few strands of saliva pouring down the corners of your cracked lips. toji groans, feeling you already starting to lather his entire meaty length with spit as a substitute for lubricant.

it’s messy - and toji eyes you the entire time, his grip against the top of your head getting a bit stronger.

“good girl, mhm. no teeth, n- no fuckin’ teeth. wanna feel that pretty tongue ‘n that tight throat,” and you let off a muffled moan once his tip sloppily drubs against the back of your throat yet again.

you lie your tongue flat, making it wander everywhere—tasting the tasteless veins that were shaped akin to lightning strikes.

it’s all over his cock, and your eyes are closed as you try to savor every inch that eases its way down your right throat. “god- that’s it, that’s what this cute mouth is for, yeah? for dick, huh,” and some more drool seeps from your lips as toji holds up your chin, rubbing a thumb over your mouth. “p- put that mouth to good use, sugar.”

your plump lips wrap around toji’s cock as your head starts to bobble. wholly, you’re taking him in with the end of your conic-shaped tongue teasingly sliding down the midline of his shaft.

toji’s nostrils flare up as he starts to push you closer into his unsteady hips, sucking in a dramatic breath once he feels you starting to wetly fist his cock quicker with one hand.

again, it’s damn biiig, throbbing in the palm of your hand and you moan once you guide your other hand between your legs.

with quick reflexes though, toji reaches in and gives your wrist a slight swat.

“no touchin’, girl.” he grumbles, and you let off a pout as your puffed cheeks heat up. “don’t worry about her right now, she’s fine where she’s at, promise.”

if you didn’t have your mouth occupied you’d smack your lips to voice your frustration, but alas…

your head continues to bobble as you take various fat inches down your throat, occasionally taking a second to breathe for air.

toji’s abs flex as you continue, digging his thick stubby fingers down your scalp. “mmp-” you let off a muffled moan, feeling your thighs squeeze shut.

pathetically enough, you were still dripping and the conditioned air fanning against your exposed skin only made you ten times more sensitive. toji lets off a deep, heavy sigh once you start to fondle his balls.

they were all round ‘n swollen, and he nearly choked on his own words once feels your stringy saliva trickle down toward his heavy, neglected sack.

“nasty s- slut,” he huffs out, already starting to feel his cock tightening. your throat and its warmth were dangerous—and he can feel your jaw starting to slacken. “mmm, gettin’ handsy on me, yeah pretty girl?” and toji brings two fingers toward your face, plugging your nose.

it only lasts about two seconds and you moan, his dick sloppily popping out of your mouth and he hears you gasp. a lustrous stream of spit starts to dribble down your chin as you pant, cutely glaring at him.

“aw, such a messy baby. look at that wet jawww,” he smears a hand down your chin, watching you lean back in.

toji grunts, feeling you grip his base and he knew sooner rather than later, that he was getting close.

you’re opening your throat niiice and wide as if you were preparing to belt out a high note. he’s tapping back against the roof of your mouth and near your twitching uvula repeatedly, and that’s when toji starts to thrust his hips into your mouth.

“fuck, f- fuckk keep goin’,” his voice starts to pitch deeper with an even more husky rasp before he starts to pant. “ ‘m gonna cum, gonna fuckin’ cum right down this messy throat. ‘s that what ya want, pretty?”

“mhm,” your head nods, and you could feel your cunt twitching between your legs at the erotic imagery.

the mental image of toji splattering ropes and ropes of hot cum on your achy pink tongue. it makes you nearly drool just imagining it, and you start to moan again.

toji groans, never getting over the lewd sliminess of your saliva mixing. sloppy strands continue to fall past the edges of your quivering lips as your glassy eyes glance up at him.

toji’s puffing and huffing feverish heavy breaths that make you throb even more. his chest sinks in and out as he’s preparing to shoot a nice load right on your tongue. “hah- fine then, open wide baby girl. better take it all.” toji groans, shivering once your lips tickle down the slope of his frenulum.

with a loud spurt! toji ends up releasing, slimy creamy strings gradually painting near the inside of your mouth.

it comes out slow but it’s so hot- you let off a soft mewl at the bitterly somewhat sweet taste soaking on your highly anticipated tastebuds.

“mmmh.” you let off a satisfied hum, flapping your lashes as he dumps such rivulets of cum down your throat. frosty ribbons ooze down your throat one drop at a time and toji grunts.

“hah- good . . good fuckin’ girl, c’mere.” toji grunts.

as you’re trying to catch your breath yourself, he softly pulls you up by the neck, bringing you into a sultry hot kiss. you moan once his scarred lips harshly crash against yours at full speed.

toji swipes his tongue across the edge of your mouth, barely batting an eye that he’s tasting remnants of his cum on your lips.

as both tongues mercilessly fight for dominance, toji leans you to lie back down on the bed. he’s warm, and you can feel him shiver once you drag a palm down his beefy chest.

you taste a bit of mint on his tongue as he parts your legs with one hand blindly, giving your bare pussy a playful squeeze with his entire wrist.

“mmmpf-” you whimper against his lips, and toji’s big hands slowly trail their way toward your untouched tits. he squeezes them also.

you feel a curve of a smile from toji stretch against your lips as he hears you whine. still delving his greedy tongue in and out of your mouth, occasionally tilting his head, toji brushes his thumbs against the fleecy fabric of your nightgown that sheaths your perked nipples.

before you know it though—you now found yourself bent over and arched.

your lips were all hot and swollen, ridden entirely and you already missed his lips on yours as you laid chest flat down with a cute pout. you could feel toji’s eyes running down your back, shortly hearing a titter come from him once he stops to look at you.

“goddamn, sugar,” toji lets off a whistle as he enjoys the view from the back. your face was met between your fluffed pillows as you chewed on your lip in utter anticipation.

your slicked orifices were just weeping out with your syrupy arousal, clenching from the cold air aerating against it. toji wanders his eyes down the cute shape of your ass with his shaft in hand.

his stare - you could feel it, including the incoming chill that ran down your spine.

with a loud echoing spank, toji swats a hand against your ass, groaning at the jiggly flesh. “so pretty ‘n plump. ‘m gonna take my time with you.”

you moan as your ass instinctively wriggles. toji’s rough wide hands softly caress down your hips before he starts to align himself.

here it goes…

you were mentally preparing yourself, biting on the edge of your cottony pillow. the instant you feel his dewy tip smudge its head against your folds, you let off a deep sigh. shortly afterward, a sweet ‘oooh!’ departs from your lips from the fat size alone. your stomach was already seizing, and the wait was steadily killing you. “fu- fuck,” you croak out, hearing toji’s husky breathing from behind you.

all eyes were on you, and your sweet drooling cunt that just doesn’t know when to stop leaking.

it’s a gorgeous sight in his eyes—

the way how your pulsing inside your clit started to accelerate more ‘n more once he brings his flushed cockhead towards your entrance. “ahh, such a pretty pussy. let’s get the good girl a bit more loose,” toji heaves, and your mouth drops the second his hips sharply pierce inward. gradually, he’s starting to ease his way in..

he’s slow and gentle—

mainly because just a bit of pressure and he’d snap you in half like a twig.

he was that big, and once you were starting to feel the splitting stretch of his cock, you were hysterical. “ohmygoddd.” you blurb out, your hips already pathetically stuttering.

the stretch was so delicious, it’s so good that your eyes were starting to roll back toward the back of your skull yet again. toji groans, feeling your cunt trying to hug against him tightly, greeting him with a cute gummy flutter.

once his thick tip bullies its way inside with its sheer size instead of words alone… it’s game over.

a single thrust was enough to snap you right into reality, and you moan right as his hips punctuate its first hit.

that single hit soon turns into a combo, and toji’s cock started to maintain a decent pace before striking your cunt at all angles. he stares at the fat of your ass that bounces back against his sharp pelvis and he grunts.

“hah- that’s it, girl. fuck back into me, yeah.” and another rude palm smacks against your ass cheek. you whimper, feeling your toes curl at his weight pressing right up against you.

toji lifts his shirt which was practically gluing against his skin due to his masses of sweat. leaning in all the way close, he hovers his weight over you—making his abs rock against you as he starts to grind on your body.

“lemme hear ya,” he hoarsely whispers, feeling your cunt twitch the moment he wraps a hand around the back of your throat.

toji’s strokes were mean-

the epitome of ruthless once he’s just straight-up jackhammering into your walls.

your legs didn’t take long to become wobbly as you were whining his name constantly, choking on your crude inaudible syllables.

“toji—”

“again, not you little girl,” and you moan once his tip thrashes deep into your cervix. it’s nearly reaching there, attempting to drown it with sloppy vigorous kisses.

a palm goes over your mouth, muffling your sweet repetitive moans before he smirks.

“her,” and you whine, feeling him creep a free hand down between your parted thighs. toji rubs circles against your stuffed full cunt, hearing your whimpers pitch louder.

his rhythm was the definition of crazy, and as he was pounding into you continuously, you were slobbering all over the bare center of his palm. toji spanks between your legs, hearing your muffled yelp before lowly chuckling against your ear. a loud splash was heard from your cunt and he starts to smear it back against your throbbing entrance.

“mhm, see baby. she’s tryna talk to me again. ‘m more interested to see what she’s got to say,” and your eyes were practically crossed-eyed now. as toji’s deep voice talks your ear off, he playfully nibbles on your lobe. “wet pussy first, then the whiny wet girl, yeah?”

“mmph-” you moan, bawling your sheets into the open palms of your hand. toji gawks as your body starts to gradually lift.

it’s cute- your ass raises and you’re trying to match his pace. toji’s hitting you well and he’s hitting you deep.

each tilt of his hips sends you whiplash and you’re hacking on your own spit. “mmng.” as your muffled sounds resounded through your walls, you feel his hand go against your ass again.

toji’s favorite part always was to just see your skin bounce back against his.

the jiggle—it was the icing on the cake. the swerves of his hips have you getting dick-drunk within seconds.

bulging widely, your eyes enlarge the exact moment you feel something go against the back of your head.

it’s his foot- thankfully he’s wearing socks.

“fuuuck, such a nasty fuckin’ grip,” toji growls, bringing both hands toward your hips again. he’s holding you firmly, with his foot raising toward the back of your neck. you let off an even prettier moan this time, mutely gasping from the angle.

with toji’s foot near the back of your head, he’s in an even deeper position. “take it. take this dick, t- take it.” as you’re moaning, toji pushes you further into the follow.

oh- you were getting close again.

very, very close. so close that you could taste it in your tongue, it’s salty flavor never subsided.

it was coming quickly, and this time it felt a bit different.

your cunt’s glossing the entirety of toji’s cock that buries itself inside of your clingy walls before he groans. taking the pillow out of your mouth, your words and sounds aren’t so muffled anymore. “t- toji! somethin’s about to—”

“i know… iiiii know,” he cuts you off, and his thrusts against you start to slow. slow but still insanely deep.

you feel a bit of a bulge nudge against the lower pit of your tummy and you exhale. he’s in wholly, stretching out your pretty pussy and rearranging your insides—ironically enough just like his alias name.

“let go for me,” and you moan once he releases his foot from behind you, cupping your chin with a bare hand. you’re a mess, drooling from the sides of your swollen pursed lips before whining. “trust me, sugar. let go.”

at his words—you end up ‘letting go’ which fet like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

you’ve had orgasms but this felt like an entirely new world. you’re gushing out, sprinkling out a small clear stream on his cock before gasping.

your legs were on their last few hinges before collapsing and your eyes widened larger. “toji, toji s- shiiiit,” you ramble with furrowed brows and a dangling dropped jaw.

you’ve never felt more wet, and your entire body blissfully relaxes once your release comes.

toji’s still inside you before he sneers. your body gets limp and he squeezes your plump lips together. “woahhh,” he gruffs, pressing his chin onto your right shoulder. you shiver once you feel the clammy mess stick and soak between your thighs. “did you just squirt on me?”

“s- sorry, sorry,” you moan, feeling your left leg twitch. you’re still spurting out and it’s like a crashing wave that just keeps coming.

toji rubs a thumb against your lips, his hips coming to a sudden pause.

“ah. don’t apologize, silly girl,” toji coos against your neck, planting a kiss near your skin. he feels your body slumping but toji raises a brow once you make him pull out, lightly pushing him back on the bed. “oh? what’s this, sweetheart?” he lands on his chest before snickering. “atta girl. not scared ‘ta look me in the eye.”

“s.. shut up, toji.”

“hmph. how rude.”

toji ends up fucking you stupid, fucking the brain cells—whatever brain cells you had left in your brain by dumbing you down with fat inches of his cock.

round after round after round . .

you’re an entire drooling, babbling mess and despite your legs nearly giving out, you only wanted more..

he did countless positions with you, making you moan out his name constantly until it’s the only word that can slip past your glossed lips. until it’s the only word that can formulate in your brain.

you’re dumbfounded at his stamina - his speed.

you lost track of time and you were sure it was probably waaay past one am by now.

you were currently on top of toji, riding him with the loud creaks of your bed groaning in agony from both active bodies.

your hips were so sensual, rockin’ back and forth while he had a hand attached to your waist the entire time. that sly grin that painted across his lips never left. “yeahhh, girl. use those hip—ack,” and toji pauses mid-sentence once your hand wraps around his throat. “heh- the fuck?”

“you talk too much, toji.” you puff, watching his smug grin widen even more. he’s not even fazed?

oh- he’s turned on.

toji’s sat man-spread with his hand still gripping your hip. his cock’s puncturing inside of your cunt deeply, massaging thoroughly through your walls like its life depended on it.

the view of you swerving your body on his lap turned him on a lot more than he thought it would. it was just something about the way you moved your hips, going in circles and fuck- it drove him mad.

“funny comin’ from a pretty girl with a pussy who doesn’t know when to-”

you shut him up right away by placing your lips on his. toji grunts, leaning into your touch. you felt his hardened scar rub against the side of your lip before your hips quickened.

you’re slow - lustfully torturing toji with your hips. his cock’s pumping in and out of your cunt, feeling you freely writhe around him.

you taste sweet, and he tilts his head back as both crowns of teeth clash at full force. the constant stretch of his hooked cock never fails to leave you speechless as you whisper out soft moans against his thin lips.

“mmph-” toji gruffs, the bed’s creaking turning into mere wails.

you’re bouncing on him now, still having a hand wrapped around his throat before flicking your tongue against his. toji smacks your ass, then he does it again, and again.

hearing your shrilling whines makes him squeeze the fat of your flesh, eagle-spreading his legs even wider like the slut he was.

his body’s just overly glossed with sweat, it shines down his buff physique before you slowly pull away from him. slimy tangled strands of saliva tear away from each lip as toji stares at you.

it’s a mere pout on his lips before he huffs, tilting his head back. “ ‘m gonnaaa fuckin’ cummm,” he blurts in a thick tone, dragging out his elongated words due to your pussy making it hard for him to think straight. “hah- y’er hips are evil, sugar. fuck, gonna milk me.”

as he sucks in a honed sharp breath, feeling the weight of your hips swerve uncontrollably in hypnotizing arcs, toji slips out a whine.

it’s subtle, and you had to really listen to hear his husky tone pitch but you heard it. you watch as the veins in his neck pop, and as you’re still choking him, it turns him on even more.

his cock throbs fiercely inside of you, smacking against each gummy spot that’s located in your sloppy, spongy walls. you had a grip that he just couldn’t get enough of. it was cute how your hand could barely fit all the way around his thick neck anyway, but nonetheless—

toji ends up shooting blanks abruptly, a gruff groan leaving past his lips once he feels himself preparing to shoot inside of you. with your panties still glued to the sides of your thighs, you let off another bundle of exaggerated moans, slowing your pace down.

“f- fuck,” you inhale, feeling toji dig his nails into your left ass cheek. he’s clenching down his tense jaw tightly, emerald eyes flickering back for a moment as his mouth remains slightly agape.

once his milky knot’s pooling its way deep into the barrier of your womb, you let off a shuddering whine. “toji, fill me up, mhm- don’t stop.”

“ugh-” he groans, feeling the weight of his sack start to gradually shrivel up inside of you. the sight of you straddling him was enough to make him cum alone.

toji’s entire body felt hot - scorching, but compared to the dryness of his throat was an entirely different story..

he’s got so much, wads ‘n clods of creamy, gooey seed that plugs its way into your cunt.

you finally sit still, listening to the loud sloshes of all pounds of flesh grinding together. toji’s chest heaves in and out as he’s still got a hand glued to your ass, feeling his cock excessively droooool out such creamy lumps of cum.

“s- sugar,” and his sleazy smile returns on his lips again. toji’s fucked dumb just as much as you were, and you could tell because of how droopy and half-open his eyes were. “heh, got some nerve m- milkin’ me like that. some hah- nerve.”

“you don’t seem so cocky now, toji.” you hum, bringing a chaste kiss against his lips. a stocky arm wraps around your waist before his eyes close, locking lips with you for the final time, hungrily swallowing his low grunts whilst the two of you exchange saliva.

“girl whatever,” he grumbled with sass, and he was still cumming. you let off a soft moan, feeling a brief pudge from just how much he dumped into your pussy. you were leaking from the sides of your thighs, streams of frothy white tearing from each lip. toji licks against your lips before hearing your phone interrupt the two of you with a loud, screeching ‘beeeep!’ with a snarl, he huffs. “the fuck is that?”

you turn toward the side of the bed, reaching for your phone. “my phone, hold on-” and as he’s still plugged into you fully, keeping your walls tight ‘n snug with not only his shaft but his enormous sticky load, you squint. “huh..” and it’s a notification from the app ‘RENT-A-DILF!’

“what’s it say? hah- better be important,” toji mumbles, letting off a soft groan from the feeling of your hips shifting against him.

“ooh. it says . . i matched with a new character,” you reply, taking a moment to scroll your thumb down the brightly pink screen.

it displayed a new character that must’ve been added to the roster a few minutes ago.

as your eyes skim at the coral-pink description box, it mentions in bold how he’s not exactly a dilf like the other male leads….. buuuut the catch was that he was dashingly handsome.

and to be honest, the more you stared at the character with a lit cigarette sticking out of his lips and was draped in a jet-black tuxedo.. yeah, he was pretty hot.

“hm. says his name is shiu kong,” and you look back at toji who’s got a look of literal disgust. “what? do you know him?”

“………………….”

[midnightbluebells03]

Request: The reader and ellie are friends, but the reader doesn't know if she likes girls or not, so ellie offers to let her experiment on her. Friends to lovers and mutual pining. 💓 a happy ending, preferably. Up to you whether or not to include smut!

FALLING INTO ME

CW - hair pulling, mentions of past experiences with men, oral (R receiving), thigh grinding

WC - about 2k - no outbreak AU

Leave me Ellie or Abby requests x

This was wrong right? Infront of you your childhood best friend Ellie sits crossed legged on her bed. The faded plaid sheets that have replaced dinosaurs from her youth clutched in your unforgiving grasp.

"We don't have to do anything" she says barely above a whisper. Like she's afraid to even suggest it. The air is tight, hot, like someone lit a fire and let the smoke invade the room. But there's Ellie. Her hand sitting on your thigh as her thumb swipes across bare skin, the floral sleep shorts you had opteded for letting her trace over it with no barrier. Her back pressed to the headboard like it's the only thing keeping her sitting upright. "I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry". Her hand retreats with a slight tremble.

Just ten minutes ago you were sharing a bottle of some cheap wine Ellie had got from the corner store. Giggling and reminiscing on your intertwined lives, awkward teen phases that melted into adulthood when you let it slip.

You think you might like girls.

Of course you weren't sure, you'd never done anything with a girl, but all your experiences with boys just felt empty. Felt like a chore more than fun. And who better to tell than Ellie? She had been out for years, having had her fair share of girlfriends despite her slightly awkward attitude at times. When the word 'experiment' left your lips you saw a glint in her eyes.

It made her pause, wipe her mouth with the back of her hand and place the bottle onto the nightstand. Making space for it amongst the clutter. The way she looked at you made you tilt your head in confusion, until she opened her mouth.

"You could experiment with me"

"Ellie" you finally speak up, grasping her wrist gently to halt her movement. Fingers grazing over her tattoo and making her gaze snap from the floor to your eyes. God she did really have the prettiest eyes. You'd always thought so, oftentimes comparing the hues to the fresh grass during summer or the moss growing deep in your parents garden. "I want to"

"Yeah?" She looks like she doesn't believe you, eyebrows slightly knitted together. You swallow hard before nodding, Ellie beckons you over with her hand. "Cm'here" when you inch closer you can't help but watch how Ellie flicks her tounge over her slightly chapped lips. Feeling her slowly move to hold onto your waist as you start to straddle her lap while your hands rest on her shoulders. "If you want to stop just tell me okay?"

"Promise" you feel your heart speed up as Ellie leans in. Far enough where you could kiss her but she let's you make the choice. So you do. Pressing your lips to hers and letting your eyes flutter shut.

And it makes it feel like a firework has went off in your chest.

The two of you mesh together like puzzle pieces, soft and slow while your mind races with a million thoughts. You can feel how Ellie is holding back, her hands not moving from their position on your waist. But after a few minutes when you rock your hips forward slightly you could almost swear she groans into your mouth. So you do it again, making her pull back from the kiss.

"Can I touch you?" She was always like this, always asking a million question. Things like if you wanted the last slice of pizza or what movie to put on. She always let you take the lead, like she was afraid of making the wrong choice. You nod but she just chuckles softly. "Words darling" it makes you want to clentch your thighs together, the way her her accent slips into that semi texan drawl that she picked up from Joel.

Your hands come over the top of hers, guding her up and under your tank top "Please Els"

Her fingers are calloused from the years of guitar, running up your skin slowly. Too slowly. But you don't want to complain, not with the way she's looking at you. Eyes following her hands as she pushes the fabric further up your body. You decide to speed it up a little. Taking the fabric in your own hands and pulling it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room.

Normally this is when you'd start to feel weird. Your body would almost stiffen and your brain would be flooded with thoughts of leaving. A deep guilt or twisted knot in your throat.

But not now.

Not with Ellie.

Instead your stomach tightens at how her eyes take you in. Slowly scanning over you like you're the most breath taking thing she's even seen. Her hands pause just before reaching your breasts, her pupils so blown her green eyes as almost black as she looks up at you.

"Take it off?" She whispers. Her finger coming up to ghost over the band of your bra. You nod, reaching around with shaky hands to undo the clasp. Letting the bra fall onto Ellie's lap in the sliver of space between you two. She picks it up and moves it to the side, carefully. Like it was priceless even though it was the cheapest one you owned. Some target bralette that was on sale. It was nothing like how your previous partners treated your belongings. With them it was always thrown across the room like trash, nothing more than an obstacle to their pleasure. "You're so- you're just so- fuck" Ellie mumbles before chewing on her bottom lip. Her cheeks flushed the sweetest shade of pink as her hands slowly creep up your sides, inching towards your breasts.

"Ellie" you whine softly, the ache between your legs become worse with every passing second. Like you were dying for her to just touch you. It makes her lock eyes with you, as her thumb runs over your nipple. Making them stiffen and forcing a soft gasp from your lips.

"Just tell me what you want baby" her lips trail down your neck slowly as she mumbles into your skin. "I'll give you everything just tell me"

Your voice cracks slightly as you finally manage to say "Touch me"

You can feel as a slight smirk creeps onto her lips. Her fingers continuing to toy with your nipples. Just enough to make you needy but not enough to scratch the itch in your core. "I am". The faux innocence in her voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Ellie" you huff, feeling your face heat up at what you're about to say. "Fuck me please? Wanna know what it's like" with that Ellie leans into your neck fully while her hands keep on your chest, starting to place kisses down your skin as your head tips back. You can feel her smile as she moves further down, nipping slightly at your pulse point. Your hand moves to her hair, gripping softly while your hips uncontrollably start to rock against her. Desperate for any friction. Ellie pulls back but before you can complain she taps your hip.

"Straddle my thigh" you tilt you head confused but she gives you a smile before brushing a lose strand of hair out your face. "Trust me". So you do what she's asks, shifting until your legs are either side of her thigh. Ellie brings her hands to your hips, starting to steadily rock you against her. You gasp then moan softly. Almost teary eyed at finally getting some real touch from her. Even if it's clad by several layers of fabric. "See? How's that feel?"

"Good" you say with a shaky voice as Ellie sets your pace. Guiding you with a tight grip. "Feels good Ellie fuck"

"Mm" she coos softly, kissing over your collarbones before nipping at the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet. "Just gotta get you ready yeah? Get you all wet for when I fuck you so good you'll forget about all the guys that couldn't make you cum". Her lips move down to your hardened nipples, wrapping around one of them as you throw you head back in pleasure.

Now this Ellie?

This was a whole new person. Like her awkward shell broke away and left someone who you were going to be thinking about forever. Suddenly all the girls she managed to get with make sense, because she's hardly touched you and you're soaking through your panties.

"Fuck" your hands tighten on her shoulders as her tounge rolls over your nipple. You still your hips, almost afraid that she'll make you cum just from this and that makes her pause. Detaching from you with a confused look.

Her eyebrows knit together and her hand comes up to cup your hot cheek. "You okay?"

Maybe it's the wine, maybe it's the years of subtle crushing. Or maybe it's the way your almost certain there's a wet patch on Ellie's pyjama bottoms but you can't help stumbling out. "Fuck me Ellie"

Her hand snakes back down to your hip and she flips you over, making you squeal as your back hits the sheets. A slight giggle leaving your lips before Ellie crashes hers with yours. Her hand moving down your stomach to the band of your shorts. She pulls back but you don't give her a a chance to ask, already pulling off your shorts and panties. Kicking them onto the floor as Ellie moves down to between your legs.

"What you doing?" You ask with a slight tilt to your head, propping yourself onto your elbows to look down at her.

"What's it looks like?" She asks with a slight chuckle, starting to pepper kisses up your inner thighs but pausing before reaching your dripping pussy. "What? No one eat you out before?". Her smile fades when you shake your head, eyes darting between you and the sight before her. "That's just criminal dude"

Before you can comment on the fact she's just called you dude her tounge licks a fat strip through your folds. Making you gasp and grip the sheets. Skilled tounge circling your clit while her eyes stay focused on you. With a certain flick your hand flies to grab onto her auburn locks, tugging from the root as Ellie moans into you.eyes fluttering shut as your hips start to rutt against her face, changing a high you've never even come close to with others.

"Ellie" you whine as your back arches, soft pants filling the room as her hands creep up your hips and pull you closer. Making you moan so loudly you're almost certain anyone walking by outside would've heard. "Fuck, fuck, Els- gonna-!". Ellie doesn't falter, doesn't give you a second to breath as your orgasm rushes through you. Hips desperately trying to escape Ellie's grasp as she works you through it, no sign of caring about the way your thighs clamp around her head unforgivingly.

By the time she pulls away to lick your slick from her lips your brain is fuzzy. Staring up at the same ceiling you helped pull glow in the dark stickers off as Ellie taps your shin.

"You...you okay?" Her voice sounds so small. You finally manage to hold yourself up to look at her. Lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them and face hot to the touch.

"That...Els that-" your words get caught in your throat so instead you reach for the collar of her shirt. Pulling her up until your lips crash together, the taste of yourself filling your mouth as Ellie places a hand on the back of your neck.

When you two part she gives you a cocky smile. Gliding her fingers across your cheek before moving the loose babyhairs out of your face. "I'm gonna take that as a five star review then?"

You giggle before fake thinking. "Hmm I don't know Els think I need to try it again, yknow get all the data".

She nods with pursed lips, a serious expression taking over her face. "For science".

"For science".

[derekhighwaytf]

Welcome to the Team, Bro

TW: Misogyny, Homophobia

Your twenty-first birthday had been going absolutely perfect. Of course, you’d surrounded yourself with all your closest friends, all girls, obvi.  Drunk off cheap grocery store champagne being sipped out of red solo cups, you all continued laughing and enjoying your annual birthday roast, regardless of how uncomfortable everyone was stuffed onto your small college apartment couch. It was all in the name of light-hearted fun—typical jokes about how you wear the tightest of clothes, how you seem to have retained more Sex and the City quotes than anyone else alive, and of course, your nonexistent love life with guys. The usual, nothing that cut too deep. You laughed along, leaning back in your chair, feeling comfortable and safe being with your gal pals.

But then the door swung open, and Levi, Jessica’s ultra jock boyfriend, walks in. The room goes completely silent for just a second, the atmosphere shifting rapidly. Levi, an absolute douchebro, is the kind of frat guy who dominated a space just by existing. Tall, muscular, and that same cocky grin permanently plastered on his face. He saunters into your living room like it was his own frat house.

"Hey, birthday boy!" Jessica teases, giving you a nudge. "Levi asked me if he could take a turn roasting you. He says it’s good practice for his stand-up career.  Can you please let him go up?  I promise he won’t say anything too horrible."

You blink. ‘What on earth could Levi even say?  He doesn’t even know me?!’ you think to yourself. The other girls exchanged worried glances. The guy’s not exactly known for being subtle or sensitive, but before you can protest, Levi stepped towards the middle of the room, cracking his knuckles as he sized you up.

"So this is our little birthday bitch, huh?" His voice booms, loud and commanding. He stands in front of you, creepily grinning as he looks you up and down your skinny, twinkish frame. "Man, look at you. You’re such a fucking stick. Bet you couldn’t lift up a five pound weight, even if your life depended on it. What, a gust of wind gonna blow you over, fag?"

The girls laugh sporadically, forcing a chuckle just to try and relieve the tension. But as the words leave Levi’s mouth, a hot, uncomfortable sensation ripples through your body, and out of nowhere, you feel a tightness push itself against your pale skin. You glance down and your eyes widen—your biceps are swelling, your pecs thickening themselves into two smooth mounds of man meat. Muscles you’ve never even fathomed having in your life start to form, bulging out of your once-slender frame. Your shirt strains at the seams as your chest broadens to it’s sides, your chest pushing forward until they’re massive, rock-hard slabs, rivaling the tits of your girlfriends.

"Whoa, dude... what the hell are you saying, man?" you mutter, your voice suddenly much, much deeper, almost as deep as Levi’s.

The girls gasp, their eyes widening in shock, but Levi just keeps going, pretending to be unaware of what’s happening to the poor boy.

"But you know what?" Levi grins, his tone dripping with smugness. "I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s so obsessed with looking good that you wouldn’t even know what it means to get truly dirty, huh? Probably shower three times a day, all prim and proper. Nah, man. A real dude doesn’t give a shit about smelling fresh.  Real men smell like bulls.”

As soon as he says it, a wave of heat rolls through you again. This time, it’s not just gonna stay inside yourself, no. It’s... in your gut. A thick, rumbling pressure builds up more and more inside you, and before you can stop it, a loud, wet burp escapes your mouth. 

BRRRRRRRP!!

The girls squeal in disgust, but it doesn’t stop there. A loud, long fart rips through the air, and the smell is rank—sweaty, cheese, and 100% pure man odor.

PFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT!

Your armpits start to sweat profusely, staining your rapidly shrinking tank top shirt, and the once-fresh Polo cologne you had on is completely overpowered by the raw, animal scent of your dick stink. You can feel your skin getting greasy, and when you scratch your balls—without even thinking about it—they itch more, like you haven’t showered in days and you can’t help but touch it more and more.

"Ugh, gross!" one of the girls groans, wrinkling her nose. But as she pulls away, her eyes, they…change. Like she can’t stop glancing at your new Adonis body, completely disregarding, maybe even enjoying the smell. And she’s not the only one. All your former “gal pals” are starting to shake and whisper amongst themselves, their giggles turning into flirtatious murmurs, their shirts opening up as if he thermostat had been turned up to a hundred.

Levi leans in closer, his grin growing wider. "But hey, it’s not just about the looks, right? I bet this little fucker still can’t get laid to save his life. Probably jerks off to Tumblr stories every night instead of actually getting some pussy. Pfft. Bet he couldn’t handle a real girl if he tried."

Something snaps in your formerly gold star brain. You’ve always been gay, but now, that feels... weird. Incorrect.  Immoral.  Suddenly, the thought of even just hugging another guy seems wrong, as if you were worried you could catch gayness. Your eyes flicker over to Jessica and the others, and a new heat ignites inside your groin. Your mouth waters at the sight of your friend’s curves, their massive cleavage, their clean shaven legs. You want to be inside them. You need to be.

Memories shift. Nights spent dreaming about guys and writing fanfictions about male celebrities blur and twist into hazy recollections of fucking girls—lots of girls. So many, you couldn’t even remember one of their names.  You can taste their pussies, hear their moans. Your cock twitches in your pants, straining against the fabric of your newly materialized gym shorts as you stare at the girls who used to be just your friends. Now, they’re more than that. They’re... opportunities.  Sluts, ready for the taking.

"Fuck you asshole, I get laid all the fuckin’ time," you hear yourself shout, your voice deeper, more arrogant, your words rolling out in laughter like they’ve always been true. The girls giggle, blushing and shooting you lingering glances, clearly wanting your dick in their mouths. All of them. And in the pit of your stomach, you know they’ll all be yours by the end of the night.

Levi laughs, clapping you on the back. "Now that’s more like it, stud!" He steps back, crossing his arms, admiring his work "But let’s be real, this guy just thinks far too much, huh? He’s always overanalyzing shit, worrying about dumb stuff. A real bro doesn’t waste his time thinking. Just acts. Bet this guy’s head is still full of that nerdy fag crap."

You feel a sharp, dull shot of pain go through your head like a bullet, as if half of it is being yanked out. Your vision swims around the transforming frat room of breasts, and suddenly, it’s hard to think—like there’s a deep fog settling over your brain, clouding everything, mushing it into a few simple desires. The things you once knew—your studies, your hobbies, your passions—fade away, replaced by simpler, more immediate thoughts. Working out. Fucking. Drinking beer. All the things that matter to a real man.

The last thing to go is the memory of who you used to be. That skinny, smart, gay kid? Gone. Replaced by the image of you as a dumb, horny jock, the kind of guy who lives for the gym and pussy. The kind of guy who doesn’t need to think—because he already knows he’s the shit.

You blink, grinning stupidly at Levi, feeling the last vestiges of your old self disappear. "Yo, bro, I ain’t no faggot. Hey, where the fuck’s the beer at? We gotta get shwasted, man."

The girls are all over you now, practically throwing themselves at you. And why wouldn’t they? You’re hot as fuck, and you need to dump your cum in their needy holes.  You’re gonna make these formally open-minded liberal intellectuals into perfect American mothers.

"That’s my boy," Levi laughs, handing you a beer. "Welcome to the team, bro."

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 02. LOST IN TIME AND SPACE

a/n: logan angst with this fic is all i've been thinking about. mainly because he's the kind of man to swallow all of his feelings until it eventually kills him. so that's super fun to work with. and that scenario is basically this entire chapter. so please root for him, but also know he's not even close to dealing with his trauma. also the x-men timeline remains convoluted as fuck, so if the past of the logan who died doesn't make sense it is what it is. this is fanfic and we're all here to fuck him.

summary: the past is a thing he couldn't ignore. yet he still tried. and when the opportunity to spend a day with you utterly alone arises, he realizes that perhaps he doesn't want to forget about what brought him here.

word count: 6.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck, some fluff, grieving a past he can never have back, logan goes through it, kissing, he's horny, me slightly abusing my literature degree, heartache, panic attacks.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Logan never liked when the city fell silent. He hated the city in general. It unnerved him; scratched angrily against his chest until he couldn't find the peace he strived for. The city at night was filled with small noises—bangs in the distance, shouts of drunks wasted in the streets, and people finally turning in for the night.

They reminded him of the wars, the echoey expanse of nothing. Where every sound set his teeth on edge.

The cheap leather fabric of the couch stuck to his skin as he turned. He shoved his body into a standing position—his hands curling into fists. His skin remained sticky with a thin layer of sweat which only served to incense him further. Given the apartment's shitty air system, he'd be struggling through this for most of the summer. A fact he tried his best to ignore in the hopes that the fall weather would reveal itself sooner.

With a groan, he stripped himself of the thin tank top that clung to his skin. It didn't help to ease the humidity that hung in the air. It barely helped to cool off his body. But he'd take what he could get when what he could get was so little.

Wade's snoring echoed through the thin walls as he stood there, his body begging for a bit of sleep. Even if his mind refused to shut off. Images of you played through his head on a loop. The past was shadowed in pain, memories dipped in a venom he once wished would kill him eventually. Yet seeing you yesterday—a version that remained untouched by the depravity of what already happened—launched him back into a time that never seemed to be very far behind.

"You weren't there! And they needed you."

Silver ebbed from his knuckles as he faced the window—eyes shut and chest heaving. There was no question the sweat came from the humidity in the air. The cold chill along his spine however stemmed from you.

"You're not the Wolverine Logan. You're just a disappointment."

He fought the snarl that worked its way up his throat. A heavy pounding began to form at the front of his head. A drum he couldn't escape.

"Live with that."

If he opened his eyes. If he refused to give the memories even an inch of space in his mind. He'd have caught you standing there rummaging in the kitchen. A mug of tea forgotten on the counter the second you caught a glimpse of him getting up from the couch. You tugged at your sleep shorts as you stumbled towards the window—eyes heavy with sleep that simply wouldn't come.

Most nights it was easy. Long days at work left you utterly exhausted. To a point where staying awake felt odd and incomplete.

Tonight felt like hell.

No matter how many times you tossed and turned, you couldn't get the thoughts to settle. And all of them seemed to filter their way back to the man who currently faced you—his eyes shut and fists adorned with silver claws that slowly slid their way to freedom. You nearly dropped your kettle when he tore off his shirt, revealing sweat slicked skin lit up by the streetlights outside.

If you were braver you'd ask him to come over, join you in a sleepless night. But he had yet to see you standing there and you weren't one to draw attention to yourself.

So you stood and watched as he fought with whatever must have woken him up so late in the night. You witnessed his battle and wished you could be the one helping him. Maybe then he'd finally fall asleep soundlessly. His mind clear—body free of phantom aches from injuries that still haunted him. He may heal incredibly fast, but the mind...that took far too long to piece itself back together.

Before you could turn away, back to your now cold mug of tea, his eyes opened. Fixating immediately on your form in the window.

Few people in his life were able to calm the thunderous storms he weathered in his own mind. Jean and Charles did what they could. They brought back what he once thought was lost forever. Even you attempted to ease him from what he lived through—what he endured.

But that seemed to be the one thing your variant self was unable to comprehend.

He didn't need someone to fix him. He wanted someone to see him. To understand that there was no cure for a person this broken, no easy way out when things got this bad. He stood before you as a man riddled with far too much—scars that you'd never be able to see—yet he could see no hesitation in your eyes.

Something pulled at his stomach at the sight of you in small shorts and a tank top. Your skin exposed to the city as you watched him carefully. You analyzed him in a way that didn't make him want to put up a facade. And he found he liked it when you looked at him like this; with a burning need to know more clear in your gaze.

Your eyes trailed up his stomach, lingering on the hair that dipped down into his sweats. He wanted you to be here. Or him to be there. The location didn't matter as long as he could reach out and touch you—feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.

Minutes passed before your gaze found his face and Logan felt an itch in his body at the notion that you were fascinated by him. That even in a different universe with completely different memories, you couldn't help but be drawn to the man he was.

The horror of destroying another version of you should have made him want to turn away from the window.

Then you smiled.

A slow sleepy grin that lit up your face. You probably didn't think anything of it—simply a small offer of kindness in your shared sleepless night. Logan however swallowed it down as if you'd given him the best tasting whiskey on this planet. His chest tightened, head dazed as you stood there looking with enough reverence to kill him.

If only he could see the way your insides melted at the sight of him smiling back. The thoughts of lust and like racing through your mind the longer you stood there.

Eventually the sun would come up, you'd be called to work, and this would become a brief passing memory you'd both hold onto down the road.

Until that moment though you remained in this spot. Fighting the drowsiness for a chance to watch him a bit longer. To trace your eyes along his body and soak in the expressions that played across his weary face.

You could feel the prick of sleep in your eyes, your body dizzy as it begged for you to finally give in and crawl back into bed. Yet how could you leave him there? How could you walk away?

He seemed to catch the way you bit back a yawn and chuckled. Pressing his hand to the warm window, he nodded at you. To anyone else on the street it might look nonsensical—comical even. To you his message was loud and clear: Go to bed and I'll be here in the morning. I promise.

Reluctance yanked at your heart when he nodded again, his hand falling back to his side. Yet no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself awake—if only to steal another second of his gaze on your body—you knew it was futile. Fighting sleep never went well in the morning when coffee was your only salvation. With another smile, you waved slightly—pressing your hand to the window briefly as if to respond to his silence with some of your own.

Sleep well. I'll find you in the morning. I promise.

Logan woke up to the blaring horn of a taxi right outside. The shout of a man bounced off the buildings, cussing about traffic and for someone to get the fuck out of his way. He groaned, turning to his side in the hopes of catching another thirty minutes. But the city was alive and thrumming with its own heart beat.

To others the echo might have been familiar—peaceful.

To Logan it was like nails being dragged along a chalkboard.

"I fuckin' hate this city," he growled, getting to his feet and snatching his tank top from where he'd left it last night.

Surprisingly the apartment rang out with a sound he had yet to experience in this place. Silence. He peeked in the bedrooms briefly, expecting to find Wade still passed out. An empty room was all that greeted him—the fucking stuffed unicorn propped up perfectly on a surprisingly made bed. There was only one reason Wade tidied up his room.

Vanessa.

She was coming by here or Wade was going with her. Either way Logan didn't want to be around to hear what came next. He'd been privy to one too many nights of Wade reconciling his differences with Vanessa and all of them ended with Logan's head beneath a pillow. That or he snuck out to wander the city at night until he finally returned to a quiet apartment.

For a brief moment he wondered if he could find you at your place; his eyes settled on the view of your window across the one way street. The lights looked off, the living room empty. And he craved to know where in this city you disappeared to during the day. Where did you work?

Would you mind if he visited you there? If he took some time to hear your voice, see your smile.

He grabbed the shitty coffee bag that was tossed on the counter. No doubt due to Wade making some this morning. The machine was old, nearly broken, but it would make do for the time being. A neon yellow sticky note was stuck to the top—the scrawl of Wade's handwriting familiar.

Good morning peanut! Coffee is hot like you. Don't call me. Don't beep me. Because you don't need to reach me today. If you do, I'm at Ness's scoring for tens all across the board. I'm talking the head—

Logan groaned, crumpling the note and tossing it on the counter. Knowing information that Wade would probably tell him anyways wasn't how he wanted to start his afternoon. The cabinet creaked as he opened it, the plain blue mug he claimed as his sat in the front.

Another yellow sticky attached to it.

OF CHAMPIONS. I knew you wouldn't finish reading the note you gorgeous Canadian/Australian bastard.

P.S. Sweet angel's number. I was told to give it to you.

P.P.S. GET. SOME. (For the both of us.)

A crude drawing of Deadpool fucking the air was scribbled in the corner. The details were far too graphic for him to look at longer than a few seconds. Logan would have tossed the entire mug in the trash, but your number enticed him to stick it to the fridge as he made coffee strong enough to make the hair stand up on his arms. He glanced at it every few minutes, tracing the numbers as he considered what this meant.

Was this you telling him in simple terms that you wanted to get to know him? That his past and whatever he buried was something you wanted to learn.

His gaze burned a hole into the yellow paper as he drank his coffee, his mind racing at the possibility of speaking to you today. Some cash was stowed in the trunk Laura dragged from the previous Logan's home. Her claim was that he deserved to have it. Since he might have understood what it meant more than she did.

From what he could tell this universe's Logan was saving up for something—the wad of cash in the bottom of the trunk remained enough for him to get by until he found a stable place to set up a home. Somewhere near the mansion that still existed. He wasn't prepared to be a part of that life again just yet, but that remained the only spot that felt like home to him.

Even in a different universe.

Snatching the note off the fridge he grabbed his flannel, boots, and enough cash to last through the day. He had no location in mind. But knowing you wanted to spend time with him became the motivator he needed to actually leave the apartment.

The city was bursting with life—sounds filling the air as if it would replace the oxygen they consumed. He did what he could to ignore it. Slipping past people with ease, his eyes fixed on the small store that sat on the corner. He debated on ordering from the cafe across the street, wondering if you liked the place. If you came here for coffee and breakfast on days off.

He made a note to ask.

Thankfully the shop wasn't crowded with people—a shitty pop song blasted over the speakers. One he knew Wade would play to piss off your next door neighbors. Whether or not you actually liked Wade's music taste never crossed his mind. Or did you go along with it? Willing to do what it took to make them suffer.

"Just this," he grunted, tossing enough cash down to cover the bill and then some.

The burner phone was small in his palm as he yanked it out of the box and flipped it on. He didn't bother with getting an actual phone. What the fuck did he need that for? But this...he could do to make you entering his life a bit easier.

Every part of him screamed to push you away—make you hate him—but for the first time in his life, Logan didn't listen.

The shop door swung shut behind him as he dug out the sticky note, punching your number in carefully to not miss a single digit. Somehow in the midst of chaos, he was able to shut off the city noise when the phone began to ring. Half of him expected you not to answer. It was the middle of the day, you were at work, and this was probably more a hindrance than anything else.

Your voice filtering through the small speaker put his worries at ease within seconds.

"Hello?"

His heart jumped as he exhaled. "I hear you gave Wade directions this morning."

"Logan?" you asked, voice louder than before. The echo of someone shushing you came through, making him smile.

"Hey Honey."

A shaky breath left your lips. Logan felt his stomach clench at the realization you liked when he called you that.

"I didn't know you had a phone," you replied, much softer than before. "Wade told me you were too old for technology."

"Don't listen to anything that mouth tells you."

You laughed, breathy and cute, and he bit back a groan at the sound. "I'm glad he was wrong."

"He normally is."

"Where are you today?" Shuffling and a door shutting caught his attention as your voice rose in volume again.

A horn went off beside him, piercing his hearing. "Standin' on the street."

"Near our places?"

Oh he liked the sound of that. "Mhm." Another soft breath reached his ears; he felt his body go warm. "Where are you today honey?"

"Work." If he could see through the call, he'd catch you smiling. How your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stop the embarrassing giggle that nearly spilled free. "Do you...um...do you want to see it?"

The words slammed into his chest like a truck. The innuendo nearly enough to make him drop to one knee here in the middle of the street. And suddenly Wade's note came back to his mind. The crude drawing flaring to life as he pictured you saying those exact words in an entirely different situation. If he was a better man his jeans wouldn't have tightened. If he was a better man he'd have ignored it altogether.

Logan wished he was a better man. You longed for him not to be.

He cleared his throat, his grip tightening around the phone. "Where?"

"New York Public Library."

Vaguely the directions came back to him from decades past. He wondered if the building sat in the same spot on this universe as his own. In a rush of words, you gave him some instruction. He agreed to be there as soon as he could.

"See you soon Logan." The excitement wasn't hard to pick from your voice. That still didn't stop him from trying.

"Wait–"

"Yes?"

He turned. "Rosemary's? You like their coffee?"

Another laugh escaped you in a breath and Logan felt the walls around his heart chip. "Love."

Twenty minutes later you were greeting him on the side of the building with a smile he felt down to his adamantium bones. A warm coffee was pressed into your hand, a sandwich tucked safely into a small paper bag in the other. For the entire afternoon he formulated things to say to you, stories to tell. Yet all that came now was an awkward smile and a greeting that made his chest burn uncomfortably.

You thought nothing of it. Even as you led him inside and asked him about his morning. The sight of him holding coffee and wearing a grin was enough for you to lose it a little. The breath knocking from your lungs, warmth spilling into your stomach.

"I didn't know what you wanted–"

Taking another sip, you grinned at the glimpse of red that dusted the tips of his ears. "I don't mind what you got."

A stain of soft pink remained on the cup; Logan's eyes attached to it within seconds. You could see the way his pupils dilated slightly—his throat bobbing at the sight of something so small and delicate. That didn't help the way your heart flipped whenever he was near. As if he'd taken control of all your emotions—all the baseline wants that you could normally ignore.

"What do you do here?" he rasped, focusing on the way you watched him. Though the glaze of sleep was gone from your eyes, the way you analyzed him still remained.

"Archives."

Unlocking another door, you led him down a flight of stairs. The elevator would have been the easier route, but he didn't possess a badge nor a library card. You were pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten one either way. So sneaking him in was the way to go until you could convince him otherwise. What you didn't know was that you could have asked anything of him—anything you wanted—and he'd agree without hesitation.

He followed close behind, unwilling to let you get a few feet away. As if he was drawn to you in ways that didn't seem possible.

"I work on making sure things are properly placed in the correct spot. Older books, newspapers from decades ago, stuff like that."

Humming, he watched as you opened the final door—letting him see the grand room that lay below filled with an infinite row of bookcases. Boxes that had yet to be gone through, files not placed properly, and piles of books that stacked on rows of tables. Each one contained a certain label of where they belonged.

"So a librarian?"

Laughing, you shut the door behind him with a soft click. "Kind of. I'm not working upstairs and handing out books like the actual librarians do. We hermits down in the basement prefer the term archivist."

"Hermits," he huffed. "You don't look like a hermit to me."

"Looks can be deceiving Logan."

That was a fact he knew too well. One that kept him up at night, replayed in his dreams without end. Oftentimes he wondered if he'd been the one to deceive. If his persona and reluctance to help gave others the impression that he was the man to turn to. The hero they needed. He never asked to be seen that way—never wanted it—yet when the time came...he couldn't run away from the truth.

The idea of telling you all this came to him last night as he watched you walk back to your room.

What stopped him was the image of the other you, grief stricken and horrified as he stumbled home from the bar.

"I have some questions for you." Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

The small table in the back was free of books and you took a seat, pulling your sandwich from the paper. He took the chair across from you, his legs bumping into yours as he tried to cram them in the small space. The apology was quick to land on his tongue. Although your smile and the feel of your ankle curving around his leg killed it instantaneously.

"I'm hoping you have some answers."

He swallowed thickly, ignoring the way you shifted—your knee brushing his. "Now that depends."

"On?"

"Are they easy questions?" He grinned at the way you spoke around your mouthful of food—intrigue lighting up your eyes.

You slid half the sandwich towards him, not pretending to see the way he tried to refuse. He took a bite when your foot jammed in his calf. A pointed look crossing your face as if to say: eat because I know you haven't.

"What am I like?"

He nearly choked on the bread. "Do you mean..."

With a nod, you grabbed another bite, oblivious to the way his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. His eyes fixed on the way your teeth sunk into the meal and oil spread at the corner of your mouth. Tearing the sandwich in half would have been the better option. Biting where he mouth was seemed to be what you liked better.

His insides stirred deliciously, heat forming at the way your lashes fluttered at the taste.

"The other me," you mumbled, giving him the rest. "You said we were friends." When he didn't respond you kept going. "Wade alluded that we might have been...more than friends."

Fucking Wade Wilson.

Logan leaned back, his hand curling into fists in his lap as he once again fought the urge to take off. "He sure likes to run his goddamn mouth."

Anxiety sparked in your chest and you fell silent. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to bring it up. Or even something to bring up. Yet curiosity always ate you alive—the idea of not knowing the full truth. And when Wade briefly said Logan was still pining over a version of you that didn't exist on this Earth, you tried not to let it consume you.

You fought against your baser instincts in the hopes that one day he'd tell you himself.

Then he showed up. Offering you coffee and friendship and possibly more.

How could you ignore it then?

You knew he was watching you, could feel the burn of his eyes along the side of your face. Silence echoed loudly in the room as the old wooden bookshelves creaked and the chatter of people upstairs began to filter down below.

"I'm sorry," you uttered, doing what you could to move past whatever this was. "I shouldn't have asked. We can go look at some stuff if you want. I have newspapers from the seventies you might want to see–"

"I loved you."

You froze, head whipping around to meet his solemn gaze.

"On my Earth you were mine." With a sigh, he leaned forward. "And I fucked it all up. No I didn't just fuck it up. I ruined you."

"Logan..." you breathed. "I'm not them."

"I know." Sorrow flooded his hazel eyes—the grief playing across his face like a film you shouldn't be watching. And for the first time...you saw the man Wade spoke about. The broken version of a Logan that was found in a bar wallowing on his own world. "But I can't do that to you again. I won't."

This wasn't an omission of the truth. Nor a confession of his greatest sins. This was a promise lined with the guilt of his past. Memories of a time you'd never witness played out in his mind and he longed to show them to you.

To give you a piece of what he once had with a version of you that loathed his existence now.

But that isn't why he happened upon you on this Earth. History would remain exactly as it was. He couldn't change that. However, this—whatever he shared with you now—he could keep safe. The promise he made so long ago might finally be shown the respect he never thought to give it before.

"Come with me," you said softly, standing with a hand outstretched for him to take.

With a hesitant breath, he wrapped his calloused palm around yours and let you take the lead.

Past bookshelves and rows of boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling, you stopped at a shelf marked with words he'd seen a thousand times before. X-MEN. You tugged a box free and carried it to the table behind you—the top flipping open with ease as he caught sight of the pile of papers within. A list was taped to the side of what this might contain. Names he knew, people that might still exist on this Earth.

"This is all we know about the Logan in this universe." You pulled out a file, a picture of his variant clipped on top. He was rugged—aged.  "It's not much, but it shows a bit of his past."

"Why are you showing me this?"

"So you can see what others see."

You handed him a photo of the X-Men. Jean and Scott stood on either side of Charles. Logan was off to the side, a cigar in his mouth and a cocksure grin on his lips. He hated the man before he knew him. Always hearing how fucking wonderful he was; how great a hero he used to be.

He selfishly wanted to be everything this version of himself was.

He wanted to be the hero he could never amount to.

"What happened to 'em?"

You glanced at the image, pulling another file out. The name punched the breath from his lungs as you flipped it open. JEAN GREY: ALIAS - PHOENIX. An image of her smiling at a lecture was pulled free—her hair red and down to her waist.

"I don't know much, because well Charles Xavier never disclosed information about the X-Men lightly. But...something happened to her. From what we know...Logan was the one to kill her."

The file fell on the table, his heart twisting violently in his chest as the words flooded his mind. He killed her. He killed Jean. The woman he once loved before you came into his life. Something severed in his body, the breath in his lungs was suddenly hard to come by. But the touch of your hand on his kept him from completely falling into that dark pit he fought to climb out of.

"He–" Logan sucked in a breath and shut his eyes to the image of Jean. "He killed her?"

You nodded, silent while he processed the information. Showing this to him wasn't an act of malice—he knew that. You didn't want him to suffer. You simply wanted to prove that the Logan that once existed wasn't the greatest to have ever lived. He was simply a man suffering the plight of guilt the universe handed him.

He had his own cross to bear. His own nightmares to fight through.

In some ways...they weren't so different.

"You're not the worst Logan," you admitted, letting him lean into you. "And he wasn't the best Logan." Your hand pressed to his cheek, eyes soft and warm. "He was just a man who was offered a terrible hand in life."

Logan huffed, his forehead finding yours as he breathed in your scent. "So you're sayin' I'm just a man?"

"I'm saying that the James Howlett in this universe probably thought he was the worst Logan too."

The words shouldn't have struck him the way they did. Their truth, louder than anything in this building. But the blunt and hardened reality stared him in the fucking face, and he had no choice but to meet it's gaze. The Logan of this world wasn't perfect. He fucked up. He ruined things. Yet he found a way to fix them. Put the pieces back together in order to obtain something that resembled the image of his life.

As much as he fought to claim he wasn't anything like the Logan that once walked this Earth.

He was finding it hard to see where they differed.

"Show me somethin' happy honey," he replied gruffly, his hand finding your hip with ease. "Show me somethin' you like."

The smile you rewarded him with placed some breath back into his chest. "What like books?"

"If that's what you love."

"I don't think we have enough time."

His hold on your hip tightened. "'M here all day."

"Yeah?" Turning away from him, you dug through the box. Down to the very bottom. "They found these at what they think is his grave."

Silver flashed in his vision before you were pressing a pair of dog tags into his hand. The name WOLVERINE was etched into the metal—its cold touch practically burned the skin of his palm. For years he thought he'd never see these again. A piece of his past he couldn't bring with him.

"I thought you'd want to have them."

"They're his," he croaked.

"And you're the Wolverine. They're as much yours as they were his."

Fingers closed around them as the chains dangled from his hand, and Logan felt his heart place another bit back into the correct spot. He never believed he belonged with people. Never wanted to hurt them. Yet life continued to surprise him. The metal was familiar to his touch. Years of toying with them, of having their comfort on his chest, kept him sane at some points. It helped to remind him of who he was.

Without even realizing it...you gave that back to him.

He wanted to tell you how much this meant. How grateful he felt. But he was never good with words.

So he pressed his lips to your cheek and let them linger there as heat pulsed in your body. The race of your heart made him grin. Simply knowing you liked him hiked up his ego in ways he didn't need at a time like this. But like the Logan that came before...he was a sucker when it came to resisting the aspect of love.

"Show me around bub."

You slid your hand into his, your lips nearly brushing as you turned to catch his gaze. "Okay."

"Why work there?"

The city at night exuded a different kind of energy that you frequently craved during the day. A fun lightness that normally hit when the clock struck six p.m. and people were finally out of work. You were allowed to leave earlier than expected due to a birthday gathering of coworkers going on downtown.

An invitation was offered. Until they saw Logan standing behind you and your plans for the night became clear.

"I love history." He offered to walk you home. You accepted on the single condition that he'd stay for dinner. "How humanity went from one thing to the next and so on."

He scoffed and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you out of the way of someone barreling by. "You don't have to explain that part to me bub. You're lookin' at a man who lived it."

"Did you?" The look you gave him had the feelings of want he pushed down earlier rearing their head. "Actually live through it?"

"I was born in 1832."

With a gasp, you clutched his arm. "Were you really?" you exclaimed. "That means you saw so much of history. Things we might not have written down."

And suddenly within moments...there you were from his world. Bright and beautiful and in love with the past. At first he believed it was due to your abilities; now he understood that's just who you were deep down. Always in love with what you couldn't fully figure out—the past you could see if you managed to travel back far enough.

"You have to let me pick your brain for facts."

He tugged you closer, stopping off to the side of the busy street, until you were stuck in his hold with nowhere to look but up at him. "Picking my brain ain't gonna be fun honey."

Your eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. "I disagree."

"You forget. Different universe. The history I know might be different from the one you know."

No matter how hard you tried, you could never hide the disappointment that flooded your eyes. "I'm sure it's not that different."

"Hm." He pressed a thumb to the top of your cheekbone, struck by how soft your skin felt beneath his. "Why don't you tell me yours. And then maybe I'll tell you mine."

The double entendre was layered in the lust that clouded his vision—the need that burned in his stomach. Logan hoped you understood it. Could see how much he ached for you. How you affected him since he first caught a glimpse of you yesterday. And seeing your pupils dilate, your chest heaving slightly, made his swell with pride. Saliva filled his mouth at the thought of one day getting a taste of you, but the sound of a horn going off behind him shattered the moment.

You stepped back with a deep inhale, your hand still in his. Which only served to prove Logan's point.

He fucking hated the city.

"Dinner?" you breathed, voice raspy with that feeling you tried to fight against.

Logan managed to turn you inside out. Pulling exactly where he needed to expose your heart. That alone should have terrified you. Yet the thrill of knowing him, of seeing where this might lead, kept you enamored and wanting for more.

"Lead the way."

What plans you created and meal you planned to order were lost the second you ascended the stairs to your apartment and stood in front of your door. The silence of the building was deafening compared to the noise outside. So much so that every breath you took echoed loud against the shitty yellow stained walls. Logan could hear the thump of your heart as it rammed within your chest. Quickening the closer he stepped towards you.

You turned, your back to the door and eyes dazed—unfocused. "I can order something."

His nostrils flared as your familiar scent began to deepen, mix with the arousal that seeped through your body. "That could work."

"What do you like to eat?"

The smile he gave you could only be described as canine. Near feral. "Dangerous question honey."

"What do you–" Shock flashed in your eyes, heat spilling into your face as the words finally processed. "Oh."

Logan wasn't hungry in a way that might seem normal to you. He didn't want to taste you, he wanted to devour. To feel you in ways that would scare you shitless. He craved you potently—viscerally. And perhaps it would scare you off.

Although something told him it wouldn't.

Silence no longer felt all consuming and horrid when he took one more step, crowding you against your door. You should have kept the conversation going. Laughed it off with a flippant smile and an offer of real food. Though neither of you could give a shit about dinner. That fact became evident the second he cupped the back of your neck and slotted his lips against yours.

A moan of surprise tore from your throat and Logan let out a growl to match. He kissed you fervently. Lips pressed hard and hot against yours, tongue sliding along your teeth, and somehow it never felt like enough. He'd dreamed of this for years. For the taste of you again, the gentle grip of your hands that dug into his hair and pulled.

That alone sent a groan echoing down the hallway, his body colliding with yours as your back hit the door. Your teeth found his bottom lip while his hands slid down to your ass, gripping and tugging until you could feel the prominent bulge through the denim of his jeans.

"Logan," you gasped, your tongue meeting his with another sharp tug on hair.

He slammed a hand against the door beside your head, his hips rutting down as you met the movement with one of your own. You wanted to drag him inside. Needed to feel his bare skin on yours. But something pulled tight against your chest as he stuttered into the kiss. The unfamiliar sound of his claws sliding out and puncturing the wood of your door made you jump.

"Sorry," he muttered, sliding his lips down your throat—teeth nipping the vein. "Happens."

"You owe me a door." You sounded breathless.

He brought his lips back to yours with a fury you'd never experienced before. "I'll buy you a new one." Your hips dragged along his, nails digging into the hot skin on the back of his neck. "I’ll fuckin’ make you one," he snarled.

The thought of someone passing by, seeing you nearly held up against your door by a man who's claws were embedded in it, was laughable. Yet you couldn't stop wondering what would happen if you let this go further. If you allowed him to take you right here out in the open.

Logan could smell the way you dripped for him and it drove him fucking insane. His body begged him to keep going. To slam open the door and bury himself in you right there on your kitchen floor. The way you whined into his mouth, rubbing yourself along his crotch, told him you wanted the same.

And he might have done just that.

If they hadn't started.

They're dead because of you!

Memories flashed in his mind with a rage unlike the past few times. Your face, tear stained and rageful. The way you used your powers against him. Tried to kill him for what happened. It all came rushing back with a lungful of air that burned.

I hate you!

"Logan?" You pulled back slightly, hands cupping his face with enough care he could feel the sting of tears start to build. "Are you okay?"

It should've been you that died Logan. Not them.

He sucked in a breath, ripping himself away from and stumbling a few steps back. Fighting against the past wasn't new to him. He'd been broken by it before. But now he couldn't even enjoy the sight of you with swollen lips and ruffled clothes, because all he saw when he closed his eyes was the other you.

The one he broke.

"I'm fine." His voice was raspy as he choked out the words.

A need to help him rang through your body and Logan could see it. He knew how badly you wanted to come to him—to hold him. This simply wasn't your battle to fight. He refused to change that in any way.

Standing up straight, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. An apology for the actions he was about to take.

He only hoped you wouldn't hate him for it afterwards.

"We'll do dinner another night, honey."

"Logan–"

"Goodnight." Walking away from you felt as if he'd ripped a hole in his chest with an adamantium bullet. One that wouldn't heal like before.

The dog tags were now wrapped around his neck, choking him like a collar he couldn't free himself from. A reminder that even the Logan of this world was unable to stop himself from destroying the one he loved. That was the plight they carried.

Their greatest grief. The one thing they had in common.

This...he could accept.

[frogchiro]

So hear me out: it’s dark and very dingy in simons apartment, even more so when he’s go his equally as sleazy friends over. They sit around a rounded table with bottles of whiskey and beer (they are all very large they can drink plenty without feeling it) playing a card game and smoking. Only to hear frantic tapping on the door and a soft voice calling for Simon.

It’s you of course when he opens the door, scared and anxious and practically shaking, and it’s then that he sees what’s gotten you so frightened. There’s a strange man swaggering through the hallway after you slurring your name with a broken bottle in hand.

Simon tugs you into his apartment with a tank and closes the door behind you. He’s going to take care of the mean man who scared you so, but first, meet his old military buddies. They’ve been dying to meet you ;)

Oh my god yes :((

Simon's apartament is...just as dark, bleak and dingy as its owner and probably just like the rest of the building. Not all lights work, it's walls are chipping from the cheap plaster, the wallpaper is peeling off at the top, yellowing with age and cigarette smoke, the floor is creaky too; a very unpleasant, dark and cold place with few things intact and yes it becomes somehow even more dodgy when his ex-military friends arrive for poker and cheap alcohol.

He boasted a while ago that a cute girl moved in next door that's not a druggie or one that looks like a train wreck; it's clear that you don't belong here but you have few options and this is your best one. Tragic, really but that gives Simon an opportunity to stare and (discreetly) feel the pretty lady up. Since that time Gaz, Price and Johnny can't give up on you, often slurring after a few beers how they want to meet you and squeeze all the soft places.

Unknowingly to them, the opportunity to meet you came sooner than later when one cold night they were as usual gathered in Simon's dingy flat, playing poker and throwing around crude jokes when suddenly there came a soft knocking on the door with a voice calling out to Simon if he could please open up.

They shot up like bloodhounds even in their intoxicated states and they watched as the blonde walked to the door. There stood you, clad in those pretty pastel pink pajamas and a zip-up hoodie, trembling with tears in your eyes making the hairs on the back of Simon's neck stand up.

Before you could say anything there was a loud crash coming from the floor below and a loud, slurring voice calling out your name whoch made you jump and flinch in fright and without even asking what's going on, he pulled you roughly inside and closed the door with a bang.

You were clearly shaken up, stumbling over your words but he managed to put together something about this one pushy guy from the ground floor whom you helped out once and now he doesn't want to let you be.

Oh sweet girl how could he ever say no to you, especially in circumstances like this? Of course you can stay here, in fact he insists that you stay the rest of the night. It's Saturday tomorrow, you have off so one one will care if you sleep in a bit. Not to mention that his friends are here too! And they are so excited to meet you, you wouldn't say no to them right? Especially since they are all big, burly military men, they will surely protect you better than anyone!

You can hear various deep voices jeering and whooping, calling out to Simon to show them the little lost lamb and while you're still shaken from the events from outside, you feel like whatever haplens here isn't that much better, especially with the huge, scarred man's hand placed dangerously low on your back :((

[cindol]

Hm.. masc!mikasa and her pink gf.

Mikasa Ackerman x black fem reader

tagging: @liuhko @hoesluvshanti

tw: modern au, written in the hc format, fluff, small suggestive-ness, y/n is a lil dumb,

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts since May yall …. 😭 I just re-wrote it up a bit . srry if it’s a bit short !!

masc!mikasa who’s a total babe magnet to pink fem girls a lot. Her roster and ex’s are mostly just feminine pinky pink girls so it’s a surprise to nobody when she shows her new girlfriend y/n off to her friend group.

masc!mikasa was the yin to her pink hello kitty girlfriend’s yang, they were polar opposites but definitely worked. Y/n could handle mikasa’s calm and collected attitude always speaking for her sometimes at restaurants while mikasa could handle y/n’s excited extrovert personality, knowing just the right way to calm her down and listen to her.

Mikasa loved whenever y/n would coming running to show her new hello kitty charmed nails while mikasa sat on their couch with her legs spread. She gave a warm smile just touching the one hand looking at the new nails and kissing her hand saying a simple,”love them baby.” Her small compliments had a way of just making y/n melt, no matter how small.

Another way she could calm y/n down also is just listening to her and her rants. When y/n was pent up and just angry she’d listen and give her small opinions on it.

masc!mikasa matched y/n’s style perfectly also, she was the masc to y/n’s fem style. While mikasa wore nike socks and slides, tank tops with shorts and her hair tied up occasionally y/n always was wearing some pink mini skirt, a pink cami top or anything hello kitty inspired to match.

masc!mikasa loved to feed into her girlfriends pda especially with the funny cute TikTok’s she’d do with her. Letting y/n give her pink lipstick kisses all on her face and neck while she had her legs spread then the camera turning to y/n with a lipstick tube in her hand applying more lipstick.

masc!mikasa never makes y/n feel that she’s too clingy, even when she comes to mikasa asking. Mikasa just scoffs at what she says.”bullshit, don’t know what idiot made you feel like that but you’re never clingy. You’re just a lover girl baby.” That warms y/n’s heart.

masc!mikasa gets protective when she has y/n around certain men. She knows how some men can be perverted weirdos, especially when it came to sapphic women. She always made sure to watch them when they tried taking a peak under her skirt.

masc!mikasa likes teaching her girl self defense. Mikasa was proud in her ability to protect y/n but what would happen if she was never around? She feared for when y/n got in the hospital somehow or mugged so she was teaching her self defense.

“Cmon baby be serious, what if I was some burglar trying to mug you?” It just made y/n giggle at her girlfriend with a cheap mask on trying to steal the small purse she was holding.”if you were some burglar trying to mug me in a alleyway I’d just kiss ya to let me go baby!” She joked making mikasa just give into her antics and tackle her.

if y/n and masc!mikasa had an argument it wouldn’t last long. Y/n’s a huge crybaby, if mikasa even had a slightly mad tone she would get sad. Mikasa may not show it but she was exactly the same, as soon as y/n seemed hurt by her actions she was immediately trying to cheer her up or show how sorry she is.

masc!mikasa is the one who made y/n realize how toxic her family is in the first place and actually drop them. When y/n vented to her about her mother’s homophobia mikasa just had a sympathetic look.”you don’t deserve that baby, nobody deserves that.” She rubbed a hand on her arm to comfort her more.”if anything, my family will always be here when yours can’t. Levi always considers you family anyways”

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it’s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[taintedjeon]

──★ ˙ ̟ 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - jjk (m)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rockstar-vocalist!jk x groupie!reader (afab/she/her) 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: rockstar au 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, smut, porn-with-little-plot 𝐰𝐜: 4.1k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: omg here we go... bigdick!jk, bigsize!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, she isnt bratty but she pushes the right buttons, strong language ie swearing, use of nicknames (princess, babydoll, baby, slut, good girl), now for the gewwwd stuffs ;; kissing, making out, nipple sucking, spit kink, size kink, light petting, reader goes into sub space, choking/asphyxiation, jk has not 1 .... nOT TEW not T H R E E ;; but ✨ fOuR ✨ dick piercings jahsgdfjshdh!!! (1 prince albert n 3 foreskin piercings) — n for the sake of this story he isnt circumcised since plenty of ppl on this app like to make things like that a big deal… if u do; theres the block button ok thank u bye. —the use of piercings for sexual pleasure, multiple orgasms, jk comes inside, unprotected sex, standing sex, dirty talk, fingering (oc receiving), oral (oc receiving), face ridddding, she uses his nose to stimulate.

Backstage of the venue is cold, a juxtaposition to the warmth of the crowd you had been swarmed in moments ago. Now, your body ignites in flames as Jeongguk drags you through the commotion of people; his palm wrapped around your wrist tight. From sound engineers, lighting operators, bodyguards and technicians of all kinds, Jeongguk manages to skillfully weave you both successfully to the end of what felt like a never ending corridor before opening the last door on the left and pulling you inside.

You’re not given enough time to make aware of your surroundings before Jeongguk shakes off his leather jacket and pulls his vintage 1991 Skid Row band shirt over his head in that sexy manner men do — arms crossed, gripping the hem and effortlessly off his body. Removing the shirt messes around with his already sweat soaked mid length bob that he has been growing out. But yet, as the strands fall in disarray over his face, it still manages to make him effortlessly fuckable.

You can’t ignore either his body and the way it bulges in the correct places and curves and dips in the rest. It might have been only six months since you had seen Jeongguk last, but in those six months, he has filled in his body finely — both physically and visually.

Tattoos litter his right arm in pretty shapes, swirls, designs and lettering. Beautiful colours striking against emboldened blacks and whites. He sports two barbells on either side of his chest and you bite your lip as images from the last hook up fills your mind from when you had the opportunity to enjoy them in person.

Jeongguk isn’t oblivious to you taking him in; top to bottom, head to toe, and finally he does something about it. Your back is pushed up against the door and the sound of the lock latching behind you. Jeongguk’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his pillowy lips slightly chapped from the singer being on stage for the last hour and a half but that doesn’t stop you from melting into him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, giving you ample opportunity to deepen the kiss. The metal of the metal hugging is lip is cool against your warm skin. Your tongue runs along the seam of his bottom lip and he grants you access to tangle your tongue with his. The after taste of cheap beer and spearmint gum is welcomed as the pair of you turn the kiss from passionately soft to fierce, a sense of urgency creeping into the mix as you’re both aware that you both need to get off before someone comes searching for Jungkook for his encore set.

“Couldn’t help but notice you starin’ at me through the set,” Jeongguk smirks sexily, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

His hands roam all over your body as he kisses you hard. He starts at your shoulders, swiftly pulling down the thin straps of your tank top past the cups of your white lace bra before tugging the cups and feels as your tits release from the lace.

“M’sure plenty of girls were,” you’re quick to reply, voice airy with lust. 

Jeongguk breaks the kiss, saliva keeping your mouth connected before he snaps it with his deft fingers and then using them to run light, teasing circles over your hardened nipples.

“Maybe, but none that I actually want. Thought you were so fucking pretty…”

You shiver and you know it’s not from the temperature of the chilly room you’re both currently occupying.

Before you’re about to remind Jeongguk about the lack of time you both have, the dull hum of intermission music vibrates the tiny closet and his lips are on your throat and all words die on your tongue as you hiss out in pleasure.

“Sensitive, yeah?” He asks, his breath warm against your skin as he decorates your skin in tiny nips and sucks.

“Oh…yes,” you confirm, your lids fluttering shut as he continues his assault on your neck.

With shaking hands, your arms trail down to the belt loops of his leather pants and you hook your fingers through and use it to your advantage to tug him closer to you. The feeling of Jeongguk grinning against your skin at your obvious desperation for him urges him on. With ease, he slots his thigh in between your legs and uses his stance as an advantage to pry your legs further apart.

Working your own fingers on the heavy buckle of his belt as Jeongguk continues his teasing on your cunt, you manage to pull the leather in between your fingers to open him up. Jeongguk tilts your chin with his palm to continue his assault on your neck and you retaliate by slipping your hand underneath his pants. Your fingers come in contact with his hardened cock and Jeongguk bucks his hips further into your touch.

Your heart thrums against your ribs when you feel his fingers inch their way below the hem of your pleated skirt to press into the warm of your cunt.

“Warm and wet,” he whispers against the shell of your ear; his voice is enough to cause the small hairs on your arms to rise. You don’t stop the whine that falls from your tongue as he presses two digits harder against your pulsing clit. “And so fucking sensitive, just for me, pretty girl.”

You get lost in the sensation of him starting to rub you over the flimsy cloth at your cunt.

All your inhibitions are lost as your want for the vocalist grows. “Jeongguk, please,” you beg for more…beg for him.

“Fuck, yes, plead for me,” Jeongguk almost starts begging with you. “Plead for me just like you did in your videos you dirty girl. You’re so bad, huh? Sending videos of your creamy pussy whilst I’m rehearsing. Tell me, did you satisfy yourself? Or am I just too good at pleasing you?”

“No, Jeongguk, I-nothing c-could ever compare to you at all. I was only mmm-missing you, ahhh,” your voice trails off when you feel his thumb and pointer finger pinch at your clit, lightly twists.” Your body grows hot and electrified, sweat building a glistening sheen on your body at the tirade your body is going through.

It only lasts for the briefest of moments before Jeongguk stops playing with you and instead pulls your thong to the side and tucks it in between the juncture of your groin and thigh before running his fingers between your now exposed folds, feeling how soaked you are and slides a thick finger into your soft core.

“Fuuuuck, you’re treatin’ me fucking good tonight, doll,” his voice rasps and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you. With ease, Jeongguk props your leg over his shoulder and buries his head in between your legs and his tongue is quick to drag through your pussy.

“Jeongguk, fuck, ohmygod,” the cry is muffled as he brings a big hand up to your lips and covers your mouth. Your eyes can’t help but roll back as your cunt flutters over the thick, long fingers that help place stars behind your closed eyes.

“M’gonna need you to be quiet, babydoll. I’ve still got more to give you... going to push a couple more fingers in ‘till I’m satisfied, okay?

Jeongguk makes quick work of his tongue on your cunt. A litany of fast strokes, skilled pumps of his tongue in your messy leaky hole and now with the added addition of two more fingers, now counting three. You feel full of him as he preps you for what you hope is yet to come. It’s almost second nature for him to know when to curl his digits inside of you, a skill you’re more than aware has come from the copious amount of women he’s had in his bed. But for tonight, he’s here with you and that’s what’s important. You moan when he gets knuckle deep and causes your breathing to become erratic as both your hands tangle into the messy roots of his shaggy locks.

It’s frightening how fast your orgasm approaches you. It’s almost like he's known your body for years, and in some way, he does. Whenever his band finds their way to your town, the tirade of sexting continues from where it left off from his last visit.

“Yes babydoll, just like that, use me.”

He fucks his fingers into you and his tongue flicks your clit, drinking down your honeyed slickness. You don’t stop your hips from chasing your high, letting your pussy grind further into his face, nudging at his nose and then stopping to fuck yourself on his pretty button feature.

Out of the corner of your eye, you find a mirror tucked away in the corner. With the closest bathed in darkness, you’re unable to see clearly in the mirror, but it’s clear enough that you can make out the both of you — your hips fucking Jeongguk, using your hands to guide him into delicious positions for your tongue.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realise Jeongguk has removed a hand from your ass, his black chipped nail polished fingernails rakes down the skin of your thigh, hard enough to leave a sting of pleasurable pain as he continues down to the knee over his shoulder.

With shaking legs, your climax reaches its tipping point and you feel yourself come at an impressive force. Your body curls over in euphoria, fingers tightening its hold in his hair as a litter of curses fill the space between you both. Your head rolls back and your eyes tighten as nothing but black and speckles of white fuzzy stars to appear behind your eyes.

Jeongguk stands up, face wet from your cum coating his pretty features and he can’t help but swipe his tongue over his chin, making a scene of tasting the remnants of your arousal that he gave you.

“Aw, did my fingers fuck you dumb, hmm babydoll? Tell me how good it makes you feel,” Jeongguk demands from you as he practically laughs at your disorientation.

It isn’t fair, you’re still trying to come down from such a powerful climax that the best you can offer him is a string of useless babbled broken words.

His laughter continues and embarrassment settles in your chest. Nobody has ever made you come like that with their fingers alone and you’re both well aware of that fact.

“You look so fucking pathetic and pretty for me, pussy stretched over my bare fingers, making the sweetest sounds. Fuck, I should record you and put you on my next record and release it for the world to hear; you’d be my next breaking hit.” Jeongguk admits and lands a slap against your asscheek, the bite of his skin against yours causing you to hiss.

Eventually, you’re able to prop yourself up on your elbows on top of a stack of black equipment boxes that are kept behind the stages and cock your eyebrow up at him.

“Jeongguk, is that the best you’ve got?” You smirk, knowing you’re pouring gasoline all over an already raging fire.

Jeongguk walks towards you and traps you in between his body and the boxes you're using as a support beam. He lifts his hand in the air and the next thing you know, a dim light flicks to life and lights the closest in a warm yellow glow.

You’re able to take in the sight of the man in front of you for the first time since entering together. His once precise eyeliner and eyeshadow is smudged down his cheeks but in a way that makes him look fucking delicious. His chest is heaving with every shallow breath he takes and you’re awestruck at the beauty of him.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes are darkened with unbridled lust as he wraps his tattooed hand around your throat and squeezes at the sides, watching your eyes roll back. Jeongguk truly does know your body like a well versed chorus and it makes your body thrum with want. “Good girls use their words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He towers over you easily as he stares down at you. His thumb glides over your lower lip and you open your mouth at his silent request. A train of spit is released from his mouth as he watches it slowly pool at the back of your mouth. Jeongguk follows his fluid and presses his lips to yours in a languid kiss, his tongue instantly twisting with yours nastily. You’re still able to taste your cum on his tongue and your pussy throbs for more of him.

It’s effortless how he breaks your lewd kiss and is able to manhandle your body, twisting you around so your back is facing him and he kicks apart your feet like he had done earlier.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?"

You back your ass into the crotch of his leather pants as you feel him rustling behind you to remove his clothing just enough to release his cock. You move your hips against him, feeling his cock in between your asscheeks as you move to sensual rhythm. “So fucking badly. Remind me what your cock feels like.”

He grabs at your arm and pulls it towards his covered cock. You take the hint and wrap your hand around his twitching length, giving him a teasing squeeze when you feel it. You’re back at standing straight and you turn back around to face Jeongguk, peeking down towards cock.

“What is that?”

“This?” he pulls his boxers down by the hem just enough to reveal the blue jewel piercing. “I’m so glad you asked. I did this for you.”

“You got your dick pierced for me?”

He laughs. “No baby,” this time he pulls his black Calvin Kleins to his mid thighs and reveals one by one a new piercing decorated with a different colour gemstone until he reaches his tip, decorated with a prince Albert with pink gemstones on either side of the bar. “I got my dick pierced four times for you. Each one a favourite colour of yours so when I fuck you, you can watch as the colours disappear inside of you.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the thought of how they’re going to feel as he fucks into you and you moan pathetically. You can’t look away from them. The pink prince Albert sits prettily at the top of his cock as a puddle of pearlescent precum allows the pink to look vibrant. Following that are three foreskin piercings, again all different coloured stones locking the metal bars in place. There is a purple set first, a green set in the middle and then your favourite colour at the end, nearing the base of his cock — blue.

He is so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear. “Now, let me use these how they were intended to be fucking used — to feel you wrapping yourself around my cock like an obident slut.” He presses a kiss against your shoulder and manhandles you back in place. “Bend over and spread yourself open,” he growls.

Doing as you’re told, your tits press into the cold metal boxes as you bend yourself to his liking before reaching behind you and spreading your ass open for Jeongguk, displaying your pussy, showing how wet and ready you are for him.

He uses this as an opportunity to bend down to your cunt and spits directly at your hole, watching as you clench around nothing in anticipation for his cock. You looked behind you to see him grab at his cock, lining himself up to your quivering cunt.

“Before I fuck you, there’s one rule you follow,” he groans.

“W-what?” You ask, your breathing all over the place as you wait somehow impatiently for the one thing you have waited six months for.

Jeongguk prods his tip at your entrance and watches as his cum coats your entrance, but never quite pushes himself in yet. “Every inch I fill you with, I want you to count every piercing you feel on my cock—”

“Fuck, Jeongguk!”

“There’s four in total, princess. Once you’ve counted the forth one, then you’ll know you’ve taken all eight inches of me. If you fail to count, I’ll pull out and he can start again until you get it right. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

Jeongguk places a hand at your hip and lines his cock up to you one more time. Slowly, he eases into you and your head falls forward against the boxes. The feeling of his prince albert piercing intruding your small hole causes goosebumps to rise and your breath to falter.

“Count. I’m not going to tell you again.”

With a shaky voice, you obey. “One.”

He stops for a moment, catching his own breath as the reality of the situation catches up with him as he takes in the fact he is back burying himself in his favourite pussy. Definitely one of the greatest parts of him touring the world is your cunt.

Jeongguk manages to compose himself and ease himself further into you, watching as he’s coming up to the first piercing on his foreskin. Just like the first one, he nuzzles the piercing over your clit and moves his hips in a way where it rubs over your clit. Your fist clenches as you feel him tease you and just as you’re about to urge him to go faster, he finally sinks the second bar into your snug core.

“T-two.”

This time, Jeongguk doesn’t waste any time and continues to sheath himself, feeling you wrapping around him. He can’t see you but he knows by how boneless your body has gone that you’re experiencing a whole new high. Better than any drug could give. He reaches piercing three, the green gem glinting from the small lightbulb above before disappearing fully.

He’s only three piercings in and you feel full already, unsure of how there can be any more of him for you to take. His cockhead already feels as if it’s touching your cervix. You know already that by the time the last cock piercing is in you that your tummy will be bulging from his size.

“Shit, there’s just one more. You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk purrs his affirmation and you perk up at his approval. “Wan’ you to touch yourself.”

You’re too blissfully fucked out already to be bratty, your mind too far in subspace. Your hand wanders in between your legs, towards your cunt. Pressing two fingers to your clit, you begin to rub in a near perfect circular motion.

“Please, Jeongguk, wanna be your g-good girl,” you hiccup.

Jeongguk uses your distraction as his opportunity to sink the last remaining piercing into your poor pussy, feeling you release more of your honey onto him, helping ease him into you just the way he likes.

Not even your favourite dildo can replicate the feeling that this is giving you right now. You have never felt pleasure like this nor do you think you ever will again until the next time you see him.

“F-four…”

He bends down over you to give you a moment to recuperate. His chest is against your back and he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“Gukkie, move.”

With both of his hands now situated at either side of your hips, Jeongguk pulls out of you and you're forced to feel the jewellery leaving your cunt before he drills back into you, the metal piercings acting as ridges against your soft walls.

Wails and whimpers fall from your lips like a sinful prayer and right now Jeongguk truly did wish this was something he could record. Not for a record as he previously mentioned but for himself.

“More,” Jeongguk moans at your pleas and thrusts forward roughly.

Your heart beats in overtime to keep up with the excretion that your body is going through, sweat clinging to your skin and eyes rolling backwards as he begins a pace that has you seeing stars. His cock rubs so deliciously at your g-spot, every inch he pulls out of you is covered in a bubbly white consistency of your mixed cum.

“Wish you could see what I see, babydoll. Your cunt is such a perfect fit for my big cock.” He punctuates his words with a slap to your ass as he continues to fuck himself in and out of you at a ruthless pace.

You turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Jeongguk, and you don’t regret the image. His head is thrown back as he uses one hand to run through the strands of sweat slicked strands from his forehead as they merge together with the hair at the crown of his head. His face has darkened and his eyes are screwed tight in pleasure. You clench your cunt around him, enticing a sinful beautiful moan from him.

“I can take it, Jeongguk! Have always been able to look after you!” Your words aren’t lost on Jeongguk as he chases his high, taking you along for the ride too.

“Jeongguk, please, ohmy—, I’m gonna cum for you,” the words spill from your lips in a high pitched cry as your fingers work once more to rub yourself further to your hight. That’s all Jeongguk needs to hear. He places a hand on the centre of your stomach and the next thing he knows, he’s spilling his own seed into your spent cunt. Ropes of white fill you up and he feels as your stomach bloats just ever so slightly at the load he’s disposed of inside of you.

It doesn’t take you long to feel the frantic burning sensation inside of you snap at the feeling of Jeongguk’s cum filling you up completely before you’re now coming around his cock that is still snuggly stuffed inside of you to the hilt. Your body shakes and your legs are on the verge of giving out at the power of your orgasm that you quickly throw a hand around Jeongguk’s neck to pull at the strands to keep yourself upright.

Time passes as you stand there together, basking in the afterglow of rough sex that has definitely now made him late to the stage for his encore set. It doesn't look like Jeongguk is in any rush to go anywhere though as he whispers quiet little ‘shushes’ in your ear, knowing that you enjoy the little sounds of endearments he feeds you as you come out of your sub space.

Pressed against his soft, warm chest, you're able to hear the beating of his heart under his skin and your mind silently counts in time with every beat. He still has his arm around your waist as both of you still pant from your recent orgasms.

“You should go, Jeongguk, you have a show to finish,” you whisper, knowing he should leave you to finish what he started but you still don’t untangle yourself from his arms.

“I know. But I don’t want this to be the end. Once I get on that stage and finish my set, I’ll be dragged back into a van and taken to the next place when all I want is to be here with you.”

Warmth blossoms over your body at the admission and you can’t help but want more of him too. However, when you both started this, you knew of the implications and the risks.

Jeongguk eventually sits you down and reaches for his discarded band tee and dresses you in it, knowing you’ll keep it until the next time you see each other again. He dresses himself back up, pulling his pants up and redoing the buttons. He picks up the leather jacket and hands it to you with a kiss on top of your forehead.

His lips linger longer than any previous kiss like this he’s given you.

“Jeongguk, please go and finish your set.”

“I’ll see you next time, yeah?” And you nod your confirmation. You’ll always see him again.

He eventually pulls away from you and clicks open the door, slipping out and leaving you in the closest on your own.

“Jeongguk, where the fuck have you been? You’ve kept us waiting!” The voices dissipate the further they walk away. In your hazy, lust clouded mind you decipher that the voices to be his managerial staff or his fellow band members.

You sit by yourself in the small space which now feels too big with just yourself inside. The dull sound of drums and an electric guitar vibrates through the backstage area and you sit in your own company and listen to what you can of the music.

“Until next time.”

© 2023 taintedjeon on tumblr. all rights reserved. nobody has consent to modify, plagiarize and/or repost my content on any social media without my consent. they may also not distribute or translate any work to other site or blogs. anybody found doing so will be permanently blocked and reported.

[rugtopper]

Wedding Night Surprises

By Rugtopper

I have always been traditional or old fashioned by nature.  For as long as I could remember growing up at the orphanage, all of us under Father Carmine's care and instruction were taught good principles, good ethics, and good deportment.  For the few of us who were never adopted, some would rebel and veer from the path laid out by Father Carmine.  I stayed the course.  Once we reached our teen years, all the boys were expected to wear dress pants, shirts and ties, and shoes polished to high gloss every day.  As such, we were required to also don certain undergarments.  Some of the boys hated the mundane medallion or diamond patterned boxer shorts.  The sleeveless undershirts, or tank tops, were somewhat popular among most.  They were back in fashion again after an absence.  The one thing that a lot of the young men hated were the sock garters.  Father Carmine said that a proper gentleman never pulled up his socks in public.  I didn't mind any of it.  In fact, I really liked it.  It made me feel like a grown up man instead of a teenage boy.  Personally, I think he just liked seeing all of us dressed like that every morning as we got ready for school.  

At one point Father Carmine thought I would follow him and take Holy Orders, but I didn't want to follow that strict path. 

By law, at age 18, the state required me to leave the orphanage.  For whatever reason, I was never adopted.  Father Carmine helped me find a small room to rent a few blocks from the orphanage.  I was allowed to continue to help out in the office at the orphanage.  In truth, I was the de facto bookkeeper for the orphanage and the parish.  I started night school to get a proper degree in accounting.  That's when I met Julie.

Julie Hatfield was extraordinarily gorgeous, and yet painfully shy.  Slowly, over the course of that first term of school I got to know her.  I was shy to some extent, but I had also learned to be open enough as a kid in the likelihood I might get adopted.  In short, we were both looking for someone to love.  Less than a year later, we were dating on a regular basis.  Despite our blatant differences in background, we found we had some things in common.  She was rather old fashioned, as well.  Unlike most young women, she wore skirts or dresses.  I don't think I ever saw her in pants.  She always had her hair beautifully styled.  On our first real dinner date, I swear she wore an elegant little black dress, a string of simple pearls, with her hair in a French twist.  I was so mesmerized I couldn't even say her name.

After two months of dating, I thought we were getting serious.  I had casually brought up marriage.  We had already talked about so many things.  There were minor disagreements over silly issues, but on many principles we were of one mind in our views of things.  This was beyond an issue of politics or religion, but rather an approach to many esthetics of life that most everyone of our generation hated or thoroughly dismissed.

One night when we were dining at our favorite restaurant, she said something that startled me.  As we were eating our little dinner salads, she asked me if I was losing my hair.  I had never been asked that before, much less seriously given it any thought.

"I don't think so," I told her.  "Why do you ask?"

"It looks like you are receding a bit in the front.  Plus, you are thinning in the back."

I was more interested in why she brought it up than in if it might be true or not.  Over the next week she mentioned it a few more times.  Finally, I confronted her about it.  That's when we had our first real 'adult' conversation.  We shared our interests.  Nowadays, people call them kinks.  Back then, you didn't talk about those things.  Still it was enlightening, and even vulgarly titillating, to say the least.

I asked her why my hair was suddenly such an issue for her.  She told me that she really hated bald men, and that she didn't want me to go bald.  I told her that I didn't think there was a chance of that.  That's when she brought up my empty history.

"You're an orphan, Bryan Murphy.  You don't know who your parents are.  You don't know if your maternal grandfather was totally bald or anything.  I couldn't live with a bald man.  I just couldn't.  I know it sounds silly."

"But, Julie, I'm not losing my hair at all.  Yes, it's receding a bit like you said, but it's nothing drastic."

"I just couldn't stand it.  That's all."

"What would you want me to do, get a hairpiece?"

She got this odd look on her face.

"Would you?  For me?" She asked, almost childlike.

"What?" I retorted.

"Would you get a hairpiece?  I mean, you are slowly losing your hair as it is.  If you got a hairpiece now, no one would know."

"Julie, if I get a hairpiece, I would be bald underneath it.  Wouldn't that bother you?  I mean, eventually we are going to get married.  We have decided to wait until our wedding night to make love.  Won't it upset you when I take it off that first time?"

"That's different, Bryan."

"How is that different, Julie?  You just said how much you hate bald men.  Would you hate me?"

"No, Bryan.  I love you.  It's just that . . ."

"Well.  It's just what?  You say you love me but hate bald men, yet you want me to be bald.  I don't understand."

"Neither do I, to tell the truth."

"Okay.  Now, I'm confused."

"I really can't explain it.  With all the little quirks we have shared, I left one out.  I have this really odd bent for men who wear rugs."

I laughed.  She got upset.

"I'm sorry.  Don't be mad, Julie.  I'm sorry.  So, let me get this straight, a man in a cheap toupee makes you hot?"

"Yes."

"I guess it makes him hot, too." I sarcastically said.  She just gave me this certain smirk I had grown accustomed to over the months I had known her.

"I'm sorry, Julie."

"Just forget it.  You said you wanted to know."

"Would you really want me to do that?  Would it make you happy?"

"Yes.  Would you really do it for me?  I mean, would you put yourself through that?"

"I have never known of someone doing something like that for someone else.  I mean, yes, people have done other things for someone they love, but this is really unusual.  I don't even know a barber who could help me."

Suddenly she had this look on her face.

"You know someone, don't you?" I asked her.  "You have been planning this haven't you?"

"No, not really, but I have a third cousin who owns a little old fashioned barbershop about forty miles from here.  I think if I talked to him, he would do it without any questions."

"Do you know how much those things cost, especially over the years?  I will be 20 in a month.  My job doesn't pay much and then there is school tuition, I couldn't afford the added expense."

"Let me talk to Ronnie.  I'll tell him your situation and what I want.  He's a nice guy and a highly respected barber.  Do you know that he is the mayor's barber?"

Mayor Llewellyn was the nicest man you would ever want to meet with a blatantly obvious pewter toupee perched on his head.

I swallowed and said, "if that's what you want, sure."

Little did I know just how traditional and old-fashioned I was about to be.

Ronnie Blevins was a bit of a throwback.  When I got to his shop, he was sitting in this huge red leather and chrome barber's chair reading a magazine.  He was wearing a white barber's smock over his husky frame.  He looked like so many of those guys who had once played football, but had just let things go since graduation. The top of his head was this flat cocoa brown, wavy hairpiece in an early 1980s brushed back style.  The sides and back were not the same shade of brown and quite sparser with some gray in it.

"You must be Bryan.  I'm Ronnie.  Julie has told me all about you," Ronnie said as he got up and shook my hair.  "Have a seat," he gestured.

"So, you've spoken with Julie?  You know why I'm here."

"It's okay, Bryan.  Julie and I are third cousins, but she and I are very close.  She is like one of my sisters.  I have three."

"Must be nice.  I guess Julie told you that I'm an orphan."

"Yes, but I know it hasn't stopped you in any way.  Julie has told me how you graduated in the top ten percent of your class in high school, and how you're working your way through college at night.  Now, let's get down to business.  I can tell you have some receding in front and thinning in the crown." Ronnie said this as he took a comb out of his smock and started combing through my hair.

"I really don't think I need a hairpiece, Ronnie.  I think Julie is overreacting."

"I didn't think I did either, Bryan.  Still after every Friday night game, I'd find more and more hair in the drain.  Finally I couldn't handle it.  When I messed up my knee during the last game of the season I knew college ball, and any other kind of sports, was no longer a part of my future.  I went to barber school, and came to work for my dad here.  A year later he had a stroke and died."

"I'm sorry to hear that.  At least you had that time with him."

"Julie has given me some instructions.  Do you trust her?  Do you trust me?"

"Well . . . I love her.  That's what's important.  If this is what she wants, I can't say no.  In all the time we have known each other, she has never asked anything of me."

"Okay then.  Let's get started."

Ronnie grabbed some clippers and slowly began to remove the hair on the top of my head.  As he did it, I could suddenly see just how much of my scalp was starting to show.  Maybe I was losing my hair and was just in denial.

Ronnie made several passes from the front of my head to the top of my occipital bone.  Pass after pass, I looked more and more like a forty year old man, as opposed to a twenty year old man.

When Ronnie put down those clippers, the hair on the top of my head was so short and sparse that I couldn't even see them in the mirror across from me.

Ronnie picked up a small orange tube and put some pale opalescence cream on my scalp.  It was very thick and quite cold. He began to spread it over the newly shaved area.  As he massaged the cream into my scalp, it began to get warmer and warmer.  When he finished, he washed his hands and rolled a small heat lamp over to the barber's chair.  The lamp was even warmer than the cream, but it never seemed to burn.  The longer that heat lamp was on, the cream changed from the opalescence shade to totally clear.  Once the cream was completely clear, it suddenly began to shine and almost glow.  When that happened, Ronnie turned off the lamp.  He had me move to a sink in the corner where he rinsed off the loose hair and the cream.

When I sat back down in the huge barber's chair, Ronnie removed the hand towel that was my head.  I made a slight gasp.  I was so incredibly bald.  I had this small ring of hair around the sides and back of my head.

Ronnie left me staring at my pasty scalp.  He came back a moment later with an old leather wig stand with a hairpiece pinned to it.  It was a much lighter shade of brown than the hair that had been on the top of my head.

"Let's get to work helping you to look like the young man that Julie wants to marry," Ronnie said as he took the hairpiece off  the stand.  He put tape around the perimeter.  I watched how he only used four pieces of tape.  Each was specifically designed for certain places.  Two pieces were shaped like parentheses  for the front and back.  The other two were straighter for the sides.  He put the toupee on my bald head.  I felt the tape adhere at all four places.  More importantly, I saw the sudden transformation of my overall appearance.  Ronnie began combining the piece on the back and sides.  With scissors, he trimmed the longer tendrils.  There was a left-sided part already established.  It was very stark.  He gently combed the front of the toupee. It looked like it was swept up off my forehead.  It was the same style the mayor had, as well as several other prominent men around town.  I was torn between embarrassment and delight.  I was too busy marveling at what was on my head to fully grasp the artificiality of it.  Finally, I looked at Ronnie via the mirror and asked him, "how much does this cost?"

"Usually I charge $50, but this first one is like a wedding gift.  I know that money is tight for you.  A lot of men are like you.  They don't want to be bald, but they can't afford the very expensive human hairpieces that are on the market."

"But I'm not really bald.  You just made me temporarily bald for the toupee to please Julie.  Didn't you?"

"Well, yes, Bryan.  But, that cream I used is a high acting formula depilatory.  With the heat lamp, it kills the hair follicle for up to six weeks.  After I used it for six months,  my hair never grew back.   Neither will yours."

"You mean I'm . . . bald?"

"Technically, yes, but you have a great toupee, Bryan.  This is what Julie picked out for you."

I drove back home, a completely new man. A week later, Julie and I had planned to go to a fundraiser for the mayor's upcoming campaign.  I wore a retro 1950s tuxedo that was midnight blue.  Julie wore an emerald cocktail dress that matched her eyes perfectly.

The entire evening, I was so self-conscious.  I thought everyone in the room was staring at my new hair.  In truth they were.  It didn't help that I seemed to be acutely aware of the microscopic space between my bald scalp and the quite noticeable toupee taped to it.  Strangely, it wasn't uncomfortable or itchy.  I just felt like I was the center of attention.  I had realized before I left Ronnie's shop that the hairpiece was rather thick and full.  When Julie and I were introduced to the mayor and his wife, his eyes immediately drifted upwards to my upswept, hard hairline, and he smiled.  Later on after he had finished greeting his guests, he made his way to our table.  He asked if he could have a private word with me in the lobby of the hotel where the fundraiser was being held.

"Young man, I hear you managed to survive 18 years under Father Carmine's tutelage  at the orphanage."

I was rather taken back.  I hadn't expected that opening gambit.

"Yes, sir, Mr.  Mayor.  I guess no one was willing to take me on, sir."

"How old are you, son?"

"I'll be 20 in a few weeks, sir."

He moved a little closer to me and dropped his voice.  "It looks like Ronnie did an excellent job on your hair, son.  His Dad helped me out with my problem when I was about your age.  Trust me, I know how tough it can be."

"Thank you, sir," was about all I could say.

"Be proud of it.  There's nothing to be self-conscious about or embarrassed by.  It is far better than the hidden reality.  Am I right?"

A soft "yes sir" was all I could muster.

"Father Carmine tells me you have been his bookkeeper since you were a teen.  I could use someone like you in my office.  A raise in salary certainly would help you and Julie get started in life.  Come by my office on Thursday.  We'll talk.  I'll go talk to Father Carmine a little later and see if I can steal you away from him."

With that, the mayor walked back into the banquet hall as Julie was walking out.

"What did he want, Bryan?" Julie asked as she got closer to me.

"He wanted to offer me a job!"

She looked up at my rug and asked, "did he mention your hairpiece?"

"He just told me that he thought your cousin Ronnie did an excellent job."

"See?  I knew it might help you in more ways than you thought.  With this new job, maybe we can get married."

"Really?  Are you sure?"

"Of course.  I don't want a big wedding.  You don't have any family.  I only have Ronnie and his three sisters.  We could get married tomorrow afternoon at the courthouse if we wanted."

"Wait?  I thought you wanted a very traditional church wedding.  Don't most women want that?"

"Well, I'd love it, but I can't afford it; we can't afford it.  I'd love for Ronnie to walk me down the aisle, and his youngest sister be my flower girl, and his other sisters be my bridesmaids.  I'd want to see you standing there at the altar beside Father Carmine looking so handsome and mature with your . . .  Never mind."

I whispered, "you mean my new hair?"

"Yes, Bryan."

"Do you really like it?  I feel a bit awkward.  Still after Ronnie's and the mayor's little pep talks, I do feel a lot more comfortable.  Wait here just a moment.  I have an idea."

I left Julie standing perplexed in the hotel lobby.  I went back to the banquet hall and found Father Carmine.  He just finished talking with the mayor.

"So, Bryan, the mayor says he wants to hire you away from me to work with his campaign.  Is that what you would like?"

"Possibly, Father, but that's not what I wanted to ask you.  Julie and I want to get married properly in church with you officiating.  The trouble is, we can't afford it."

"Bryan, why don't you let me give you the wedding as a gift?  I've known you since you were nine days old.  You are the closest thing I'll ever have to a son.  Let it be my wedding present."

I guess the look of surprise on my face was a bit over the top.  I felt the toupee tape slightly lift in the front.  If Father Carmine noticed, he didn't say anything.  Of course, he hadn't said anything to me all night about my hair.  Maybe he hadn't noticed.  I hope he has not.  Alas, his eyes drifted upwards and then back down.  He only smiled and walked away.

I went back to Julie and told her the good news.  She cried and kissed me, and then she felt the back of my head at the occipital bone where my toupee was taped.  She only lightly touched it, but didn't pull it.

"You look so handsome and mature," she whispered.  "Thank you for doing that for me."

No wedding had ever come together so quickly in our community.  Everyone at the parish helped out.  Two of the nuns worked all week transforming Ronnie's mother's wedding gown to fit Julie.

We were married the next Saturday at St. Michael's.

The honeymoon was two nights at an Inn three blocks from Ronnie's barbershop.  That was a gift from Ronnie's older sisters.

After I carried Julie across the threshold, I walked back to the hall and got our two suitcases.  I closed the door and we looked at each other.

"So, I guess this is the magic moment," I said.

We had that little talk a few months ago," she began.  "Are we ready?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

We both began to undress.

We had changed from our wedding clothes into more traditional attire.  She was wearing a pale blue dress with a square neck.  I was wearing a dark navy suit.

I took off my coat for her.  My crisp white shirt was tightly tucked into my trousers.  You could clearly see my undershirt through the dress shirt.  I loosened and removed my tie.

She reached up and unclasped the top of her dress.  She turned around and indicated for me to unzip it.  She let it fall to the floor.  She was wearing an ivory slip.  She reached up and slid the straps off her shoulders letting the slip fall on top of her dress.  She stepped out of it and turned to face me.  She was standing there in her bra.  Clearly, it contained more than just what nature had given her.  She had told me that.  It wasn't vulgar and pointy like Jayne Mansfield, but it did evoke a certain Jane Russell flair.  Her open bottom girdle with garters and stockings sent shivers up my spine and a tingle in my trousers.  She stepped forward and unbuttoned my shirt revealing the straps and scoop of my classic ribbed undershirt.  She then undid my belt.  I knew what was about to happen.  She unbuttoned my pants and unzipped my fly.  My trousers fell to my ankles.  I was wearing the white boxer shorts with pink roses and red hearts that she had sent to me that morning.  I stood there with my matching navy socks and double-grip pink garters.  I started to reach up to remove my toupee.  She stopped me.  She sat on the edge of the bed and unfastened her garters.  She slowly removed her stockings.  Then she got up, turned around for me to unhook her bra.  Her breasts were almost non-existent, but I never said anything.  I was too aroused to speak.  I was also nervous.  I must have been perspiring.  I leaned in to kiss her.  I could tell my toupee tape was slightly loose.  I leaned up and put my hands up to remove it as I had done on my own every night since I had gotten it.  She sensuously slid off her girdle.  She helped me as I took off my toupee.  She gasped as we connected and completed our union.  We felt old and young, ugly and beautiful, exposed and yet complete.

The End.

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ DATES ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — toji, geto, gojo, choso (separately) x m!reader

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — dates and where the boys would take u. ;; requested.

☆. # WARNINGS — none.

TOJI.

i mean. this man has barely any money and i do not think he’d save up because i don’t think he has the means or nerves to do so

but as much as he’ll act sooo annoyed, i honestly think he’d try his best to do something he knows you’ll like even if it’s on the lower budget side

he doesn’t have the money to take you to a fancy restaurant or anything like that and truth to be told, he doesn’t want to go to to a place like that either

if he really really wants to make a good impression, he’ll ask shiu for a few bucks so he can take you to that one bbq place you like so much but that’s typically too expensive for just some everyday dinner

but if shiu’s not available and he already blew most of the money from the mission a few weeks ago, he will at the very least try to clean up a bit. he’ll make sure to shave real nicely and steal some of shiu’s clothes so he doesn’t have to show up in sweatpants and a tank top. especially after you sent him that cute picture of you in your outfit.

but anyway. so where would he take you?

there are limited options. he’s not above having you pay if you really really want to go somewhere fancy but he will pay for you if it’s something he can pay for (at least for the first date—after that it’s splitting bills all the way, baby)

in my opinion, dates with toji are usually pretty casual

but !! that doesn’t mean they’re bad. they’re honestly pretty cozy and sweet <3

he’ll take you to the movies, to that one ramen place around the corner that’s pretty cheap and tastes good, and a lot of stay-at-home dates !! he’ll even let you pick the movies you guys watch 🥹🥹

GETO.

he’s the type of guy that will show up in a really nice outfit with some flowers and a box of chocolates for you

he’ll have a table for two booked at a sushi restaurant and will pay for everything

of course, this heavily depends on how old he is because teen geto wouldn’t have had the money for it, i don’t think. but we’re talking about adult geto here

but anyway. yes. dates at restaurants are probably his favourite. he will take you to museums if you want him to !!

i think he doesn’t really like dates where you guys can’t talk to each other, so he isn’t really into going to the movies for a date. he’d much rather hear you talk about your day or how you’re doing than staring at some screen

he likes dates with some food, maybe some drinks, a lot of talking, a little bit of making out (🥴)

definitely the type of men that will pick you up at home, link his arms with yours and lead you to his car

a gentleman through and through 🫶🫶🫶

and !! he will throughout the date ask you if you’re enjoying yourself. he’ll ask if you like the food or if you’re having a good time.

and if you ever, ever aren’t enjoying a date, trust that he’ll know. he pays a lot of attention to your expressions + body language, so he’ll definitely have some kind of intuition as to whether or not you’re having a good time. and he’s always up to leave and do something else. he really just wants you to have a good time because he always has a good time when he’s with you, no matter what ‼️‼️🥹

GOJO.

oh boy,,, HERE WE GO 😭😭

now this guy. this guy has basically unlimited resources to take you on dates. bank account? full.

but with satoru, he of course always wants to do special things that are fun for both of you. casual dates are typically just for the times when you’re both too tired and/or exhausted to do anything else

otherwise, it’s amusement parks, trips to other districts in japan, trying every street food stall you can find, eating at expensive restaurants and acting as if you’re a food critic, trips to the beach.

it’s not just a case of money—there’s also his teleporting. which means you guys could be anywhere within mere seconds and back again

there’s no way this man would EVER let you pay for ANYTHING. he also whines like a baby whenever you even just think of paying the bill or anything like that.

definitely thinks paying is his job as your big protective (💀) boyfriend. it’s cute, but sometimes it’s also a little bit annoying when you are trying to do something for him and, while he enjoys it, he also always pouts because he’s like, “noo baby, that’s my job!!! :///”

but. dates with him are pretty much always so so so fun

whatever you want to do, he’s down. wanna cause some trouble? hell yeah! wanna ditch the students because “they’ll be fine” and go on a quick trip to get snacks? definitely! making out in public bathrooms? no problem!

also ‼️ he would 100% get you some kind of flowers or chocolates or sweets from some place you’ve never even heard of because they’re the best ever

CHOSO.

CUTIE CUTIE CUTIE CUTIE

which also means: cute dates ‼️‼️‼️

he doesn’t have a lot of money and also doesn’t know too too much about dating culture so he’ll probably look it up online and tries to find something he thinks you’ll enjoy

and what’s the first idea he finds?

a cute date where he takes you to the park and you eat ice cream together!

he would also pick (!!!!!!) you flowers and pick you up at your house. you’ll walk to the park together hand-in-hand, pick up some ice cream on the way and sit on a bench

you could tell him about all the different kind of flowers and little bugs flying around the park because he thinks they’re cute and he also thinks it’s cute that you know so much about them

lets you put flowers in his hair 🥹🫶🫶

will compliment you so much. no matter what you’re wearing or how your hair looks or anything—he’ll always tell you how beautiful, handsome and pretty you look

oh oh OH but ‼️ making flower crowns with choso in the park? yes. a hundred times YES. he’ll let you teach him and even though his is a little crooked and not completely right, he still tried his best and you better wear it until you both are home again and treasure it forever 😡😡😡

[itstheghostofmypast]

Wins & Losses

Idol Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: It wasn't fair. Just because you loved someone didn't mean you let them win- but did that justify cheating?

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 631

Warnings: None

Est.Read Time: 3 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Ratings: PG-13

Banner: @cafekitsune

"If she doesn't love you after she sees your LEGO sets, she's not the one." The younger man huffed, readjusting his beanie as he flopped down next to the man who was spam-texting someone, chewing on his lower lip as his thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment, when he saw the familiar three dots appear.

"That's not why she's upset." He mumbled, letting out a sigh in defeat when the sender stopped typing.

"She's got you smitten."

The two looked up at the man standing there in a pink apron, holding up a spatula - this was going to be good - snapping his fingers, he pointed at the eldest, "She's got you on your knees, look at you, ready to apologise for your nerdy hobbies so she doesn't leave you."

"Again," Seonghwa rolled his eyes before going back to typing, "That's not why she's upset."

"Are you over compensating-"

"SHE'S MAD BECAUSE I CAN BUILD SETS FASTER THAN HER, OKAY!"

The two looked at each other before looking at the man who looked like he was about to explode, "It's not my fault I have years of experience, this is a skill that is learnt over time with patience and gratitude, you can't rush through it like a chore!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she leaves you, you goddamn nerd!" Mingi exasperated before going back to the kitchen, mumbling on about how there aren't any good men left these days, no wonder Seonghwa's lover wanted to dump him- mind you she did not.

"Hyung...why don't you...let her win?" San asked meekly, knowing the reaction might not be good, especially when the silky haired man carded his fingers through his locks, turning to the feline featured man with his chest all puffed out and ready to let out a dragon like roar.

"Listen here you -"

Ding-Dong

"I'LL GET IT!" Running for his life he opened the door, letting out a breath of relief when he looked down to meet a determined gaze, a small smile gracing his lips, when he noticed a bag in her hand, "He's in the living room."

"Thank you." She mumbled, marching past the man to her own idiot, as she walked into the living room and glared at the man who peered at her through his glasses.

Tossing the bag on the couch between them, he glanced at the bag before peaking in and raising a brow at the multiple LEGO sets inside, then looking back at her.

"No headbands, no tank tops and no glasses." She announced, discreetly listing the reasons why she lost the last time- sure his hands where bigger too and he had longer fingers that were swift in movement and so pretty to stare at- she was destined to lose everytime, wasn't she?

"Deal."

With that, he stood up, hooked a finger in the loop of the plastic bag while clasping his free hand in hers, leading her to his room, knowing that this time he'd actually lose, because all those things that he was told not to do, were his winning tactics, otherwise he'd end up getting lost in her eyes, adoring the expressions she was making, the way she'd be radiating an aura of determination.

Truth be told, he did all he could to distract her in the last seven rounds, even went as far as opting for a steamy makeout session, just to leave her dazed, disoriented and distracted enough to catch up on his set and eventually win.

As he closed to door he sighed, turning to look at her with a big pout, his boba eyed cute face to earn her favour as he mumbled, "If I ask nicely would you let me win?"

"Did you let me win the last time?"

"I thought my girl would be the bigger person."

"Should've thought of that before smearing my lipstick you cheap cheater."

A bubble of laughter ripped through his chest as he walked towards her, arms wrapping around her waist, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, "What can I say? I just wanted the winning prize so bad."

"Oh?" She snorted, arms wrapped around his neck, twirling a lock of his soft hair between her fingers, gazing up at him as he moved closer, pressing his forehead against hers, "What's the winning prize?"

"You."

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a

[the-dixon-effect]

The way back home

summary: While out looking for Sophia, Y/N is attacked in the woods by a group of men. After managing to fight them off, she heads towards the farm and is noticeably... changed.

word count: 1.5k

pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

warnings: blood, gore, weapons, fainting, usual twd stuff

Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred. Four bodies lay on the ground in a formation that was anything but neat. From head to toe, you were covered in a thick layer of red. Unbeknownst to you, who stood motionless in a bloody trance, you could've easily been mistaken for a character in a cheap horror movie.

You blinked, once, twice. What the hell just happened? You inspected the nightmarish scene and suddenly it was coming back. You had been searching for Carol's little girl... what was her name? Sophia, yes. The last thing you remembered was a dirty hand covering your mouth before you reached for your knife... and the rest was a blur. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that you shot two of the guys with your short-range pistol, one in the head and one in the neck. You scrambled for your knife, which should've been tucked away in its holster, but instead, you spotted it plunged deep into the skull of one of the sickos who came at you. There was a single body left. The largest of the four men bore a filthy grey t-shirt, camo pants and combat boots. You rolled his limp body over to discover a big pool of dark red blood. You had... you had slashed his neck open. Suddenly you felt a pit in your stomach rise to your mouth and- you were about to be sick.

After expelling the only energy you had left in your body, you realised at once what that familiar growling meant, coming from a few metres away. Shit, you thought, you had to get out of here now before the men you killed start trying to kill you again, in a much more gruesome way.

You ran and ran, and could only hope you were going in the right direction. Collapsing beneath a tree, you glanced at your clothes and noticed your loose white tank top was stained completely red. After a little while the adrenaline wore off, and your stomach hurt like hell. Lifting up your shirt, it revealed a nasty cut from one end of your torso to the other. Immediately, the pain spread throughout your whole body and the excessive bleeding was almost unbearable. One of the guys must have slashed at you with a knife in an attempt to get you off of them.

Your thoughts were fading away, and it was getting harder and harder not to pass out right there. Suddenly, you heard a faint voice in the distance.

"Sophia? Sophia!" You could barely hear the voice, let alone tell who it was. Hell, for a second you couldn't remember your own name. A man appeared in your sight, and you didn't know whether to be scared or thankful. Were you hallucinating? As he approached, you noticed that the man was wielding a crossbow... it was- it was Daryl.

"Y/N? Shit, Y/N! Can ya hear me?" you looked up at him, and he could tell just by looking that you could barely keep your eyes open. "Hey, hey, it's alrigh', it's alrigh'. I'm gon' get you back and Hershel's gonna fix you up, I promise."

Hearing Daryl's voice was like a lifeline. Setting down his crossbow on the ground, he helped you up and held you with your arm draped around his shoulder. As you headed back towards the Greene Farm, warm sunlight began to filter through the trees. It felt like your brain was moving at a quarter of the pace it should be, and the sight of the Greene house in the distance, though beautiful, felt like a million miles away as you and the archer trekked towards it.

"Y/N? Oh my God, Daryl, is she okay?" said Andrea as the two of you approached the house. You were a frightening sight to see, especially for certain members of the group that hadn't quite immersed themselves in this brutal apocalypse.

"Rick! She's got a- a nasty gash underneath her shirt. Hershel better take a look at it."

Right in that moment you collapsed on the ground, falling limply out of Daryl's strong arms. The tall grass of Hershel's pasture enveloped your body, and you could no longer hear the great commotion that was taking place. Despite the incredible amount of pain you were just in, sleep was heavenly.

First came a flurry of voices. Then, the white ceiling appeared and several blurred countenances around the room. Strangely, you couldn't remember a thing about how you got here.

"D-Daryl? Where's Daryl?" you asked, innocently. Suddenly, every face in the room turned to look at you. You were pale, very pale, yet you sat upright in the makeshift hospital bed resting on your forearms.

Following a sudden rush of people turning to surround your bedside, you blacked out again.

"Everyone, I would strongly appreciate it if we could give the girl some space," spoke Hershel, calmly.

"Ya think I could stay?" said Daryl.

"Alright, then. Just don't make a big fuss."

This time, you awoke to a cool breeze through the wide open window and noticed only two figures in the room. It looked like... Daryl and Hershel?

Hershel approached you and placed a hand on your forehead, and though you felt extremely hot and clammy, he seemed to deduce that you were going to be fine.

The door swung open and in entered Shane, Glenn and Hershel's youngest daughter, the blonde one... Beth. That was it.

A wave of confusion passed over you suddenly, as if, in a second, somebody has swiftly erased your memory. "Wh- Where am I? What are you doing here?" You sat upright once more and removed the rest of the covers from yourself. Your eyes were wide and a little bloodshot, and your mouth was shaped by a distinct frown.

"Y/N, Y/N, it's alright. Daryl tells me something happened out in the woods. I just need you to tell me the story. It's okay." said Shane, leaning into you.

"What story? What happened?" Tears began to fill your eyes as you spoke and it was like your whole body was consumed in a state of fright. Immediately, you began to hyperventilate as images of mutilated bodies clouded your mind.

"What's happening?" said Beth.

"She's in shock. Everybody out!" announced Hershel.

When you awoke later, you got out of the bed in the back room and entered the living room. Everyone was gathered around, seemingly waiting to find out what on earth had happened to you. Daryl relayed the story countless times to the likes of Dale, Rick, Shane and Maggie. Just like before, they all turned to face you as if you were some lost child, or a deer in headlights. Daryl captured your eyes and noticed how they seemed... different. The same cheerful, good-spirited girl suddenly appeared before him, pale and cold, and with a new thousand-yard stare that didn't go unnoticed by a single member of the group. If they didn't believe how harsh the new world was before, they certainly did now.

"Y/N, sit down," said Dale. His manner was kind yet you couldn't help but feel threatened by anyone who tried to communicate with you.

"Tell us what happened," spoke Rick.

"I- I don't remember..." you declared. Your legs were shaking and you held you face in your hands as you wracked your brain for anything, any trace of a memory of the event that occurred earlier that day.

Bodies.

How many bodies?

"There was... four. Four bodies. Which meant... four guys, I guess?" you looked up at this statement, this time receiving several pitiful looks from around the room.

Shane was about to speak when Rick raised his hand slightly, "Let her talk."

"I don't know- I don't know! There was... blood, there was so much blood," you began, trying to muster up anything you could. "Please can I go back to bed?" At this request, Daryl practically jumped up from his seat to help you and guided you back to the bedroom to rest.

A heated debate had broken out in the front room. How many more of these men are there? Are they dangerous? Is she even telling the truth? For some members, they feared the worst and assumed that this incident would be the first of many to come, involving a new threat; people.

(one day later, at dawn)

You sat with Daryl on the white porch, facing the sunset behind the trees. The trees, in fact, that the two of you had ventured out of the previous day. Although you hadn't known him long, you decided that you enjoyed his company most of all.

"You know, I think I'm going crazy, Daryl," you said, somewhat wistfully.

"Oh yeah, why's tha'?" he drawled.

"I was just walking 'round here, over in the woods. Saw some freak stumbling around. Went to look a little closer, and this sicko was dressed up like some kind of corpse! You know, fake blood and everything. Guess he was just trying to scare little kids or something."

[sea-lanterns]

CAR WASH

synopsis: your hot new neighbor helps wash your car

featuring: arlecchino

rating: 18+ nsfw (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab female reader, public sex (you guys do it on top of your car), pet names, oral (reader recieving), teasing, biting, licking, mentions of a tongue piercing, reader wears a sundress.

art credits: bai lijin among mortals

When you first moved into the neighborhood, your new neighbor; Arlecchino, was watching you move in from the corner of her lawn. Arms folded and lips sealed tight under the teeth of her grin, she watched you closely as you helped your parents carry in boxes from within the crowded moving truck, eyes locked onto the shape of your ass whenever you bent down to pick something up, and following your strides whenever you walked outside. You noticed her, you definitely did, but instead of getting too upset, you figured you’d give her a little show as you innocently winked at her before going back into your new house to drop your belongings off. 

Oh, you’ve caught her attention now. Much more than you did a few moments ago as the second your father came out to carry the heavier boxes, Arlecchino stepped forward and offered to help speed up the process. It was around this time you came back outside and spotted her helping your father lift some of the heavier belongings. Toned muscles stiffening as she lifted them with ease, along with a heavy grunt emitted from her lips that made you turn your attention to her further. 

She was…incredibly toned for a woman of her stature, as when she walked by the pavement to help carry the boxes in, she brushed by you and smirked when she saw you staring awestruck as her strength. Even flexing a little when she switched to one hand to carry the heavier box. Little did you know however, that this would not be the last time Arlecchino would be helping your family, or the last time she’d show her strength to you… 

Whenever it rains in the summer it gets drastically humid. And drastically messy… Your car was absolutely covered in stained water spots and your dad was not happy at the look. He was about to go drive to some cheap automatic drive thru to thoroughly wash his car, but Arlecchino caught wind of this and smirked, offering to wash his car for him.

Huh, that’s surprising. Usually Arlecchino doesn’t do favors for anybody… Though, unbeknownst to your father, she had another goal in mind behind that convincing smile…

A goal that involves you…

After a few negotiations with her in terms of payment and certain cleaner products, your parents decided to go on their annual Costco trip in their other car, which meant they’d be gone for at least a few hours. Before they left however, they told you that your neighbor Arlecchino would be washing the family car in their driveway, and that if she needed anything from the house, you’d be there to assist her. 

Oh, you’d definitely assist her alright…

Which is why you were watching her clean from the upstairs window of your bedroom, letting your eyes trail over her toned, sweaty body. All hot from the sun beating down on her back, as sweat formed at her brow from the summer-buzzing heat of the sun. 

Arlecchino was only wearing a black tank top and some gym shorts at the time, showing off her chiseled stomach that held the faintest outline of what appeared to be abs. Even if she didn’t have them, it was clear that the woman worked out as her stomach looked straight out of a model’s magazine. A sight that almost made you drool because wow, was she flexing on purpose…? Perhaps she was, I mean…there’s no way someone could stretch so much in a span of 5 minutes…

You noticed her wiping the sweat off her brow with a towel, looking fatigued as you had the idea to treat her to something. Going downstairs to pour a glass of lemonade for the hardworking woman, you went outside and set the pitcher down on a nearby table, walking over to her with a smile.

“…Hey,” Arlecchino grins, flashing you a snide smile when she sees you.

“Hey.” You responded back, trying to match her vibe as you handed her the glass. “Lemonade? You’ll die of heatstroke otherwise…”

“Hm. How sweet of you…” she mumbles, taking the glass and downing half of it in three large gulps, some of the liquid trekking past the corners of her mouth and trickling down her jaw. “Mm…thanks sweetie,” she sighs, handing you the glass as she went back to work, wiping the stray lemonade drops with the back of her hand.

‘Well shit, that was hot wasn’t it?’ Apparently your body also agreed as you felt a strange churning in the core of your stomach. A naughty little thought popping into your brain as you bit your lip and walked over to sit at your patio table.

“…Tch, is the princess enjoying the show?” Arlecchino scoffs, a crude smirk adorning her face. “How cute. Just sit still and look pretty, I got this…”

With that, Arlecchino reached over to grab her sponge and dunk it in the bucket of sudsy water. Long, slender fingers squeezing the sponge in a way that made your heart quicken, as she smacked it on the roof of the hood to begin cleaning. Scrubbing precisely to get rid of every stain and imprint and arching her back over to reach all the cracks and crevices.

You crossed your legs to satisfy the tingling you felt within the core of your hips. Eyes trained to roam over how concentrated and focused she was in giving your car the best wash it could possibly receive. God, you wished she’d focus on you as intently as the car, thoughts wandering to how her fingers would grip you like the sponge she was holding. Squeeze you like the bubbles that were coming out with each grab. The thought made your cunt twitch with anticipation as you couldn’t help but subtly grind against the patio seat, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Ah, but Arlecchino is as attentive as ever. Watching your minuscule movements with a keen eye and smirking to herself at your discomfort.

“You alright there, babe?”  She teases, running a tongue over her lips. “You’re lookin’ a lil hot and bothered. You could take a sip of my drink if you’d like, I don’t mind sharing with you…” 

“Oh?” You raised a brow at her words and snickered. “You’re not worried about germs?” 

Arlecchino lets out a small scoff and grins. “I don’t mind a little bacteria, babe. Sharing with you would mean I get an indirect kiss…” She chuckles darkly and slaps a wet rag against the hood of the car, the sound making you flinch as she wipes it over the surface to spread the suds. Geez…you wondered if she’d treat you as roughly as the car she was cleaning right now…

“Do you flirt with all your patrons…?” You ask with a laugh, leaning back against the chair lazily. “You seem like the playboy type…”

“Please, I don’t flirt with just anybody…” she chuckles, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “…Just the girls that look pretty in a sundress.”

You look down and realize that you were coincidentally wearing a sundress. Arlecchino smirks when she spots you looking down to check, and waves a hand over for you to come. “Looks like you realized. Come, help me with this part. I promise I won’t dirty that pretty little dress of yours…”

What a lie that was.

What started as Arlecchino bending over behind you to help you clean the car escalated to subtle, wet touches that caressed your bare skin. As her taller body hovered over yours behind you, you felt the fabric of her shorts press up against your ass, pelvis bumping into yours closely as she helped wipe down some cleaner. 

“You okay?” She’d whisper huskily into your ear, the bare stomach of her tank top pushing roughly against your back. “You’ve been scrubbing the same spot for the past minute or so…”

“Yeah? Well you’ve been rubbing up against me for the past minute or so too…” you argue sarcastically, a mean smile appearing on your face. Arlecchino chuckles at your sass and lightly smacks the outer part of your thigh, a gasp escaping your lips from the sudden harsh treatment. “The pretty girl has some kick in her words…” she smiles, “that’s okay…I can handle a little spice…” 

With that, she flips you over so you could lay back against the hood of the car. Some of the wet soap residue clinging to your back as she holds you down with her body. 

“…You’re gonna dirty the car again.” You chuckle. 

“Hah, like I care…” she grins.

Calloused hands roaming over your hips, she pressed your body flush with her hips and began grinding your pelvises together to start a friction that made your insides burn. The black nail-polished tips of her fingers prodding up your sundress and pushing it back to rub at your panties.

“You’re okay with this, right? Just making sure…?” Arlecchino murmurs, looking down at you with concerned eyes.

“Well we’re already doing it so might as well…” you chuckle, letting her lift your legs up from the ground below and wrap it around her waist. “That’s good…” she sighs, before that coy smile returns to her face, fingers reaching up to play with the elasticity of your underwear before pulling it down. “Because we are definitely gonna have to clean the car again…”

She leans in to kiss you feverishly, almost like a bite as she dives her tongue into your mouth to French kiss you into submission. Hands hiking up your dress to expose your naked thighs to the outside world, and cupping your cunt with her palm, rubbing it until she felt it dampen under her touch.

“Don’t make too much noise now…we’re outside after all,” she purrs, tossing your panties to the ground as she continues rubbing your folds for all to see. Two fingers sliding down to seperate them slightly and gaze at the erotic sight before her. How naughty…

Arlecchino bit her lip when she saw how soft and aching you looked for her, so exposed and scandalous as the thought of doing this out in public further turned her on. The risk of doing such an indecent act outside spurring the woman more as she leans down to kiss your neck, fingers starting to prod a little deeper at your entrance and gather slick between her polished nails.

You moaned at the feeling, avoiding eye contact as she spread your legs with her other hand and playfully nipped at your skin. Laughing a little at the annoyed look you gave her and grinning sleazily at your pout. 

“What? Don’t like my teeth?” She laughs hazily, tilting her head before biting her lip to show how sharp they were. “Better get used to it. You’ll be feeling these somewhere else…”

You shivered at her words and felt heat rise to your cheeks when she lowered herself to meet eye level with your clit. Giving it a sweet lick of her tongue before diving forward to stroke circles between your folds with the tip. Holding your hips firmly with her hands to stop you from shaking, as you groaned and bucked your hips against her face. 

“Mmmh…Arle…” you groaned. Her tongue so warm and rough as it caressed your clit harshly, hands reaching down to grip her short hair in yours and push her deeper into your cunt. “Haah…this is so messy…our poor car…” you attempt to giggle, before cutting yourself off with your own moans as she starts sucking deeper into your folds. 

“We could always clean it up again…” she mumbles, pinching your clit with her teeth and causing you to yelp. “…So be quiet and just enjoy.”

You whimper as she prods the tip deeper into your cunt, feeling the soft flesh of your walls as she circles it to feel every twitch of your warmth. You let your mind wander to how good it might feel if she got a tongue piercing to boot with that rough tongue of hers. Maybe you’ll talk about it with her later…after all, she did seem like the type to enjoy piercings…

Arlecchino seemed to notice you spacing out and gently flicked her tongue up to push against your clit. A gasp emitting from your lips as she pushes further into your folds. 

“Mm…what are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours…” she grins lazily, tongue slowly dragging against your clit as she watches you squirm. “I hope it’s only thoughts of me…”

She grins and presses her tongue flat, feeling the heat of your skin grind against her lips. A moan riveting itself through your throat as you felt yourself come undone, thighs twitching as you cream all over the rough expanse of her tongue. “Felt good huh…?”

You groan and look down to look at the sticky mess you made all over Arlecchino’s face. Some of it dripping down onto the hood of the car and staining the surface you both worked so hard to clean. The woman above you noticed your worried eyes and chuckled darkly, grabbing your wrist and planting a soft kiss against it. 

“Don’t worry babe, we have time to clean it again…”

[envyangelic]

˚* ˚ ✦STEEL AND SILK * ˚ ✦ ˚

・❥・Violet “Vi” x Reader

・❥・Warnings: smut, minor descriptions of violence

・❥・Summary: Working at a brothel in the heart of Zaun, you find yourself drawn to a new regular who so happens to be a reckless pit fighter seeking solace in your expertise.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Babette’s brothel is so much more than just a whorehouse- it’s a crossroads full of expensive secrets. In the hallways of the brothel, the most powerful people of Zaun float in between the rooms of different women and men.

There’s always a crowd in the brothel. People let things slip when they feel safe and relaxed. That’s your job. Of course, it’s not the ideal job that you’ve always dreamed of but it pays better than most and you gain leverage over the powerful people of Zaun. It’s not like you have much of an option when all the prices in the Undercity are sky rocketing.

After a while, you’ve become numb to the touch of strangers. The other workers always lookout for one and another and Babette doesn’t stand for violence. It’s one big dysfunctional family. You’ve gotten used to it all and have started to have regulars that respect you. You try your best not to get too close them but a particular new regular has caught your eye.

Her name is Vi. She has this red pinkish hair that she decided to dye black in an impulsive rage. Still her red hair shines through the cheap dye shining a spotlight of who she used to be. A tattoo of her name underneath her eye and piercings scattered on her body. She’s a pit fighter for one of Zauns notorious illegal fighting ring hidden in the dark corners of the undercity. You always prefer the women customers over the men but Vi attracts you in an alluring way.

Your meetings usually happen after her fights. She’s bloody and drunk seeking comfort anyway possible. Sometimes she comes in before fights to scoop details about the other fighters strategies.

Here she is again, stumbling into your dimly lit room on a late Friday night. The faint tang of iron fills the room. Her lip is busted and her nose leaks dark red. She smells like cheap whiskey and looks as if she has been drinking bottle to bottle.

Her knuckles are split open and bruised but she pays no attention to the pain that tightens her body.

“Hell of a night, huh?” You ask as you pat the spot next to you on the love seat. She can’t help it when her eyes trail up and down your body. You’re practically wearing nothing. Like usual, you’re wearing a cropped v neck tank top with an open back and matching shorty shorts. She lets out a deep sigh and shuts her eyes.

She collapses on the soft plush next to you. You lean over the coffee table and pull the medical kit out from the tiny compartment. You started keeping one ever since Vi started her visits.

“I’m taking that you didn’t win tonight.” You state as you open the latch of the medical kit. Her face doesn’t change- not a flicker of pride or shame, just her same old steady stone cold mask.

“In the end, I’m still here aren’t I?” She rasps in a deep voice. You pick out a white bandage and a cloth. You sit against Vi’s clothed thighs and brings your hand to her face. You caress her cheek as you dab away the blood on her lips.

She slightly opens her eyes watching your movements. “Who did you fight?” You ask while you wipe away the remaining blood. “Doesn’t matter, doll.” She leans into your soft touch.

She started calling you that after her first visit there. Always dressed up in prettiest of garments and hair perfect as can be. You look like a doll to her. Perfect and pristine. She wonders how you ever ended up in a place like this. You’re too good for here.

She brings her calloused hand up to your hair. It’s neatly up in a bun with some bobby pins pressed against it to hold the hair. “Why haven’t I ever seen you with your hair down?” She coos in a low voice.

Your lips upturn into a sly smile. “Maybe because you never asked.” You state as you place the bloody cloth on the glass table infront of the loveseat. The warmth of your skin radiates on Vi. You lean back touching your shoulder to hers. Only inches away from her face your eyes meet hers.

“I’m asking now.” She loops her finger into your hair band and unravels it slowly before throwing the hairband somewhere next to you.

Your hair falls down onto your shoulders and cascades around your face. She plucks the bobby pins out and places them on the table. You let out a small laugh.

She takes it all in, her sharp gaze lingering longer than usual. The way your hair falls around your shoulders. You push your hair back with a deep sigh.

“Long day for you too?” She asks while twirling a stray strand of your hair. There’s a rasp in her voice, a splinter of vulnerability shining through her bloody battered state.

“Yeah well.. you know how it is here.” She pushes the stray hair strand behind your ear. “Anyways, I heard some big shot talking about your next fight.” She tenses up while you continue.

“I don’t care. Not tonight.” She says while you start to pull her black jacket off. You peel it away slowly feeling the worn fabric under your grip.

You throw the jacket over the side of the couch. Your fingers trace the black ink on her bruised skin. Her eyes follow them. Then they flicker to your face again.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming attraction towards you. A gratifying force pulling her to you. She grabs onto your hand freezing you in your place.

She can’t take this anymore. She needs you against her. Her gaze locks with yours. The air between the two of you thickens, charged with an energy you can’t fight.

She lets go of your hand and wraps it into your hair. She crashes onto your lips moving in a hungry rhythm. Your hands wrap against her back. Her hands loop with your tank top. She unravels from your lips to lift the tank top off of you.

It slides off with ease. She takes a moment to appreciate the scene in front of her. Your chest rises and falls. She ducks down to your neck pressing chaste kisses.

You let out a soft gasp as she travels further. Her touch hand latches onto your breast and she nips at the sensitive spot of your neck. A rush of euphoria makes your head spin.

You need more, she needs more.

Her breath is hot against your skin sending shivers down your spine. She ignites a fire inside of you. Her finger leaves your chest and travels below your shorts.

She lets out a deep laugh against your skin feeling how soaked you are. Her finger dives deeper. Your lips press against her ear. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be making you feel like this..” you whisper.

“You know it’s so much more fun for the both of us when I do it, doll.” She pulls you back in for a hungry kiss. Her fingers curl inside of you.

You let out a hushed moan. Her hands explore your body like your body is new territory. Time to seems to blur, your heart beats in your ears. Her fingers leave your warmth.

You sigh unable to form words as she pulls off the shorts that already barely cover you. Her hands drag down to your thighs slowly torturing you with the prolonging absence of her touch.

The shorts are thrown with the rest of your forgotten clothes. Her hands stop at your hips and she grabs them. She moves you down the couch and starts to press kisses further and further down.

The warmth in between your legs continues to grow. Flutters of arousal beat inside your chest. She finally makes her way to your heat. She ducks down in between your legs. Your thighs instinctively tighten around her head.

Her hot breath lingers around your center. Her lips press against you. You gasp lightly and your hands travel into her hair. Her tongue swirls around your core carefully. She always knows just what riles you up.

“I know you like it just like that, doll.” She cockily teases you. She can’t help but smirk seeing your flushed face.

Between breathy moans you moan her name quietly as she inches you closer over the edge. She slides her tongue up sending you over but slows down.

“Fuck.. Vi..” You whisper under your pants. She picks up your pace. You grab onto her hair pulling her closer. A burst of an intense sensation paralyzes you.

You press her down further arching your back. She keeps at her pace until your pathetic humps stop and your body twitches. She leans up from her position to catch you in a quick kiss.

You can barely keep up with her rhythm as she crawls on top of you. Her red hair falls infront of her face. She leans away from the kiss and deep down all you want is for her to stay.

She drops her head on your chest taking in the warmth of your body. For a moment the pain of her wounds melt away. She doesn’t think of Caitlyn but only of you. Your breath slows down matching with her.

She tries not to dwell on the fact that this experience is something you always have when working at the brothel. To her you’re not just the hooker from the brothel. You’re just a desperate girl doing whatever it takes.

Just like her.

——————————————-

I couldn’t find any Pitfighter Vi gifs which is disappointing bc she’s so fine in her emo era