#that it's like you were invisible before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 9 days ago

Text

Night(wing) Crawler - G.S.

Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.4k

A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.

“You.”

“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink.

Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist.

And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all.

If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already.

“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”

There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin.

With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”

“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”

Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one?

Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.

The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus.

Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”

A very, very big plus.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”

“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer.

It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat.

Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs.

Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.

If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under.

He looked more than good, if you were being honest.

But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?

And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.

There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden.

Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”

“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”

You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.

Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe.

“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”

“I don’t think I’m close enough.”

Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”

“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”

“You little-”

“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”

“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”

“Enough with the-”

“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”

As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”

Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.

Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.

“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”

“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”

“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

What….the fuck.

And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher.

“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”

Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.

“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”

Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.”

“President?”

“CEO.”

Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”

Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost.

“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”

“Big.”

“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”

You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”

And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight.

It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now.

Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.

“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”

“Aw, dear…”

“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”

And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.

Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”

You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”

Another nudge, another step forward.

“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”

Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder.

“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”

And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.

Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid.

“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases.

You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”

“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”

“We’re here.”

It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times.

And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it.

The infamous Zenin office room.

With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too.

Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.

He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”

Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”

“I insist.”

“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”

Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-

And then it happens.

All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped.

“Fuck-”

“No!”

“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.”

He knows.

Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you.

And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner.

Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window.

No exit.

He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”

Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”

“I’m not.”

And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything.

The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”

Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”

“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”

“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.”

You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”

“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”

Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”

“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”

You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.”

Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material.

Fuck.

BANG!

“For fucks-”

“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”

He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this.

Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet.

“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”

Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests.

“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-”

“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself.

And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign.

Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”

Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.

But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-

“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked.

“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”

“No.”

Yes.

Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin.

It was so hot.

“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body.

Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”

“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”

“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”

“Scared, Prowler?”

Oh, for the love of-

“Not on your life, Nightwing.”

And then you do it.

You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it.

All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh.

Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.

You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all.

Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”

“Take this fist to your face.”

“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”

Hard-er.

And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too.

Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”

Pulling it down just an inch before-

“Wait…let me?”

Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.

You were gorgeous.

Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body.

Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.”

You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”

But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for.

Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.

“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”

His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”

Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?

No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?

He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”

But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up.

The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–

“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”

In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’-

You could tell that he was big.

So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”

“Found me ir-re-sis-”

Harder.

“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”

You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-

“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”

You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”

“Have it your way then, girl.”

And when he says that shit, he means it.

Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.

It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders.

You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”

“Witch.”

“Pussy.”

“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”

You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-

He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance.

“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”

SPANK!

The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue.

Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles.

Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration.

“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”

With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones.

“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”

“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.

That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.

Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”

“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up.

With only one hand.

Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth.

“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”

Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.

“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked.

Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy.

Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life.

His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot.

And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked.

You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”

“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.”

All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed.

You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.

“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”

“C-cute?”

“So fucking cute.”

“I-I’m not- fuck!”

Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push.

Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”

You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.

And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide.

He wanted you. And he wanted it all.

Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit.

“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”

So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.

Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”

You think you’re gonna snap.

“Upsie daisy.”

Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.

You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.

“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”

You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster.

Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”

“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”

Shit- you were? You were.

Head spinning, throat raw.

And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.

Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly.

“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”

If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now.

So loud.

Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless.

You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-

“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting.

And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part.

He wasn’t done yet. No.

His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”

Because to him it would never be enough.

Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated.

Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.

Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier.

And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”

“Dirty” was an understatement.

Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!

“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”

And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink.

Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?

Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle.

You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”

“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.

If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.

You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”

“I…”

“Shut up.”

And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.

Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy.

He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-

Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor.

You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.

Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-

Oh.

He did.

And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either.

“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”

Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.

True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually.

His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up.

Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt.

So…sexy.

“Satoru…”

And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive.

He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”

If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.

But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.

You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it.

“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”

Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat.

He’s watching you with an open mouth, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”

Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”

It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears.

“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”

He didn’t even know what he was saying.

Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-

“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”

Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”

He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face.

Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle.

He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.

“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”

Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”

Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.

He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering.

And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds.

“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”

Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”

He blushes.

You didn’t know who was yearning for it more.

Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”

Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”

Bratty girl.

Though, he always has loved that side of you.

And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless.

You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter.

“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”

Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick.

Did he just…? Just from putting it inside?

And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?

Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-

Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”

“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”

Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-

“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”

Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever.

Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below.

Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”

Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”

“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”

“Never.”

“Never?”

Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”

Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”

He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”

“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”

And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are.

Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll.

Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.

But when he did finally fit all the way?

God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs.

“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”

Really big.

And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots.

“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”

“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-

“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”

You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally.

One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads.

It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over-

And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.

Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.

You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”

It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.

But you’re not just “anyone.”

With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over.

“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”

Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied.

And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press.

Still not slowing down. Still not faltering.

Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”

As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”

At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.

Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some.

It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-

This brand-spanking new angle was everything.

Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before.

And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot.

“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”

“What was that?”

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please!”

Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets.

“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…”

You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis.

“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”

And that does it - for the both of you.

Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”

Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance.

“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”

“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”

You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you.

Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight.

“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”

And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could.

All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”

Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.

In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all.

“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”

Fuck.

His poor, overworked cock twitches.

Fuck.

And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.

Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.

After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”

Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina.

Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous.

He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.

“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”

Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore.

Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made.

“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”

“Y-yours.”

Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point.

Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass.

He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two.

Before Gojo cums dry.

“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”

Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”

And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.

But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.

You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.

Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo.

Red Hood.

A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken.

He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”

“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”

Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”

Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”

But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”

You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”

“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”

Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time?

Shit.

While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until-

“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”

A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

9K notes · View notes

brunchable · 4 months ago

Text

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know.

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold.

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room.

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side.

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded.

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × ×

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder.

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back.

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question.

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways.

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips.

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance.

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more.

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous.

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself.

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality.

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin.

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile.

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear.

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength.

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × ×

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house.

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him.

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes.

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door.

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside.

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh.

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else.

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore.

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm.

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back.

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes.

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × ×

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh.

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm.

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually.

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room.

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch.

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile.

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets?

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip.

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure.

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little.

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still.

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light.

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep.

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase.

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words.

“What’s that?”

“This.”

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body.

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply.

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting.

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless.

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front.

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon yourself to him.

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you.

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire.

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.”

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder.

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy.

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him.

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

10K notes · View notes

screampied · 5 months ago

Text

☆ cw. fem! reader, mating press, soft dom choso, squirtīng, p spanking, dirty talk, size kink, praise, mdni.

you tell choso it’s practically impossible to make you orgasm – and he ends up making you squirt instead.

“really?” he’d huff in a ginger cooing voice, sucking his teeth together as he watches a thick portion of his cock disappear between your sweet soddened folds. you let off a gasping moan once you glance down, getting a wide view of him easing his hefty weight into you. choso’s got you in mating press—a position he’s been wanting to try with you for a while, and with the way you were easily clenching around him had his entire body twitching. as he’s being as gentle as possible, he lets off a soft grunt before placing a bare hand on your tummy. “so you mean like . . never, baby?”

“n- never,” you inhale an incoming breath. your legs were sprawled ‘n spread — creating a stretched ‘v’ shape with your trembling feeble limbs. choso’s got a hand wrapped around his aching shaft before he starts to gradually sink inside of you deeper. “u..ughhh,” you hiss out, hearing your own wanton squelches shriek right out of your sopping pussy. choso smears a thumb down your entrance and you could see the cunt drunken grin starting to warp against his lips. “fuck, jus make me cum choso. like that, harder.”

“okay,” choso gruffly groans, his swollen sack already starting to mercilessly slap against your entrance. it’s loud numerous ‘thwap!’ ‘s and your glassy eyes widen the moment he slowly lifts up your leg just a bit higher, sexily throwing his head back with a carnal eye-flickering-roll. “just hold still,” and with one hand, he softly caresses your chin. “ ‘n keep those pretty eyes on me. gooood girl.”

intently, dark mousy eyes bore into you whilst he’s slowly driving his inside of you. you’re whimpering, already starting to hear the growling snarling creaks of the wooden bed frame ring against your ears.

“t- thaaat’s it,” choso grunts, and you can feel his honed hips tilt inward. he’s big, and with the gaping stretch he’d always create—it’s got invisible cogwheels spinning ‘n turning at the insides of your empty brain. it doesn’t take him long before he’s sensually pounding you with deep loving thorough thrusts, making sure he’s buried at the hilt. choso’s heavily panting with raspy breaths, clawing a hand through his shaggy black strands. he’s so pretty, and you couldn’t help but stare at him whilst he’s tenderly ravaging your sweet gripping walls. choso’s hair flawlessly of his flows down his narrow shoulders before he moans. “goddd, so good. doin’ so good.”

with a cute shrilling ‘oh!’ the moment his bulbous tip meanly slams into your sweetened sensitive spots, your jaw dangles agape.

he’s already reached it, and every time his body crashes into yours at full speed at such miles per fucking hour . . your skin sticks to stick against his like glue. smacking smacks of fleshy mounds gum against each other as he’s jackhammering his slim hips up and down before you shriek. “choso… ohmygod, right there. fuck me, fuh—”

“quiet,” he whispers, grabbing your chin. your eyes meet his, and as raven bangs string down his eyes, choso gives you a quick kiss. it’s sloppy, and you moan while he’s still buried balls deep. each risqué stroke has you dizzy, craving for more and as his tongue curls through the layout of your sweltering hot mouth, he briefly pulls away. choso huskily grunts, his powerful hits against your cunt creating loud squelches that resounded off the thinly-made walls. “f- fuck, hear that, baby? think she’s trying to hah . . get a word in.”

choso’s weight remains hovering over your body as he’s pounding into you. you moan, feeling his hot breath waft against your skin as he buries his face into the cove of your left shoulder. a hand reaches between your legs, and he starts to smear all kinds of circles ‘n shapes against your glittery wet cunt. wetly, he’s lightly smacking his palm against your stuffed full entrance, droplets of your honeyed juices splattering against his hand.

‘psh’ after ‘psh’ and choso grunts, hearing how you were not only vocal from your mouth, but in between your legs too. “so pretty,” he whispers, licking a stripe down your neck, softly nibbling a playful munch at your skin. “c’mon, baby. ‘m gonna need you to make a mess for me.”

oh, his hips were just the definition of fervent though.

your pussy’s hysterically gurgling out desperate sloppy pleads of want and need as your nails decorate his toned back with many many scratches. choso’s back was your own personal canvas—and he loved whenever your fingers would drag down his skin—painting areas of his flesh every single time. “cho- chosooo,” you whine out, tossing your arms over him. you could feel his back muscles tense, feeling his askew hips deepen its strenuous hits against your pussy. it was orgasmic – his rhythm alone, and your toes were already curled, mouth dropped, eyes bulged. “ ‘m gonna cum, make me cum choso.”

“uh huh. like that, you got it,” he purrs, feeling your cute legs starting to grow limp. he’s so nice with his hips, making sure he’s got the perfect angle. choso’s cock runs through you languidly, it’s slow but steady but also speedily fast. you could feel his stout cock repeatedly trying to kiss it’s way at your fluttering g-spot before you let off a trilling whine. “easy, easyyy girl,” he cups your face, a fat thumb stroking the right side of your mouth. “hey. look at me, baby. you got it,” choso repeats, and as he’s lewdly moaning right with you, bodies slamming in such luscious rapture, choso sprinkles kisses near your chin. “give it t’ me. be my messy baby, thaaaat’s it.”

right at his exact words—you felt yourself tightening up. . although something within you bursts, and you bite down on your jaw. it’s sudden, it’s so sudden that your eyes start rolling the second you realize you’re gushing down on his cock. a shaky breath leaves out of choso as he instantaneously pauses his hips—stilling his cock inside of you without moving anymore.

pretty doe-enlarged eyes with hearts swarming in his irises focuses primarily on you, and you could hear him whining out a ‘holy shiiiit’ while you mewl out your oh-so euphoric release.

it felt like forever but it was only for about three seconds, and you’re stupidly cross-eyed, moaning once choso starts to gradually pull out. “h- heh, baby chose to be wet today, huh,” and you let off a sobbing whimper once you feel him starting to smear his tip against your leaky cunt.

you’re drooling from your glossy puffed slit, and as he’s starting to politely smack his hardened cock onto your twitching heat, choso grunts. ‘you’re sooo pretty like this,’ the exact phrase that repeats in his brain like a mantra.

“let go, good girl. keep goin’. make me just as messy as you, princess,” and your brain merely short circuits. the elatedly shocking friction of his plump tip playfully hitting your soaked cunt has nothing but cute babbles departing from your babbling lips. choso drags his swollen cockhead down further, stopping at the bottom of your clit before letting out a shuddering, ‘phew.’

“c- choso, fuck,” you moan, still feeling staticky tingles roam through every vein of your body. that was unlike any feeling you’ve felt before. as his eyes soften, meeting your gaze—choso’s nudely glistening body shadows over yours. seconds later, he slowly trails his head down, propping himself between your legs. through hazy lensed eyes, you peer down, peeping at him while finding a hand of yours pawing its way through his tangled inky strands of hair. “mhh.”

“baby,” choso whispers hoarsely, his voice a bit rough and gritty from moaning for so long. such detail made you throb and he knew it too. leisurely, he’s beginning to lick a straight slope up your weeping cunt.

he can’t help but give it a open stare for a few seconds, taking your beauty from between your legs alllll in. it’s so pretty ‘n puffed — dribbling from the sides of your slick own arousal that shot out a shimmering geyser just a few seconds ago.

you’re tender, and he can’t help but slather his hot pink tongue between the crevices of your folds. “think . . you can be my sloppy girl one time?” and as he gives your pussy one quick french kiss, he pouts at you with a wry pussy drunk grin.

“pretty please?”

#★vegasbaby.#choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #choso x you #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #female reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk #smut

11K notes · View notes

gojosprettyprincess · 5 months ago

Text

Boyfriend Yuji who's obsessed with your boobs!

Both are twenty ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

“Yuji! Can you stop fucking staring at my breasts for a second and actually listen to me!” your glossy lips formed into a angry pout as you glared at him with annoyance. Arms crossing furiously beneath your boobs—slightly lifting them, making your cleavage even more visible through your low-cut top.

You were babbling to him about some steamy drama that unfolded at your workplace today but it seems like his absent mind had taken interests in something else.

It's like his eyes had an invisible string connected to your tits that forced him to look every single second. His mouth slightly gaped in awe, mind running wild as he imagined what the mounds of flesh would feel like under his calloused palms—well unfortunately for you, he let his intrusive thoughts get the best of him today.

You yelped unexpectedly as he groped your soft tits together—squeezing them as if they were squishy stress balls, making both spills out of your top even more. Both of his hands were engulfing them, he started fondling with them like some sick perverted man but you quickly intervened before he got the chance to successfully pop them out of your top.

You quickly slapped his roaming hands away. “Yuji!, You fucking pervert!”. You furrowed your brows together as his ears turned crimson, he embarrassingly scratched the back of his neck, laughing as if it were funny.

“Sorry baby, they just look really soft and squishy all the time, can't help myself”. He chuckles, trying to play innocent as if his pants didn't just grow tighter after hearing you calling him a perv.

Yuji loves riling you up like this—seeing his hot, attractive girlfriend all pouty and angry, calling him filthy names that never failed to make his cock stubbornly hard and horny but he won't ever admit it.

9K notes · View notes

coweye · 7 months ago

Text

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.

He’s just Logan.

You bury yourself deeper in his neck.

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.

He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #worst logan #worst logan x reader #worst logan x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine you x #wolverine deadpool #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #wolverine #james howlett x reader #james howlett #james howlett x you #wolverine deadpool fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction

11K notes · View notes

anyroads · 1 year ago

Text

No but this is a legit tag, though. In a world where people have moved on while vulernable/high-risk people have been left behind, especially in the past couple of months when the infection rates and hospitalizations have gone up so drastically while people continue to not mask and/or get a booster vax, I completely relate to the experience of looking at a post like this and feeling like your grief and trauma are being ignored by the world around you when you thought it had shared it.

That doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to use media to escape your own trauma around covid, of course you should! But if you don't qualify a post like OP's with a "let's keep this fun and not talk about The Thing" or something to that effect, then you can very reasonably expect this reaction. Mentioning the year 2020 has a direct association with the absolute worst moments of the pandemic for most people. Sorry not sorry OP, but you can't just strike the nerve of a worldwide trauma while ignoring that you're doing so and then be upset when someone reacts with their trauma being triggered.

The notes on this post are wild, by the way. People calling others shitstain in the face of their trauma. OP calling the person whose tags they screenshot selfish. We all have trauma from 2020. You're not the only one. Everyone's looks different. You don't have to tend to other people's and take care of them, but it also costs you nothing to not attack someone and be an asshole to them for it either.

Feeling an incredibly weird specific nostalgia but what piece of media defined 2020 for you (as in you spent that year with it) mine is mtv's catfish

#I get that OP is sensitive about this but I hope it occurred to them that they're not the only one #I say as I sit here hoping that I'm finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of 3.5 years of long covid #I literally feel invisible and have done so for over a year #like yeah I absolutely relate to those tags as someone who was disabled by covid and struggled with being left behind #and having to argue with family members - including doctors - just to get them to test before seeing me so I don't get covid again #I get told 'you can't live in fear' and 'it's over' as if practical safeguarding steps were fear and as if the infection rate wasn't raging #another bout of covid would completely wreck my body and I struggle enough to work part time as it is #which I do because I have no choice; my career is in shambles and I'm just starting to be able to pick up its pieces #while everyone else goes on with their lives and forgets about people like me #I tried really hard to be chill in this post but yeah OP really hit on some trauma and then was like 'you're selfish for being traumatized'

18K notes · View notes

andvys · 3 months ago

Text

Secrets I have held in my heart (are harder to hide than I thought)E.M.

⭐︎ Warnings: 18+, mdni! idiots to lovers, best friends to lovers, smut smut smut, lots of pining, mentions of unrequited feelings (they're not), slight angst, unprotected sex, breeding kink? kinda. alcohol and weed consumption. high sex?

⭐︎ Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 20.4k

⭐︎ Summary: A weekend alone with Eddie at Steve's cabin reveals all yours and his deepest desires, feelings you were too afraid to act upon bubbling to the surface, leading to a steamy night that might change you and your best friend forever.

⭐︎ Author's note: I've been meaning to write a best friends to lovers with Eddie for a while now (especially after writing ikyllatk, if you know you know. this is Cheer and Eddie to me in a different universe hehe). @hellfire--cult and I went feral over this idea and we've been talking about this since foreverrrrr and here we are finally! thank you for inspiring me, love ♡

⭐︎ the library

divider made by @cafekitsune

The sun is beating down on your skin, kissing it with warmth as the cold water from the lake is still clinging to your body, making goosebumps appear as you shiver the slightest bit. Your eyes are closed, a content smile rests on your face, despite the way your blue lips tremble. Birds are chirping all around you, the trees rustle whenever the wind blows, the water splashes when your best friend makes his way out of the lake, cursing a few times when he steps over the sharp rocks on the ground.

You don’t open your eyes just yet but you listen to him moving closer and closer to where you’re laying on the pink towel you threw on the grass earlier. You don’t have to take a look to know that he is staring at you, he always is. Like a weight on your body, his stare always feels like a warm blanket, heating up your insides and making you feel something you shouldn’t.

Eddie’s eyes are roaming your body, your glistening bare skin, the skimpy bikini bottoms that are only held together by the strings on the sides, the little bow coming undone slowly. He kneels down before you, making a gasp fall from your lips when the water from his hair drips on your belly and his cold hands touch your hip, fingers reaching for the strings so he can fix the little bow.

You open your eyes to find him looking down with a smug smile as he plays with the strings on your bottoms, re-tying it for you. Your breath hitches in your throat from the touch of his hand and the closeness of him, if you were to sit up, your noses would bump together but you stay in place, only pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, sweets,” he chuckles softly, taking his sweet time as his fingertips graze your bare hip, “didn’t mean to get you wet,” he smirks, a look of mischief flashes in his eyes as water continues to drip from his body onto yours.

“Are you sure?” You challenge him the way you always do, blinking at him innocently as you bring your knees up higher and bite your lip, making him gulp and blush instantly.

You always know how to break him.

Eddie is oh so confident and flirty, throwing looks and comments your way that are a little too suggestive for someone who is considered a best friend, but the moment you join in on his game, even if only subtly, he turns into a blushing mess, no longer the confident, cocky guy he wishes to be.

But even when he turns into this, blushing and nervous, you can still feel that one certain energy radiating off him and it makes you squirm, it fills you with curiosity and the urge to cross that invisible line, your deepest desires, the ones that are locked away begging to be released. You never let them, you never even looked or paid attention to what you really wanted or craved. You played his game, you flirted back, you teased him but you never admitted to yourself that there was… something.

“Hm, no,” Eddie murmurs, suggestively. He ties the knot, strongly and then, he hooks his finger around the strap, he pulls it back and lets it snap against your skin, making you jolt in your place, a tiny gasp falling from your lips once more as a bigger smirk appears on his face. His eyes roam your body, he takes you in fully before he leans back and plops down on his own towel, laying down, he places his arm behind his head, closing his eyes to the sun, he lets out a sigh of contentment, acting as though he didn’t just touch you the way best friends normally don’t do. Asshole.

“This is nice, I’m glad we came out here.”

You hum in agreement, taking advantage of the fact that his eyes are closed, you allow yourself to take a closer, better look at the man who had become your best and closest friend. He is attractive, very handsome, you aren’t blind, you never have been but he is your friend, you never allowed yourself to look at him a certain way but lately it’s become harder to stay so… blind, to not let his lingering touches make you weak in the knees, to not let his comments fill you with giddiness, to not feel something when he holds you in his arms, when he plays with your hair or places his hand on your thigh when you’re in his passenger seat.

You don’t know where this sudden change has come from, it’s always been that way with him, from the very beginning, he’s been touchy and affectionate with you but it didn’t always make you so excited, it’s been a recent development, something that Nancy and Robin teased you about, they saw your reactions whenever he kissed your cheek and called you pet names, whenever he walked into a room only smiling the moment his eyes would meet yours.

You never noticed it before, the feelings he left you with after all his sweet gestures and touches, only when your friends had brought it up to you, leaving you a blushing and a confused mess, did you start to open your eyes… a little, and suddenly things started to change, your reactions to his comments, no matter if they are flirty or sweet, your reactions to his lingering touches, the way his fingers would play with yours, the way they would drum against your skin, so very close to the hem of your skirt or your shirt, the way he would tuck your hair behind your ear or wipe the foam off your upper lip after taking the first sip of your morning latte before taking his thumb into his mouth and licking it off, moaning while doing so – what was normal before, suddenly wasn’t anymore, everything he did, everything he does now drives you crazy and leaves you yearning for more but you never dared to be the one to take another step forward, to cross that daring line, to make the first real move.

He is still Eddie, your best friend, your soulmate, the person you don’t want to lose, especially over something like this, over reading into something that might not be there, over losing control of your own feelings. After all, this could all just be a part of… him. Maybe it’s just who he is, affectionate, teasing, flirty, daring. Maybe he is like that with everybody, not just you.

But maybe not, maybe you are the only one and maybe, just maybe he is waiting for you to be the one to make another move, to take another step, maybe he has been waiting, maybe he has been waiting for a while now.

You bite your lips so hard, you almost rip the skin open, your eyes are glued to his form, to the way his chest rises up and down, his wet hair a mess around him, lashes fluttering as his eyes are squeezed shut, your fingers itch to touch the ink on his pale skin, you lick your lips as your eyes follow his happy trail, mouth watering at the way his swim trunks are so low on his hips, his bulge so… god, you need to stop – but how can you? Your best friend is just so pretty. And his hands are so big, fingers so long and you have felt them on your skin before but you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t think about them in other places.

Your cheeks heat up at your own thoughts, though it doesn’t stop you from daydreaming some more and the longer you do, the more you start to lose yourself in them, wondering about all the different what if’s, wondering what would happen if you just made the move your friends have begged you to make, to be more daring, to be more teasing, to break him enough for him to do something you both clearly want.

A bravery you don’t usually have, surges through your body, taking over completely. The urge to tease him back the way he teases you is so strong, so before you chicken out, before you think too much and too long, you reach behind you, undoing the bow he tied on your bikini top, you turn away from him and take the skimpy black thing off, throwing it down next to you, the cool breeze kisses your skin and if Eddie opened his eyes right now, he’d be met with the sight of your bare chest.

You press your lips together and turn around, flipping your hair over your shoulder, you lay down on your stomach, stretching your arms out and letting out a sigh of contentment. You turn your head into his direction but close your eyes, even though you’re dying to see his reaction to you being topless but you are trying to play it cool, like it’s nothing.

Eddie peeks one eye open after listening to all your movement and he almost chokes on his spit when he does, jaw falling slack, both eyes shoot open as he takes in the sight of you, of the skin that wasn’t bare only seconds ago – how, when, what?

He blinks, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted as he is gawking at you, at the way your boobs are pressed against the towel beneath you, at the softness of your skin, at the single drops of water still clinging to your body that he wants to touch oh so badly, your hair looks so shiny and soft, your face so content as you lay half naked next to him.

Eddie’s cheeks heat up when he realizes that he would have seen you bare if only he opened his eyes a few seconds sooner. He licks his lips, nearly drooling over the sight of you. Suddenly, his trunks feel tighter than before when his mind takes him to places he only reserves for late nights when he is all alone and not afraid to risk to pop a boner.

He tries to look away, he really does but he can’t, not when you look this hot. He allows his eyes to roam again and it only makes his case worse, his breathing quickens, his skin heats up, his hands itch to touch your soft skin, his lips long to trail kisses down your body, to have a little taste of you.

If you were his, he would, he would start on your neck and he would kiss down to your shoulder and then your back, and he’d take it lower and lower until his lips would reach those skimpy panties, he’d take them off and taste you the way he always dreamed of, he’d lick a stripe up your pussy, suck on your clit, eat you out like the starved man that he is and he would get lost in your moans and your whines, in the pleasure that only he could make you feel.

Eddie clears his throat, he nearly curses when he feels his dick twitching in need of you. He clenches his jaw, even more so when he sees your lips twitching into a smirk. Oh… Oh.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, his breath halting for a moment when he realizes what you did, you did this on purpose, you aimed to tease him.

It’s not exactly something new, you being a tease but you have never taken things this far, you have never stepped up to his level.

But now that you did… he can take things further as well, right?

If you decide to tease him like this, then he will tease right back.

He pushes himself up, adjusting his trunks, he nearly lets out a groan when you wiggle your butt a little, pretending to get more comfortable.

He bites his lip as he looks around in search for the sunscreen you have brought with you, he finds the bottle peeking out of your bag. He presses his palm on the grass beneath him, leaning over your body to reach for the yellow bottle.

“What’re you doing, Eds?” You murmur, rather seductively

A smirk tugs at Eddie’s lips, the tone in your voice tells him that you believe you are in charge here and… maybe you are, right now, but he won’t let you win so easily.

He chuckles lowly when a gasp tears from your pretty lips after he squirts the cold cream on your back.

“Don’t want you to get burned, sweetheart,” he whispers, closing the cap of the bottle, he throws it on the ground before he lays his palms flat against your hot skin, spreading the white cream all over your back.

You grow flustered and you start blushing, your breathing gets heavier and you visibly gulp when he starts massaging the sunscreen into your skin. You suck in a sharp breath when his hands move up to your shoulders, gripping you there for a moment before he moves back down, the coldness of his rings making you shudder a little.

Eddie can’t even hide the smug look on his face after feeling your reaction, pride swelling in his chest when you sigh so beautifully because of his touch.

You easily get lost in this, eyelashes fluttering, soft breaths and sighs falling from your lips as his strong hands move up and down your skin, touching you in ways that make you squirm beneath him.

“Feels good,” you whisper as you arch your back a little, not knowing that just a small movement like this is enough to drive him insane, once again.

“Fuck,” he curses softly under his breath, he swallows harshly.

“What was that?” You ask, not hiding the smugness in your voice, very well.

“Nothing,” he lies, “nothing, sweets.”

“You sure?”

He hums, shaking his head at your teasing, at the way you think that you will win the game that he started.

Eddie moves his hands down to your sides, making sure to get the cream everywhere, so you won’t get burned, of course. His fingers dip dangerously low to the side of your boobs, and while it was only meant to tease you, to get a reaction out of you, he realizes that it was a mistake, only a little too late – it only makes his case worse when he feels just how soft and smooth your skin is that is usually hidden under all your clothes, when he feels himself craving to touch a little lower, to feel more of you, to make you feel–

“Mmmh.”

Eddie freezes, hands halting at your sides, his big brown eyes widen and his lips part once again, he stares at the back of your head, stunned.

You moaned at his touch, whimpered even, making those butterflies in his stomach feel stronger than ever.

“Why’d you stop?” You mumble, wiggling your butt as though to tell him to keep going.

Do you even know the power you hold over him?

Do you even understand what you do to him?

Eddie bites his lip, he bites hard, hard enough to taste iron. He sucks in a sharp breath, biting back the growl that threatens to fall from his mouth when he adjusts behind you, the rough material of his swim trunks rubbing against his dick. He is fucking rock hard and if you only turned around to take a look at him, you would see it.

“I’m sorry, got a little distracted,” he says lowly, voice getting a little shaky.

He feels so hot, and it’s not the sun that is making him sweat, it’s all you.

He can see the way your lip twitches, the way your dimple shows when you smirk at his words.

“Oh? By what, the birds?” You giggle.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your question even though your eyes are still closed. He takes a moment to look at your surroundings, at the beautiful scenery, the trees and the big lake in front of Steve’s cabin – well, his parents cabin.

God, he wonders where this weekend will take him, you and him.

A weekend you were both supposed to spend with your friends, turned into this. Just you and him, and no one else.

It’s only day one, and you are already close to making him cum in his swim trunks, like some pathetic teenage boy who couldn’t handle his crush’s teasing or touching.

This will either be the best weekend of his life, or this might kill him – if you are only teasing, then this will surely kill him but if you are not, then he owes your friends a lot, for pretending to be sick or busy. He knows that they were lying when Robin fake coughed on the phone after telling him that she couldn’t make it, that she and Steve couldn’t make it, cause he got sick too… apparently.

And Nancy forgot that she promised to help her mom with something, and if Nancy couldn’t come, then Jonathan couldn’t either of course – which led to Argyle staying back as well, cause where would he ever go without his best buddy?

Eddie looks back down at you, at his best friend, who is laying half naked before him so comfortably, teasing him so freely. Another sigh escapes your lips and you squirm beneath him once again.

Yeah, no matter how this will end, you will be the death of him.

“Yeah, the birds,” he mumbles, snorting at his own words.

He leans down closer to you, squeezing your sides which makes you jolt a little, a giggle falling from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the sweet sound, “I forgot how ticklish you are,” he teases, as if.

“Mhmm sure you did, Eddie.”

With a mischievous smile, he decides to take his teasing further, playfully digging his fingers into your waist, he begins to tickle you, making you yelp and jolt in surprise as you start squirming beneath his touch, giggles now falling freely from your mouth as his name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, awakening those butterflies in his stomach. God, he wishes he could make you call out his name in different ways.

You jump up, with your arms covering your front, one hand pressing against your boobs, hiding only just a little as you turn to face your best friend. You watch the way his eyes widen as they instantly fall to your chest, lust flashing in them, jaw dropping as his cheeks redden right this second, his expression makes you giggle even harder, even more so when you push him back and he falls onto the grass, flat on his butt, wet curls hanging in front of his hair.

Eddie is so stunned by you, he can barely move as he stares at you, at your half naked form. God, you are so beautiful it hurts.

The afternoon sun begins to turn golden, kissing your glowy skin and all your curves, your hair cascades down your shoulders, your hand that barely hides anything pressing against your boobs, he wishes it was his own. Licking his lips, he pushes himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes roam your body, shamelessly, dreaming about the way he would love to get between those delicious looking thighs of yours, the way he’d kiss every inch of your body, leaving no trace unmarked, the way he would nuzzle his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent, not playfully the way he usually does, but with a trail of kisses that he would leave behind.

He would worship you in ways he can’t even begin to describe. Oh, how often Eddie finds himself up at night, working on yet another song about you, thinking of words that haven’t been created yet, strong enough to describe you.

He feels uncomfortable in his swim trunks that are getting a little too tight, his skin feels on fire, not from the sun but from you. He lusts after you, yes, but there is also more than that, so much more. It isn’t just the lust that makes these feelings so intense, it’s all his deepest feelings for you, feelings that only his notebook filled with song texts know about… and maybe your friends, who aren’t as oblivious as you are.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and you should too,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Eddie clears his throat, watching you get up, not bothering to pick up your top or your dress that you wore earlier, you simply keep your chest hidden by your right arm.

“You’re helping me cook dinner,” you give him a pointed look before you turn around and begin to walk back to the house.

Eddie smiles cheekily as he pushes himself up further, eyes glued to your butt now.

“Are you telling me to get into the shower with you?” He calls after you, unaware of the butterflies that he caused in your stomach now.

You don’t turn around, you keep walking, hiding the flustered expression on your face from him. You flip him off without looking back, biting back your smile when he laughs loudly.

Eddie watches, craning his neck to see more of you, the way your butt jiggles as you skip up the stairs. He bites his lip, groaning at the sight of it.

“Goddamn.”

You will be the death of him.

It’s dark outside by the time Eddie comes out of the steamy bathroom, the cabin is mostly dark too, candles illuminate the living room and the sound of music fills the space. A smile lingers on his face as he makes his way down the hallway, his wet curls bouncing with each step that he takes, he throws on a clean shirt, his gray sweatpants hang low on his hips.

A groan almost falls from his lips when he walks into the kitchen to you standing there in nothing but one of his shirts, now that sight is nothing new to him but it never fails to take his breath away, though usually you have on more than just the shirt. Your bare legs are glowy beneath the dim lights, from hours in the sun and that delicious smelling cream you always put on your skin after showering, you sway your hips to the music, shirt riding up in the process. Eddie can’t help but wonder if you are wearing any panties at all beneath his shirt. Fuck. He shouldn’t let his mind go there, you have done enough teasing for the day, he almost jerked off in the shower and maybe he should have, maybe that would have released some of the tension in him but he wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet, he never is.

God, this really will be a long weekend filled with torture and teasing. He knows he should probably stop playing this dangerous game but he just can’t help but play into it.

He slowly makes his way to you, you’re humming to the music, knife held in your hand as you cut up vegetables, an opened bottle of beer on the counter before you, your damp hair is braided loosely, falling down your back. He can smell your body wash from here, the sweetness of it – of you is so intoxicating to him, he wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around your waist, pull you into him and bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhale your scent and kissing your soft skin, he craves it so very badly, even more so, he craves for it to be something normal.

Eddie wants you to be more than just his best friend.

Everybody knows it, everybody but you.

And maybe it’s better this way, maybe he would lose you if you did find out.

You might be a tease, you might let him touch you in ways no one else is allowed to, you might give him hope sometimes, the hope that you could feel more than just something platonic for him but at the end of the day you are still best friends and he can’t lose that, especially not because he can’t control his feelings.

Because what happens when you do find out and you don’t feel the same?

What happens then?

What happens if it drives you away?

What happens if he loses you?

And he can’t allow that to happen, he can’t lose you, not you, anyone but you.

Eddie knows he should do himself a favor and stop being so touchy and affectionate with you, it does him no good, if anything, it makes him want you even more but he can’t help it, he has to take what he can get… right?

He comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, he breathes in your sweetness, chuckling when you tense up for a second before a cute giggle falls from your lips.

“You scared me,” you whisper, tilting your head back, you look up at him as you ease into his touch.

“Sorry sweets, didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, teasing you with that pretty smile of his as he snatches a piece of the cucumber you’ve been cutting and bites into it, winking at you as he steps away again and takes a look into the large pot on the stove.

“Pasta?”

“Pasta Arrabiata,” you say, imitating the Italian accent that Steve always makes whenever he is cooking.

Eddie chuckles, “wow that was horrible.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, scrunching your nose at him.

If you knew how his heart flutters at your laughter and at your cute nose scrunches.

“Since when do we put cucumber in pasta?”

The disgusted look on your face makes him laugh again, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you up and down.

“I’m also making a salad, it’s for you, you need to eat more veggies.”

His lips curl into yet another smile, warmth blooms in his chest.

You take care of him, you always do. From making sure that he eats enough when he gets a little too lost in writing songs or working on campaigns to making sure that he wears a hat and a scarf when it’s cold outside, whether it’s something small or big, you are always there to look after him, you’ve always been there.

“Alright, I’m eating the greens just for you, sweets.”

He licks his lips as he eyes every inch of your exposed skin, tracing your soft features with the longing look in his brown eyes. The way his shirt looks on your body, the way your hair falls in front of your eyes despite you tucking it behind your ear just moments ago, the way you bite your lower up as you give him a disapproving look.

“No,” you shake your head, pointing your knife at him, “you gotta eat them for yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” He smirks, closing the gap between you both again, you instantly lower the knife and place it on the counter.

You shrug, teasing him with a sweet smile, “what if I am?”

Eddie licks his lips, inching closer and closer to you, a smile tugs at his mouth, he hums as he raises his hand up to your face, combing his fingers through your wet hair before he tucks the fallen pieces behind your ear again.

He is unaware of the effect he has on you, of the fluttering in your chest, of the burning in your skin, of the shaky breaths you suck in.

“Then I think that’s really hot,” he winks at you as he moves his hand down your neck and then your shoulder, sliding it down along your spine, lower and lower until he’s holding your hip and pressing himself against you as he moves onto your other side, slower than necessary.

Your lips part in surprise, every trace that he has touched starts to burn, your knees grow weak and your heart starts beating faster – how much longer can you deny the emotions he causes inside you?

“So, how can I help?”

He is teasing you, you can hear it in his voice, and you don’t have to turn around to face him to know that there is a smirk on his face.

“Set the table, pick a movie to watch later, dinner is almost ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs into your ear before he walks away without another word, giving you a moment to take a few deep breaths.

You take a sip of your cold beer, closing your eyes for a moment, you listen to your beating heart, you feel the goosebumps on your skin, you feel the rush of blood to your cheeks, the weakness you feel for your best friend.

How much longer can you deny what is really inside of you, that it’s not just physical attraction?

Your heart flutters when his deep voice sounds through the dining room as he sings along to the music, your lips curl into an adoring smile. You can hear him rummaging through the drawers, trying to find the table cloth you assume.

Picking up the knife again, you continue chopping your vegetables, finishing up on your salad, though you quickly get lost in this… domestic energy you both have created. It feels so warm, so safe, so familiar. A feeling you can’t imagine sharing with anyone other than your Eddie.

He comes back into the kitchen, humming, he grabs two plates and cutlery and places them on the counter before he passes by you, without a teasing smile or comment, he places his hand on your lower back, he reaches over your shoulder to retrieve two wine glasses from the shelf and steps away again, leaving the kitchen once more.

It all feels so natural, so normal and yet, it makes you struggle to breathe because the butterflies in your stomach go wild – just the way they always do, but now it becomes harder and harder to not pay attention to them.

You take another deep breath, willing yourself to calm down, to push aside your feelings, to keep doing what you did before… be unaware of what is buried deep within your heart. So, you move along and distract yourself with finishing cooking dinner, not allowing your mind to take you further into this pit of hell as you call it, because that’s what love and feelings are, hell.

There is no good in love, there is no peace in having feelings.

It’s a rollercoaster ride that ends no matter how long it lasts, pleasant or not, it ends.

And you refuse to let feelings get in the way of yours and Eddie’s friendship, he means too much to you to risk taking a step further into something that your stupid heart desires, you love him too much to let your lingering feelings ruin what you both have, besides… who is to say that he could feel something for you?

You are his best friend and he is yours, that’s all you’ve ever been and it’s all you’ll ever be, best friends, nothing more or less, best friends who are affectionate with one another, who tease each other, who sleep in each other’s arms and do things that other best friend’s might not do… Though when you step into the dining room with the heavy pot in your hands, you halt in your tracks, freezing at the sight before you.

The table is set but not like usual, it makes you struggle to keep pushing away those feelings that have been sneaking their way to the surface because why did he place the plates so close to each other when the table is so big? And why did he place candles on the table and light them up instead of keeping the lights on? And why did he change the channel on the radio? Why is slow music playing instead of the rock channel he usually settles for when there is no better option for him?

You can handle his teasing, you can handle his touching, his flirting, his suggestive comments and looks he gives you so often.

But this is something else, this is something that would have normally made you run, a table set up so romantically, a dinner that seems to become something intimate. Yeah, if someone else had set this up, you would’ve definitely ran, you would’ve felt anxious, suffocated.

Those feelings don’t exist with him though, it’s quite the opposite, even with the lingering fear inside of you for what you feel for him. You feel giddy.

“Picked the movie, sweets,” Eddie calls from the living room, snapping you out of your troubled thoughts. He enters the room with a grin on his face.

You clear your throat and finally take the final steps to the table, putting down the pot in the middle, you glance at your best friend.

“Yeah? What’d you pick?”

“Something neither of us have seen yet,” he winks at you, moving closer and closer until he is right in front of you again. He grabs the chair and pulls it back, gazing down at you with his dark eyes, “sit.”

“I gotta get the rest of the food–”

“I’ll get it, now sit down, princess,” he murmurs.

Whenever his voice gets so low, your knees feel like they’ll buckle at any moment, shivers run down your spine and your cheeks grow hot.

“Alright,” you chuckle, plopping down on the wooden chair, you gaze up at your best friend, batting your eyelashes at him.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, there is not much you have to do to drive him crazy.

“Smells really good in here,” he comments, the mouth watering smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread makes his stomach growl.

“Thanks Eds, now get the rest of the food before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks at you, squeezing your shoulder before he turns around and makes his way out of the room and into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath when he’s gone, rolling your shoulders and trying to calm your nerves, your heart is racing and it makes you feel ridiculous. You are here with Eddie, your best friend, Eddie. You got nothing to feel nervous about, you’ve been here plenty of times before, at dinner alone with him… though, it was never like this, you never had candle light dinners with slow music playing in the back. And his touches, his smiles, his voice never drove you this crazy before, he never made your heart flutter, his hands never made your skin feel hot, he never made you feel like you’d fall to the ground because your knees felt like jelly, he never made you feel those things before until recently… or did he?

“I’m starving,” Eddie says dramatically as he places the salad bowl and the garlic bread on the table. Before he takes a seat, he opens the wine bottle and reaches for your glass, he glances at you as he starts pouring it in your glass, he notices your flushed cheeks and how fidgety you are in your seat as you eye him up and down, it makes his heart flutter.

“We can’t have that,” you chuckle, reaching for his plate, you start filling it with salad first to which he protests, claiming that it will only make him starve even more. “You need some healthy food!”

“Not too much of it though,” he shakes his head as he lifts the lid of the pot, inhaling with a smile on his face, “I need that.”

Your giggle makes his smile widen.

“Alright.”

“You know I love your pasta,” he grins as he watches you fill the plate.

“That’s Steve’s pasta,” you chuckle.

“Nah, that’s his recipe, you cooked it,” he retorts, tilting his head to the side, “besides, you do it better.”

Warmth fills your chest and your cheeks, your smile gets even bigger now.

“Don’t tell him that! He’ll be distraught!”

“Don’t worry, it’s our secret,” he mumbles with a grin on his face as he finally takes the seat across from you, taking the plate from your hands when you hand it to him with a soft ‘thank you’.

He waits for you to fill your own plate before he picks up the fork or even takes a sip of the wine you picked when you went grocery shopping together this morning. He leans back and takes a look around, your surroundings are so different than usual, so unlike the small apartment he recently moved into where you eat your dinners at his tiny kitchen table. He appreciates the home cooked meals you always bless him with and the way you always want to take care of him, it makes him feel warm, it makes him feel safe.

Eddie wants to do the same for you, he wants to make you feel the way you make him feel but he believes that he can’t measure up, that he can’t give you what you give him, that he can’t provide you the same feeling of safety or warmth and maybe that is the sole reason why he hasn’t made a move on you yet, not because he is scared of ruining your friendship – god, he wants to ruin it so bad. But because you deserve more than he can give you, you deserve this, a big house with a stupid fireplace, a big garden, stability, someone who can take care of you, someone who can give you more than a small, shitty apartment, someone who can give you more than just the flowers he gives you or the pastries he brings you when you’re taking your lunch breaks at work.

Yeah, your friendship is very precious to him, he is scared of losing you, every goddamn day he wonders if this will be the day where you don’t show up for him but it isn’t the reason for his lack of effort in fighting for what he actually wants, it’s the fact that he believes that you deserve better than him, someone less like him, someone more like… Steve.

So he settles for loving you from afar, he tries to spoil you, he tries as best as he can. He teases you whenever he gets the chance to, he becomes giddy when you react to it, when you blush and giggle or even tease him back the way you did today, it sparks something in him, maybe it’s confidence or maybe just an illusion that you could feel the same, whatever it is, he basks in the feeling in those moments.

His eyes soften and the beating of his heart becomes stronger as he watches you, the way you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, the way your beautiful eyes shine in the dim light, the light flush in your cheeks making you look so damn cute, the way your smile only widens when you glance at him, a small huff falling from your mouth.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, putting down your plate before you.

You.

He always looks at you.

Eddie knows he won’t have this forever, someday you will meet someone who will give you everything that he wishes he could, someday he won’t be the one sitting across from you enjoying your dinner, someday he won’t be the one in your life.

“At your shirt, is it new… or?” He teases, acting like he didn’t just get lost in his head, thinking of your future that he might not be a part of.

You look down at his shirt, smiling proudly, you stole it from him the last time you stayed over, “mhm got it from this store called the drawer.”

Eddie snorts, though he adores the look on your face, “you’re so lame, the drawer? Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, picking up the fork you start eating happily.

“Who sold it to you?” Eddie asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Oh, this uh… really handsome guy, said he’s in a band, corroded coffin?” You raise your brow, pretending to think. “Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Eddie’s stomach flips in excitement at the compliment. You’ve called him handsome plenty of times before, but it never fails to make him blush.

“Damn, he sounds really cool,” Eddie says, laughing.

You nod, a serious and adoring look now flashing in your features, no hint of amusement behind those eyes, no teasing, just pure adoration for him, “he is, he is the coolest actually.”

He gets flustered easily when he’s with you but when you look at him like this, with that sweet smile and those soft eyes, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to say or how to act, so he hides his face by looking down at the delicious food in front of him, a sheepish smile resting on his face, one that makes your own even bigger. He finally takes a bite of the pasta and his eyes instantly close as he moans at the taste of it, making you giggle yet again.

“Fuck me, yeah I’m sorry sweets, but I ain’t letting you get married, you’re stuck with me,” he jokes as he takes another bite, completely forgetting about all the anxious thoughts that swirled in his mind just moments ago.

“Oh, you mean I’m stuck being your private chef?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, chewing on the garlic bread slowly, you try to ignore the heat building up in your stomach as you look into his chocolate eyes, waiting for him to say that word.

“Oh, then what would you call it?”

Eddie looks at you through hooded eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his plump lips.

“Housewife.”

A surprised giggle falls from your lips, though your cheeks start burning, especially under his gaze. Something tugs at your chest, something strong, something warm. Housewife. You never craved to be that, you never had such desires. Sure, you always dreamed of finding the one, finding true love, finding someone who will love you the way you can love, the way you always wished to love but that’s it, you never imagined yourself past the dating stage, you never daydreamed of weddings and a husband, you never thought of becoming a wife, a housewife at that but… when you think of yourself as that with Eddie by your side, with your best friend, with the one who had always been by your side through thick and thin, something in you beats a little stronger.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze to his ringed fingers, you can’t help but let your mind take you to sacred places.

Eddie watches you intensely, eyes lighting up at the flustered state you are suddenly in, a state he only ever sees you in when he teases you with touches, with pick up lines, with his flirtations but never this. There is a little spark in him now, the sparkle of hope.

“Well that would make you my husband.” Your voice is shaky, filled with nerves and something else that he can’t decipher at this moment.

Oh, Eddie would put a ring on your fingers right this second.

He never really planned his future, he never really saw one, especially not one in which he would be happy with a wife and kids by his side but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t want these things with you. You make him crave things that were never even a thought of his before he met you, you make him want to be that for you, a husband.

He doesn’t believe that he can give you what you want, what you need, what you deserve but he knows one thing for sure, if he was given the chance, he would make you so damn happy.

“Would that be so bad?”

You look up again and into his eyes, something in them is different now, something in the way he looks at you is so… intense and raw, there is a softness in them, one stronger than usual.

Would that be bad?

You shake your head before you can even come up with the right words to say, or with words you should say. Something has changed, perhaps a long time ago or just now, but you know one thing for sure, your heart never beat this strongly before and your hands never itched to touch his so badly.

You know the truth is hidden behind the walls you have put up, but that wall started crumbling a long time ago, long before you had the chance to even notice.

The energy in the room has shifted into something more… intimate and it’s not the candles or the music, it adds to it, but those aren’t the main reasons, it’s the energy you both have created, it’s the lingering touches, it’s his foot touching yours under the table, not playfully like usual, it’s different, it’s all so different but it’s good. A comfortable silence takes over the room as you continue eating and as the seconds and the minutes pass, and you both sip on your wines, pouring a second glass, you both get a little bolder when the alcohol hits you.

Your hands inch closer and closer to each other, your eye contact becomes a little more intense, making your breathing stutter and your heart skip several beats.

And when he is done with his food, he pushes his plate aside and leans his elbows on the table, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath and then, he brushes his fingertips against your own before he envelopes your hand fully, taking it into his large one.

You can’t describe the feelings rushing through you, he held your hand plenty of times before but until now, you never let yourself feel the rush of it, you never allowed yourself to pay attention to the electric feeling cursing through your veins but you allow it now, slowly… you allow it.

“They’re really missing out, aren’t they?” You speak the first words that come to your mind as you stare into your best friend's beautiful eyes.

Eddie looks around the dining room, shrugging when he looks back at you, his eyes roaming your face, his lips curl into a smile.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it just being the two of us, we never really get the chance to be alone like this.”

You nod in agreement, “that’s true, I like it too,” you murmur before you reach for your glass and take a big sip of wine.

“More wine and weed for us,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes playfully, setting the glass back down, you tilt your head to the side, “speaking of weed, wanna roll us a joint?”

Eddie doesn’t want to let go of your hand just yet but he nods, he could use that relaxation anyways, maybe it will calm his nerves around you before he does something that he might end up regretting later on.

“Yeah, I’m gonna clean this up first.”

You shake your head, “no, I can do it–”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says sternly, glaring at you, “I know I said housewife, I hope you know that doesn’t mean slave.”

You can’t help but giggle at the seriousness on his face or in his voice, “Eddie, I hope you know that that’s exactly what most men think of when they want a housewife.”

He frowns in disgust, scoffing at that, he begrudgingly lets go of your hand and pushes his chair back.

“Well, most men are pigs who don’t even deserve a wife in the first place,” he says, getting up, he glares at you and points at you to stay seated. “You don’t have to do all the work, you cook, I clean up, it’s simple.”

A smile graces your features, you tap the table before you reach for the wine bottle, pouring yourself a third glass, “well then, whatever you say, husband,” you giggle and get up as well, holding your hands up in surrender when he gives you a warning glance, “don’t worry, I won’t lift a finger, I’m gonna grab my wine and wait for you in the living room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he gathers the dirty plates, “sit your pretty ass down.”

You definitely feel the wine in your system now, that fuzzy feeling and the slight dizziness feels so welcoming though.

“Yes, sir.”

Before Eddie can stop his mouth from running, those words tumble out of his mouth just like that.

“Good girl.”

You nearly choke on your spit and trip over nothing, his words rush right to your core, your cheeks start burning hotter than before.

Good girl.

He called you a good girl, with that raspy, deep voice of his that never fails to make your insides crawl with need, that never fails to ring through your head when you’re in your bed with your hand between your thighs, imagining him and his voice calling you just that.

You don’t know how you manage to keep your composure but you do, only allowing a soft giggle to leave your lips as you continue your way out of the dining room and into the living room, you round the corner and rush to the big couch where he luckily can’t see you, your knees almost buckle before you can even take a seat.

You close your eyes and sigh out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Pressing a hand to your chest, you nearly gasp at the beating of your heart.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself.

Eddie will be the death of you, you are sure of it, if not tonight then tomorrow, and if not then, then on the last day of your trip.

The veil that was hiding all your truths was already being lifted when you were still in Hawkins, slowly everything was coming out, all the feelings you were denying, all the things you were so afraid of admitting, you lost control and power a long time ago. The moment Robin opened her eyes to what was there this whole time, the moment she confronted you about your feelings for him was the moment you could no longer hide. The veil is no longer there, it’s long gone and lost with the wind.

You run your fingers through your hair and lean back into the soft cushions, taking a big gulp of the red wine that will surely give you a headache tomorrow morning, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, you begin to curse her out in your head because all your reactions to his words and touches just now only confirmed all her beliefs.

Fuck Robin for saying all that shit to you that changed your feelings and opened your eyes completely, a month ago. Fuck her for telling you that you indeed have feelings for Eddie, for your best friend. Fuck her for making you start realizing it and be self conscious for it. Fuck her for making you feel scared of losing Eddie because of it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, you open your eyes and look around the lightly dimmed room, you take in the sound of Eddie’s voice, of his humming to the music, of the way your heart flutters more and more.

You are so fucked.

You will ruin the friendship, you are sure of it.

If only you knew that this is exactly what he wants.

You keep yourself busy with your wine glass, staring into blank space as you continue letting your thoughts eat at you, letting the insecurities and the doubts creep in, when all you want to do is get lost in the feeling of what he gave to you at the dinner table, just moments ago.

You are so lost in your head, you don’t even notice the music being turned off, you don’t even hear his footsteps or his voice until he is standing right before you after throwing a bunch of different snacks on the coffee table.

“I know the munchies are gonna hit you,” your best friend chuckles as he finally sits down beside you, joint already between his fingers, lighter on the coffee table. He turns to you, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he offers you the joint.

Yeah, maybe this will help, maybe this will relax you enough to get a grip on yourself again, maybe this will stop you from doing something that will make you regret.

Your heart, your body, everything in you seems to be sick of living in denial though because before your mind can kill this moment, you are already moving forward, looking into his eyes, you lean down, closer and closer, you wrap your lips around the joint that is still snug between his fingers.

The widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, snaps you out of whatever had possessed you, though not enough, not even in the slightest.

You raise your brows at him expectedly, waiting for him to light up the joint for you.

The flush in his cheeks, the rosy color taking over his face, his squirming makes satisfaction rush you.

You were teasing him all morning, all afternoon and every time you added one more, you wanted to risk more, but now things just have gotten out of hand, you got lost in your own little game and you let your feelings, your desires take full control of you.

Poor Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself as he looks down at you, if it wasn’t for the alcohol in his system, he would lose all composure and stutter like a little kid around his crush. He manages to reach for the lighter and he never looks away from your pretty eyes or your lips, or the shirt that keeps riding up on your thighs, a little more and more.

He lights the joint and he is surprised when you don’t look away, when your eyes stay locked with his and a satisfied moan escapes you – only worsening his case. You inhale deeply and furrow your eyebrows in concentration, a lazy smile spreads on your kissable lips and you lean back further after blowing out the smoke. You bring your knees up to your chest and hand him the joint. “That’s nice,” you sigh out in pleasure, “I needed that.”

“You’re starting to sound like an addict,” Eddie smirks, hiding his blushing cheeks behind his curls as he takes the joint from your fingers and places it between his lips, unaware of the way you follow his every movement as he gets comfortable beside you, resting his feet on the table, he stretches his arm out and wraps it around the headrest behind you.

“What… movie did you pick out?” You ask him and he doesn’t even notice your stuttering or the way your eyes are glued to his exposed skin as his shirt rides up, exposing his happy trail.

Eddie shrugs, reaching for the remote, he glances at you, “I dunno, one of the movies Steve recommended we should watch.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” He nods and presses play before he throws the remote on the coffee table, “let’s see how good his taste is.”

“You already know he loves the cheesy shit,” you laugh and scoot closer to him with your wine glass still in your hand, you’re searching for his warmth.

“Yeah, he does,” Eddie chuckles.

He lowers his gaze to your thighs, noticing the goosebumps on your skin, he puts the joint into the ashtray and he reaches for the knitted blanket thrown over the couch, he spreads it open and covers your legs with it, “don’t want you freezing, sweets,” he murmurs.

Your eyes soften for him, a smile spreading on your lips. You lean forward and place your wine glass on the coffee table and then you scoot closer to him and throw the blanket over his lap as well before you place your head on his chest, snuggling up against him with a content look on your face… beside the blushing on your cheeks.

Eddie wraps his arm around you without a second thought – this is nothing unusual for you, neither is the hand holding, or the sharing of clothes or the intimate touches but everything you do today, that you usually do as well, feels so different, it makes him nervous, it makes you nervous, it feels like the first time.

And when you place your hand above his heart, he grows anxious that you might feel just how strongly it’s beating for you, he is scared that you will figure out his feelings and that that will make you run, run from him.

“Your heart is racing,” you whisper softly, causing him to tense up a little but when you press your chin against his chest and you gaze up into his eyes, he feels a sense of calmness bleed through him, safety.

Eddie blinks, not knowing what to say without giving away the truth, without giving away just how much he wants to kiss you right now, how much he wants to make you his, how badly he wants to confess and get it off his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Your angelic voice makes him feel weak, the candle light makes you look so soft, your scent makes him feel drunk, his lips yearn to touch yours, his heart screams for you.

God, he really wants to kiss you so bad.

And he wants to kiss you even more when he sees the way your own eyes flicker between his lips, his neck and his eyes. He tightens his hold on you, prompting you to scoot even closer as you lean your warm body into his as your hand slips down to his stomach, your nails grazing the sliver of exposed skin on his stomach, he nearly whimpers at the feeling. You truly know how to drive him crazy.

“Yeah,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile, “everything is perfect.”

Almost perfect.

It would be perfect if he could just grab your face and smash his lips against yours, kissing you breathless.

You bite your lower lip as you keep staring up at him, you look as though you want to say something, your eyebrows pull together whenever you hold something back, whenever you desire to speak up about something – he doesn’t pressure you to talk though, he never does, he gives you time, as always.

His eyelashes flutter, his lips part in surprise when he watches you move closer to him, closer and closer until your lips are pressed against his jaw, you peck him once before you shyly pull away and bury your face in his chest, turning your attention back to the TV right as the movie begins to play and he is glad that you do, because his eyes widen the way they probably never did before and blood rushes to his cheeks, no doubt making him look like a tomato right now, his heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest at any moment.

You were teasing him this morning, you were very clear about that, the smirk and the smugness on your face gave it away every time but you are no longer teasing now, this is different, this is something else, this is something new.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and shakily.

He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, he wonders if you know how he feels for you, he wonders if you know just what he would do for you.

“Pass me the joint?” He whispers, not recognizing his own voice due to how shaky it is.

You do as he asks, pulling away for just a second, you reach for the joint and hand it to him before you settle back comfortably against his chest, pressing your cheek tightly against it.

Despite the nervousness in him, he keeps his arm wrapped around you tightly, and he even takes it a little further, becoming a little bolder, he sneaks his hand under your shirt and lays his plat flatly against your warm back.

You sigh in contentment and curl further into him, welcoming the touch of his hand, especially when he starts rubbing up and down.

“That feels so nice,” you murmur, moaning softly, “don’t stop, Eddie.”

Of course it wasn’t the greatest move to make, of course it would backfire, of course he would be the one with the problem. It’s already not helping that you’re almost fully on top of him, hand underneath his shirt as your nails scratch against his skin and now you are moaning because of him.

He places the joint between his lips and takes a long drag, needing it desperately.

“Your hands always feel so nice, Eds.” The words tumble fall from your lips just like that, like you no longer find yourself caring about the consequences of your words or your actions, maybe it’s the alcohol and the weed in your system that makes you so careless and bold, or maybe it’s the reassuring touch of your best friend that gives you the confidence to let you say what’s on your mind.

Eddie freezes, shocked he stares at the movie playing on the screen, his hand stops moving as well for a moment, he wonders if he really heard you right. You press against his hand again, wanting more.

“And you don’t know what they can do, sweets,” he rasps into your ear, confidently and like he isn’t losing his mind over you.

A whimper sounds through the room, your whimper. You try to conceal it by coughing into your hand but he heard it, and he felt how you tensed up at his words.

He swallows harshly, squirming beneath you, he tries his hardest to hold back that growl. His hand slips from under your shirt and down to your thigh when you lean forward to reach for the joint in the ashtray.

“Rolling good joints?” You murmur, trying to hide your nervousness and how flustered you really are.

Eddie can’t help but snort, mumbling a soft ‘sure’ to your question.

Despite the tension in the room and your unwanted awkwardness, time keeps passing and the night goes on, the movie continues playing, moving into a direction that neither of you expected at the start of it – what begins with an innocent scene of the beautiful lead getting ready for her date with the guy she is keeping a secret, develops into something different, something more, something that should not have the effect on you that it does right now but when they start kissing in his car, slowly and sensually at first, her fingers buried in his long hair as his slip under her shirt, you can’t help but bite your lip. Your skin grows hot, your thighs clench together, your grip on his shirt tightens as your mind flips this scene into you kissing Eddie in his car.

The wine was supposed to help, the weed too, but neither of them did, neither of them managed to give you the calming effect that you were hoping for, if anything both only heightened your senses and intensified absolutely everything in you, because suddenly, his body feels so much closer, his cologne so much more intoxicating than usual, his touch heating your skin on fire, his breath on your skin tickles you and those evil thoughts in your head make you wonder what it would feel like to feel his breath elsewhere, to feel his lips on your skin and his hands holding you tightly, keeping you in place as his lips touch parts of you only your hands did before.

Your heart starts beating faster and you begin to lose composure, the rational voice in your head is gone for good, desire and need taking over now, a confidence you didn’t know you had rushing through you as you move your leg, pressing the heel of your foot against his shin.

And while you are getting bolder, Eddie is trying his best to stay calm, to not act upon his feelings and ruin the one good thing in his life, despite the clear signs you are currently giving, he makes no move, even when he wants nothing more but to bury his face in your neck and suck on your skin until you are marked up by him. The smell of your perfume drives him insane, the feeling of your skin pressed against his makes his stomach flutter with no end near in sight, his heart hasn’t stopped racing yet.

The blanket slips from your lower half, his shirt has ridden up on your body, revealing the panties you are wearing, the black lace resting so perfectly on your soft skin. He clenches his jaw at the sight of it, biting back the moan that wants to fall off his lips so badly.

Something else flutters now, not just his heart or those butterflies in his stomach and it makes him so uncomfortable because he won’t be able to hide it, not right now.

Soft moans fill the living room, along with the sounds of lips smacking together. You bite your lip even harder, hold onto him even tighter as your eyes stay glued to the screen, watching intently as the couple undresses each other slowly, their hands becoming more and more desperate on each other, whimpers getting louder.

You are so lost in it, you let your body move on its own, your foot continues to slide up his shin and his knee, hip angling as you twist your body further into him. As the scene gets more and more intense, the thoughts in your head do too.

The coil in your stomach grows, burning hotly, you are throbbing between your legs, growing wetter and wetter each passing second as you imagine yourself moaning like the girl on the TV – moaning for him, with him.

Eddie is frozen in place, stunned at everything that is happening this very moment, not only is the scene very erotic but the moves you are pulling now are just about enough for him to get hard – and he can’t exactly conceal anything, not when he is wearing grey sweatpants and you are tightly pressed against him.

Do you even know what you are doing to him?

When Eddie shifts beneath you and his fingers dig deeper into your skin, you lower your head and tear your eyes from the screen to his lap and your mouth waters in an instant, eyes growing wide and the burning in your stomach only worsens.

“Got a problem there, Eds?” You blurt out as you stare at the very prominent bulge.

He wants to crawl under the blanket and hide his flustered face but instead he rolls his eyes, trying to act cool, averting his gaze from you and back to the screen, pretending that it’s the girl in the movie that caused this.

“I am just a man, leave me alone…”

A giggle escapes you, and you look up at your best friend to find him blushing furiously. His long lashes kissing his skin every time he blinks, his dark eyes shine so prettily, his lips are just so… so kissable. His neck is so perfect to be marked up by you. His dark hair cascading down to his shoulders so perfectly, but you want to make a mess of him.

“Aw, poor man,” you tease him before you finally let go of any doubts, of any fears or anxious thoughts, you grab the joint from between his fingers and put it back on the ashtray and then, you lean back to him and do something that you always craved to do, you press your lips against his jaw, kissing him.

His lips part in surprise, heart stopping for a moment, he stares into blank space now as you repeat the motion, pressing your lips against his skin again and again, humming in contentment.

His legs feel like jelly and if he wasn’t sitting down already, he surely would’ve felt his knees buckle at this electric touch. Words can’t describe the feeling of this, of you. He imagined this so many times, your lips on his skin, just the imagination of it had him feeling giddy but this, he can’t even function.

You move closer and closer, your hand finding the chain around his neck, your breath kissing his skin, you gaze up at him with those pretty eyes that could make him do anything you would ask for.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing…?” He finds his voice again.

You shrug, looking at him innocently, “I don’t know, I just want to kiss your face, is that so bad?” You ask before you lean in again, not waiting for an answer from him, you press your lips back against his jaw, finger hooked around his chain and your other hand moving from his chest and up to his hair, giving it a slight pull.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, the soft smile that rested on his features before slowly falling now. He clenches his jaw when you kiss it again and again, his heart races like crazy now, the feelings in him, the love he feels for you bursting in him as he finally gets a taste of what things could be like if you were his girl.

You light up a fire in him, but make him weak at the same time, you make him feel safe but he also burns for you, he desires you in ways he wasn’t even aware existed, only a taste of this, of you, could kill him because if he can’t have you again after having you once, he surely will die slowly and torturously as he forever will be reminded of this, of what could be.

He breathes in shakily as his hands fall to your waist, gripping you tighter than ever before, it takes everything in him not to grab your face and kiss you senseless but it takes even more to stop you.

He wants this, he wants you so bad, he wants to keep feeling your lips, your touch, you.

But what is this to you?

His hand moves up to the back of your neck, he wraps his fingers around it, pulling you away softly with a deep inhale.

“Don’t do this to me now, darling,” he whispers weakly, not caring about how vulnerable he sounds, how vulnerable he must look right now.

You ignore his pleading, and you move closer again, straddling his thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck, you look into his eyes as you inch closer and closer to him, no longer caring about anything. You kiss his cheek softly and then the other, noting the soft sigh falling from his lips, the grip of his hand on you becoming tighter and stronger.

Eddie is breathing heavily now, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself as your lips are so close to his own.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You pull back to look at him, taking in the intense emotions flashing in his eyes as he stares at you with nothing but hunger, his eyes flicking back and forth between your lips and your neck.

“Why?” You whisper innocently as you lean in again and without thinking, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, a curse word falls from his lips as he clenches his jaw again.

“Because I’m trying to hold back.”

“Who says I want you to?” You ask softly and he opens his eyes again, tilting his head to the side, he furrows his brows at you.

“Don’t do this to me, baby, you know how bad I–”

The brush of your knee against his bulge as you throw your leg over his thigh completely leaves the words stuck in his throat, you straddle him the way you only ever did in his dreams.

“How bad you what?” You whisper as you slowly lean your forehead against his, letting your lips brush against his own as you gaze into his eyes.

You can see the way he is holding back from doing what he wants, what you both want, so you give him a little push. You nuzzle your nose against his, giving him that soft look that gets you anything you want, that makes him weak.

If only you knew just the feelings you cause inside of him.

Eddie takes a deep breath, he shuts down all the racing thoughts in his head and finally, he cups your cheeks, holding your face gently.

“Oh, fuck me,” he whispers and smashes his lips against yours, kissing you finally. He pushes all his fears and his insecurities aside, not wanting to dwell on them any longer, not wanting to think of them now when he gets the chance to do this and your whimper, that needy little sound that comes from you when you kiss him back only fuels his need to kiss you harder and deeper.

You press yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him tightly, you bury your fingers into his curls, taking a fistful of his hair as you move your lips against his, slowly at first. You get so lost in it, loving the way it feels to kiss his lips, to kiss your best friend. It’s everything and more than you imagined it to feel like, it feels so perfect, so right, so safe. You let yourself fall into him, melting into his embrace as his hands move down to your waist, holding you tightly the way you do to him.

The sound of your sighs and moans, lips smacking and the movie still playing in the back, whimpers coming from the girl on the TV makes it all a little more intense, because the burning in your thighs becomes unbearable, the feeling of his tongue brushing against your lower lip as he pushes you down against his bulge has you aching and yearning.

To Eddie this feels like a dream, like it’s something not real, not even close to being real because this is something that only ever lived in his mind, whether he was just thinking about you at work, while writing songs, while sitting next to you or while getting off in the middle of the night, this was only ever a dream but now it isn’t. The kiss is real, your moans are real, your body is truly pressed against his, you are sitting right on top of him, slowly dragging your hips along his aching dick and it feels so fucking good, better than he could ever even dream of.

Everything in him burns for you, his heart, his soul, every cell, every organ, you are like a drug to him that he was already addicted to before he even tried it, but now? He is gone forever. A kiss that could lead to nothing, that could only stay this, a kiss, perhaps a mistake for you that you will regret come morning, enough to break him.

What is it gonna be? The kiss that will lead to the start of something his heart screamed for since the very beginning? Or will this be his kiss of death?

He has to be sure, he needs to be sure so he pulls away, begrudgingly so, he pulls away from the kiss that he never wants to stop, breathlessly, he opens his eyes to look at you for the first time after this change between you both but you are not having it, leaning in with a whine, you peck his lips again, making his heart flutter.

“Baby–” You cut him off by kissing him again, desperately and he once again has to pull away reluctantly.

“Baby, hear me out first, fuck–” he groans when you peck his lips again, whining at him in a way that has him clenching his jaw but this time, he cups your cheeks and pulls you away from him and you finally open your eyes and look at him, pouting at him with a needy look on your face. Fuck. “Fucking hell, wait– you need to tell me if you really want this or if its the alcohol and the weed talking.”

You shake your head wildly, grabbing his wrists as you lean closer again, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chin and finally his lips again, the way you always desired to, the way you always dreamed of, the way you always denied yourself of it when it’s all you ever wanted.

“Is it the alcohol and the weed talking for you?” You murmur against his lips, looking at him through hooded eyes.

With a frown he shakes his head, “fuck no, I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart, you have no idea for how long.” He admits openly, not caring about being vulnerable right now, about admitting his feelings for you – the friendship is ruined now.

Your lips twitch, eyes shining with nothing but love for him, for your best friend, your heart bursts in your chest, everything in you calms down yet screams in joy. You can see the anxiety in his eyes, the fear that lingers within him, you want to take it.

“Good, then we’re on the same page,” you whisper happily, nuzzling your nose against his.

Eddie blinks, staring at you, stunned. A shaky breath falls from his lips, his heart has stopped beating for a moment, the world has stopped moving, time has stopped. He had dreamed of this for so long, fantasized about what it would feel like to kiss you, to touch you, to hold you, to love on you but he had never thought of this, simply because he never thought it would happen, that it would be a possibility, you feeling the same. He thought he was doomed, cursed to spend his life loving you from afar and watching you slip through his fingers as the years would pass, he would love you while you would love someone else, while you would build a life with someone else, he would stay your best friend, the obsessed, lovesick best friend who would never move on, the best friend who would choose you over and over again even if he was given the chance to be loved by someone else, he would never love anyone the way he loves you, his heart belongs to you, fully. He is yours, he had always been yours but he never thought that you could be his, no matter how many nights he spent wishing for it. Life had never been kind to him so why would it grant him the highest wish he has? And yet, here you are, looking at him as though he hung the stars and the moon, as though he is the best thing that was ever created, like he is something pure, something beautiful, something worth loving. Have you always looked at him this way?

His eyes start burning as his heart starts beating again, the warmth he felt because of you, turning into burning desire, the desire to claim you like he had always wanted to, to rip his heart from his chest and give it to you.

You whisper his name sweetly, grabbing his hand softly, you move it down your shoulder, your chest and finally placing it above your beating heart.

“All for you, baby.”

His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes flicker between your face and his hand, feeling the racing of your heart that matches the beat of his own. His eyes soften, love taking over the lust that was flashing in them just moments ago. He doesn’t know what to say, the words are stuck in his throat, he is speechless.

You can see it, you can see the shock in his eyes, he stares at you like he wonders if this is real or not. He is breathing heavily, blinking slowly, his lips part, cheeks flushing.

“Eddie–”

Suddenly, he moves forward and grabs your cheeks again, slamming his lips against yours roughly, desperately. He kisses you hotly, strongly, more intensely than he did before, like he is scared that you might slip away if he doesn’t do it this way.

You throw your arms around his neck again, whining needily into the kiss, you part his lips with your tongue and slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further as you grind your hips against him, making him moan against your lips as he holds you stronger, gripping you tightly as though he is scared that you will slip away if he doesn’t.

This kiss is much hungrier than the first, so much deeper and intense, it’s filled with a desperation that was pent up for a long, long time – not weeks or even months, but years. He waited for years for this, you can feel it and your heart races wildly for him. The need to show him just how much you want him too, how you reciprocate his love burns so deeply within you.

You grind your hips against his, feeling just how hard he is for you, the ache between your legs becomes worse, unbearable, and he can tell, he can feel by the way you move your hips, by the sounds of your needy whines.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself, never had he felt such desperation before, such an overwhelming amount of love. He feels stuck between wanting to cry out of pure happiness while making love to you and devouring you vigorously as he shows you just how much he needs, wants you.

His ringed fingers dig into your waist and he begins to push you off of him, guiding you down against the soft cushions without breaking the kiss, he groans against your lips when you spread your legs for him, tugging him on top of you before he can even do it himself. God, you truly want him just as much.

Eddie slides his hand up your body, cupping your cheek once more, he continues kissing you, clashing his tongue against yours, making you mewl as he takes control and grinds against you, a movement that tears out a different kind of sound in you, a whine so needy that it sends shockwaves through his body.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips heavily as he pulls away from the kiss and opens his eyes to reveal just how dark they are now.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing your shirt to ride up in the process, your panties exposed to him now.

He clenches his jaw, trying to control himself but it’s becoming so hard when you are under him like this, looking up at him with those needy eyes as you grab each side of his neck, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, pecking his cheeks and his lips before you trail the kisses down to his jawline.

“I need you so bad, Eds,” you whisper into his skin, moving your hand down his shoulder and his arm, fingernails grazing his goosebump covered skin, you take his hand in yours and bring it back down to your body, placing it on your chest, “please?” You ask in desperation.

He takes a deep breath, making his heart flutter and his body burn when he grabs at your boobs for the very first time.

“Please what?” He murmurs as he presses you down again so he can latch his lips onto your jawline. “Tell me what you need, sweet girl. My fingers, my tongue… or my cock?” He surprises himself when those words fall off his lips when he doesn’t even know how to function at this moment.

You shut your eyes and bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, finding your sweet spot with no struggle, he starts sucking.

“Mmm, y-your fingers,” you whimper as you take his other free hand and guide it down your stomach slowly, “want your fingers, Eddie and then your cock.”

He could cum right here and there, he had dreamed of this too many times.

“Yeah?” He rasps against you, still kissing your neck, “you want me to fuck you with my fingers first?”

You nod wildly, bringing his hand down to your laced panties, you spread your legs further, grinding against him needily. You are so wet, having soaked through your panties already.

“I-I always think about you when I touch myself, I imagine it’s your fingers instead of mine,” you admit with burning cheeks.

Eddie opens his eyes widely, leaning back from your neck after marking it up, he looks at your blushing face.

“R-Really?” He stutters, though with a satisfied look on his face.

Through hooded eyes, you look at your best friend as you nod shyly, humming.

“Guess we got something in common then,” Eddie smirks as he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, he pecks your lips as he slips his fingers down between your legs, finally, cupping your pussy, he presses against your wetness, growling at the feeling.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.”

“I always am for you!” You whine, desperately grinding against the heel of his hand.

His cock twitches at your words, stomach tensing up.

The thought that you might’ve been sitting next to him during movie nights, squirming because of him, waiting to go home so you could touch yourself while thinking of him drives him insane. If he had known… he could’ve done this way sooner.

Eddie pushes your panties aside, dipping his fingers through your folds, he makes both you and himself moan.

“Don’t tease,” you whimper, bucking your hips and pressing yourself against him as he teases your entrance.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie says as he brings his digits up to your clit, “can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

While the shocked look on his face and the disbelief is cute, you can tell what is going on – what went on in his head all this time that he thought that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

You grab his face and smash your lips against his again, kissing him just as roughly as he kissed you the second time, you try to show him, to make him feel what had been there all this time, and he welcomes it so happily, kissing you back right away while his fingers continue to move against your clit, teasingly at first, intensifying the aching inside of you. He licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours as he moans needily, getting lost in the feeling he had craved for so long.

His stomach flutters when you wrap one leg around his waist while rolling your hips, wanting and needing more, he can feel you getting wetter and wetter, moans getting louder, lips moving sloppier. He slips his fingers lower, dipping his middle finger into you slowly, inching it inside of you, pulling the neediest sounds out of you as you clench around him already.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your mouth, “you’re so tight.”

“More!” You demand with a whine, making him chuckle.

“More huh? One finger not enough for you, sweets?” He asks to which you shake your head, furrowing your brows when he adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you as he opens you up.

“No, I-I want more,” you whimper at the feeling of him splitting you open, preparing you for his dick, just the thought of it has you drooling already. “I need–” the words die on your tongue and you quickly forget what you even wanted to say when he starts fucking you in slow but deep movements.

“You need what, hmm?” He taunts you, unable to hide the satisfied smirk on his face as he watches you fall apart beneath him, losing your mind over just his fingers as your jaw falls slack and those sweet sounds begin to fill the room along with the squelching of your pussy. “God… You’re so fucking wet.” Eddie doesn’t even know what to do with himself, his heart is beating like crazy, his cock is aching in his grey sweats that feel way too tight by now, pre cum already leaking through the thick material, something he should feel embarrassed about, but he can’t, not when you look him up and down like you’re some hungry and feral animal in heat.

“All because of you, I’ve been wet all day!” You whine as you grab at his hair when he buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your skin as he covers you in love bites. He growls against you, loving those words a little too much.

His wrist starts moving faster, fingers splitting you open, he fucks them in and out of you.

“Do you fuck your tight little pussy like this too?”

Your brows are scrunched together so tightly, eyes rolling back when he curls them inside of you, hitting just the right spot to make you cry out.

“N-No! Not t-this good!”

You roll your hips against his hand, craving to feel him deeper. Your hands are all over him, his hair, his shoulders, his back, gripping at his shirt as you hold on for dear life while he sucks on your neck and fingerfucks your sopping pussy. The room is filled with such dirty sounds, something that should leave you a blushing mess, something that should leave your cheeks burning in embarrassment but you cannot bother to care, it just feels so good and Eddie fucking loves it.

He pulls back to look at you, to admire your face and those marks he left on you, proudly he looks down at you, a look of love, a look of lust flashing in his eyes. He watches the way you bite your lip, eyes open widely again, you admire him too. And then, you push yourself up on your elbow, pecking his lips before you look down at his hand, wanting to see, wanting to watch his fingers moving in and out of you.

“You like that, huh?” He mumbles as he presses his forehead against yours, “you like being fucked by your best friend like this?”

You whimper again, louder this time as you nod, clenching around his fingers so tightly that he can’t help but growl – how is he going to last? How will he be able to control himself not to cum the second he enters you?

Everything becomes so much hotter, the air around you, the energy in this room, his body against yours, his fingers inside of you, the coil in your stomach, everything starts burning and somehow, it only fuels the need in you.

You grab at the hem of your shirt and push it up to your collarbones, exposing your chest to him, your boobs bounce as you throw your head back against the pillow to see him better and his reaction does not disappoint, if you weren’t so lost in pleasure you would have giggled at the awestruck look on his face, at the wide eyes and the parted lips.

“Baby,” he whispers as he presses his large hand to your now bare waist, slipping it upwards slowly, “you’re unreal, fuck… you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as though in disbelief, staring down at you as though you are something that came straight out of his imagination. He grabs your boob roughly, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he leans down and wraps his lips against the other, wasting no time to suck on it, making you arch your back against him as you throw your hand into his curls, fingers grazing his scalp as you give it a harsh tug, something that he fucking loves.

“I-I… oh my god!” You whimper as tears begin to pull in your eyes when he presses his thumb to your clit, teasing you. “D-Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Eddie! That feels so good!” You nearly scream as he starts moving his fingers faster than before, fucking them in and out of you roughly. You are clenching around him, digging your heel into his ass as you move along to his thrusts.

He looks up at you, loving the sight of you coming undone before him, it’s the prettiest sight to him. He can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath him when he actually fucks you. He licks around your nipple, adding more pleasure to your body.

“Eddie!” You writhe beneath him, blinking the tears away as you look down at him. Your stomach tenses up, burning as the pleasure builds up more and more, almost becoming unbearable, everything inside of you is lit on fire, absolutely every part of you. Your toes curl, your knuckles turn white from how rough you are grabbing at his curls, the sounds that fall from your mouth are almost not recognizable, sounding too pornographic but you have never felt anything like this before, especially not from just being finger fucked.

Eddie pushes himself back up, straightening his back, he slides his hand further up your chest, passing your collarbones and settling around your throat, he tests the waters at first, needing you to be okay with this – he watches the way your eyes darken at this, lips parting as you push yourself up on your elbows, you bring your hand up to his wrist, wrapping your fingers tightly around it, you press it harder against your throat, asking him to choke you.

Eddie laughs darkly, lips curling into a satisfied grin, he shakes his head at you, “of course you’re into that shit. You’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

It takes you a moment to answer his question because the view before you is just a little too distracting. Eddie hovers over you with one hand between your thighs, knuckle deep buried inside of you while his other hand is now wrapped around your throat, rings on, veins popping out of his tattooed forearm, dark curls falling in front of his face as he looks down at you like he wants to devour you but make love to you at the same time.

God, he is beautiful.

Your eyes move down his body, the wet patch on his sweatpants, the bulge making you drool, making you want to drop to your knees for him, worship him, choke on him, suck the soul out of him. You can’t help yourself, moving your hand down his stomach, you grab his dick, wiping the smirk off his face completely as he moans loudly.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart.”

You palm him through his sweats, teasing him the way he teased you, though Eddie is less patient than you are. His hips stutter, a whimper falls off his lips so prettily and you almost tease him for it but he curls his fingers so deeply inside of you, presses his thumb against your clit so strongly that your vision blurs for a second.

“Eddie… Eddie!” You say his name twice, pressing your hand stronger against him, you hook your fingers around the band of his pants.

“D-Don’t tease me or else I’ll cum right this second,” he growls as his cheeks start burning at his words.

“Don’t do that,” you warn as you push his pants down just enough, his dick slaps against his stomach, precum leaking out and rolling down his length, his tip an angry red, thick veins so prominent. Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the sight of him, of his size, his length.

Eddie looks down at you with burning cheeks and begging eyes, he feels the way you clench around his fingers, feels how you soak his digits.

You look at him intensely, watching him fall apart at nothing but the touch of your hand, his eyelashes flutter, a content sigh falling from his lips when you wrap your fingers around his length, “your cock is so pretty, Eds,” you purr, jerking him off slowly, you tease him a little, “I want to choke on it.”

His hips stutter, cock twitching in your hand as he whimpers at your words, “fuck… you can’t just say that to me.”

You pull your hand away from him, holding it up to him, “spit.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, eyes darkening further but he complies, right away, he spits into your hand and watches the way you bring it back down to his dick, wrapping your fingers around him again, you grip him just perfectly, jerking him off in a way that he only ever dreamed off.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, clenching his jaw in concentration, his eyes moving back and forth between your glistening pussy and your hand getting him off. “I-I won’t last long,” he warns you, wanting to get lost in the pleasure, but even more so, he wants to feel you wrapped around him.

With your free hand, you tug at his wrist, needing to feel his lips on yours again and without wasting a second, he slams his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly as he takes full control, parting your lips with his tongue, he moans into your mouth when you clench around his fingers again.

The room is now filled with heavy moans, no longer coming from the TV but from you and him, desperation so clear in both your voices, lips smacking against one another so needily and the alcohol, the weed in your systems only makes it all a tad bit more intense.

As much as Eddie is enjoying the feeling of your hand wrapped around him, he has to stop you or else he will cum before getting what he actually wants.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, lips twitching when you already whine in protest, “baby, I-I fuck… I need you stop or else I’ll cum too fucking soon.”

You pull away begrudgingly, wanting to pout at him but he quickly distracts you by speeding up his fingers inside of you. Letting go of your throat, he brings his now free hand down to your clit, wasting no second to play with your sensitive nub while he curls and slams his fingers in and out of you.

A gasp falls from your lips as he repeatedly brushes your sweet spot, the one that allows you to see stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, one that he instantly kisses away. You want to look at him, you want to watch your best friend but the pleasure becomes too much and you can’t help but shut your eyes tightly. Your stomach burns in a way that has you whimpering and when you try to close your legs to relieve that pleasurable pain, he grabs your knee and stops you.

“I can feel you clenching around my fingers, baby,” he murmurs hotly against your lips, “I know you want to cum, so let go for me,” he whispers, “let go.” One more swipe against your clit, one last thrust, one more kiss to your neck and you come undone for your Eddie, leaking around his fingers as your body trembles beneath his.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He slows down his movements, looking down at your legs to see them shaking, just from this. He lets you ride out your orgasm, giving you a moment to catch your breath. He kisses your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your jawline and your lips. And then, he pulls his fingers out of you, his mouth waters at the sight of your slick, wasting no time to bring his digits up to his lips, he dips them on his tongue, closing his eyes at your taste, he moans loudly.

You open your eyes at the sound, stunned, you stare at him in hunger and lust, watching the way he laps at his fingers that were inside of you just seconds ago. His eyes are closed and he looks content. If you hadn’t been so feral already, you definitely would have been by now.

“You’re even sweeter than I thought,” he mewls after releasing his fingers with a pop, opening his eyes to look down at you with a smirk. “I can’t wait to take my time and eat your pussy.”

You grab him by the chain around his neck, tugging at it harshly, you’re surprised it doesn’t break by the force, you pull him back down against you and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Eddie smiles against your lips, loving the way you moan at your own taste. He feels your hands sliding down his back, tugging at his shirt, demanding him to take it off and he does so instantly, only breaking the kiss for a second so he can tear it off his skin before his lips are back on yours, his pants are next to go as you push them down further, with your help he kicks them off, not caring where they land.

He hooks his finger around your ruined panties, he begins to tug at them and you push your hips up so he can take them off, dragging them down your legs, he throws them to the ground beside his clothes before you both pull away from the kiss to take off the shirt that is still bunched up over your chest.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, looking at you in awe and then, his lips return to you and he places his elbows on either side of your head, pressing his chest against yours as you wrap your legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer until nothing separates you any longer, until he feels your heat against his aching dick and he is so close, so close to getting what he wanted, until he remembers.

“Fuck,” he curses in annoyance, clenching his jaw already as he breaks the kiss, “wait…” But you don’t listen, cupping his cheeks, you make it even harder for him when you keep kissing him, pleading for more.

Frustration bubbles up inside of him and he almost wants to cry.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shakily. “Wait, wait, wait…”

Finally, you pull away, eyes filled with curiosity, “what?”

“I don’t–” he cuts himself off, rolling his eyes as he clenches his fists and closes his eyes for a moment, “I don’t have a condom,” he says through gritted teeth, feeling dejected but then he feels you pull him closer again, cupping the back of his neck, you press your lips back against his.

“It’s okay, I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” you whisper, pressing your heel against his bum, “I waited too long for this, so don’t stop… please, Eddie.”

A growl threatens to spill from his lips, the feeling of frustration is suddenly replaced by something else, not only the need he had felt for so long but something else, something much stronger, something that has him fighting his inner demons.

He opens his eyes, staring at you as though you had gone crazy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, sweets?”

You giggle so cutely at that, in a way that makes him want to pound you into this couch until you are nothing but a screaming mess.

“I have an idea,” you admit smugly, batting your eyelashes at him as your eyes flicker back and forth between his tattoos and his lips, hand already moving down his stomach, fingers reaching for him, you bite your lip as you look into his eyes, he is staring at you so intensely that it makes you blush. You wrap your fingers around his length again, mewling when you guide him through your wet folds, teasing both you and himself.

Eddie grips the pillow beneath your head, cursing at the feeling. You can tell that he is trying to control himself, trying to keep his composure but he is losing it quickly when he feels your heat, your wetness.

With your free hand, you hold onto his bicep, looking up at him with begging eyes, “please, fuck me, Eddie,” you whisper as you tilt your head up to kiss his lips, “show me how bad you want me, don’t hold back… please–”

With a growl, he lets your words die on your tongue, replacing your hand with his own, he guides himself to your entrance, nudging it with the leaking tip of his cock, he presses his forehead and his lips to yours as he thrusts inside of you, torturously, splitting you open around his length.

His heart could burst for feeling you so close, so intimately, his love for you burning stronger than ever, the immortal flame getting bigger and bigger, his body feels on fire, his soul feels at home and now he knows you feel the same, when you hold him close and you kiss him so passionately, tightening your legs around his waist in order to feel him closer, whimpering into him in such a needy way while you keep grabbing at him like he isn’t close enough despite being pressed against you, he knows you feel the same, in every way.

He pushes into you deeper and deeper, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration as he feels you fully, working you open with nothing between you. He feels your warmth, feels your heat around him, your wetness dripping down onto the couch beneath you as fills you up completely. He never felt anything like this before, he never thought he would but god, he is already addicted, he had always been to you but now even worse, he will never be the same again, he will come back to Hawkins a changed man.

“Fucking hell, darling,” he growls against your lips as he stills inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size and himself a moment to concentrate so he doesn’t ruin this by coming too soon, though the thought of filling you up with his seed drives everything in him crazy, he wants it, craves it so bad. “You feel so… so perfect.”

You’re wailing, squirming beneath him, already looking down, wanting to see your bodies connected as sensitive whimpers escape your mouth.

“Y-You’re so big, Eddie,” you say, eyes blurred with tears, words leaving your mouth breathlessly, “hurts so good.”

Your words don’t exactly do him a favor, especially when he opens his eyes and he looks down at you, watching the way your chest rises up and down heavily, the way you look down between your legs in desperation before your big eyes look up at him, glassy. Your lips are so puffy from all the kissing, your forehead glistening with sweat, your cheeks flushed.

Your walls flutter around him, making it harder and harder for him.

Eddie grabs your chin, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, baby, so fucking sweet and good for me but you’re driving me crazy, right now.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper, pouting at him as you hold his bicep harder, “please, fuck me, Eddie. I need it, I need you so bad– ah!” You scream out when he pulls out and slams back inside of you again.

“Shh, I got you, I got you, baby,” he shushes your words, “can’t believe you are so desperate for my cock.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your free hand gets lost in his hair, tugging at his curls as you roll your hips against his, going crazy at the feeling of him inside of you.

“Please, please, please!”

Eddie groans at your pleading, at the obvious desperation, at the need that you feel for him, and only him. His left knee digs into the soft cushions on the couch and he places his right foot against the floor, watching your face intently as he starts rolling his hips, making you gasp out loudly.

“Oh my–” He pants, eyes rolling back as your name falls from his lips.

“You… I…” You stutter, unable to find the right words, to even come up with anything as you lose yourself in this feeling. Your mouth waters and so do your eyes, his chain dangles before your face as he thrusts into you, faster and faster, deeper and rougher. You can’t help but clench around him, he fills you up so perfectly, his tip brushes against that one spot so rightly.

You throw your arms around him as he cups the top of your head, holding eye contact with you as he rolls his hips harder.

“I’m so fucking obsessed with you, do you even know that?” He kisses your lips, smacking them loudly against yours.

“Mmm, I’m obsessed with you too, baby,” you whimper as you meet his thrusts, rolling your hips as well.

“I never thought I’d get to have this, to have you.”

You only hold onto him tighter in response, leaning into his neck, you brush your nose against it and latch your lips onto his neck, pecking along until you find that one spot that makes him whine, you start sucking, marking him up the way he did to you, not knowing just how feral that makes him.

To wear your marks on his skin, to be claimed as yours makes his heart burst but it awakens something in him, because suddenly, he feels the need to pound you into this couch and he does so, he snaps his hips into yours, thrusting roughly.

“Eddie!” You scream out in a choked sob, digging your nails into his skin as you cling to his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans loudly, not bothering to hide just how desperate you make him feel. He cups the back of your neck and pulls you back down, wanting and needing to see your face, he wastes no second before his lips are back on yours and his hips strike roughly into you, cock slamming in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your pussy filling the room, along with your moans and the slapping sounds as he fucks you.

Neither of you want to pull away from the kiss, no matter how sloppy it gets, you don’t want to break the kiss and neither does he, not even when you grow breathless. You cling to each like you never did before, welcoming the pleasure that becomes almost too much. There is soreness in your thighs, burning in your lower back and an overwhelming sensation inside of you, an itch that only he can mend.

And Eddie, he feels as though he is losing his mind, getting to feel this, to feel you, to kiss you and swallow your moans as your dripping walls cling to his cock, twitching around him and begging to be filled. Your arms and legs are so tight around him, you beneath him like he had only seen you in his dreams and in his imagination, you’re shaking, whining and trembling and you are close, he can feel it by the way you are getting tighter and tighter after each of his thrusts.

Reaching down, he hooks his forearm around the back of your knee and he brings it up, pushing it higher until he can thrust into you from a different angle, one that makes you scream out with a high pitched moan and the neediest look he had ever seen on your face.

“Fuck… just like that, baby, scream for me,” he rasps out.

“Y-You’re so good, fuck me… Eds! Your cock feels so nice, please don’t stop, don’t ever stop!” You sputter, not knowing just how those words make him feel.

You don’t know where to look, his pretty face, how he looks as he fucks you like you only ever dreamed of, how pretty his face is when he moans your name so sexily or how his glistening cock pounds in and out of you.

And Eddie struggles just the same, though he settles on watching your beautiful face, wanting to see you fall apart more and more.

And though you don’t want this moment to end, and neither does he, you both drag it out for as long as you can, not caring about anything anymore, not caring about the mess you are making on the couch. You are both sweaty, you are leaking down onto the cushions and Eddie is sure that he ripped a hole into the pillow beneath you earlier from how roughly he held it.

A strangled whine leaves your lips and he knows you can’t hold on any longer, so he brings his hand down your stomach, pressing his fingers against your clit, causing you to jerk and whimper against him.

“You’re close, baby, I can feel it,” he whispers against your neck, not slowing down his movements in the slightest, if anything, he starts fucking you even deeper, making you scream louder now as your fingernails rip through his skin from how hard you’re grabbing him and he welcome that pleasuring burn, “cum around my cock, do it for me, sweetheart. I know you want to be my good girl.”

With another loud whine, you finally let go of him, arching your back and shutting your eyes tightly, you cum around your best friend's cock, for the first but definitely not the last time. You tighten around him so strongly that his hips stutter and his knees almost buckle, heat spreads through his skin and his stomach tightens as his own body screams for release.

He can’t wait any longer either and panic ripples through him when you hold him tighter than before, locking him in as you refuse to let go. It makes his heart flutter and it does make him want to release but–

“I need to pull out, sweetheart,” he says shakily, knowing all too well that he doesn’t actually want it and apparently, you don’t either because you start shaking your head at him, opening your needy eyes.

“No, no, don’t make a mess– cum inside of me, please!”

His hips stutter once more, his dick twitches achingly inside of you, “you can’t just fucking say that–” he whimpers, unable to finish the sentence, one more thrust and he spills inside of you, coating your walls with his seed as your name falls from his lips before he smashes his lips to yours for the hundredth time tonight, swallowing your cry.

Tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, your leg starts slipping from his waist and his thrusts slow down, though his grip doesn’t loosen on you, he continues to hold you close, the way you do as well as you grab his shoulder and his bicep, squeezing him tightly while your tongue clashes against his.

Your walls spasm and contract around his length, sending shockwaves and an unbearable amount of pleasure through his sensitive body.

Slowly, he removes his hand from between your legs, sliding it up your hot body until he is cupping your cheek again, he makes you both whimper when he pulls his softening cock out of you.

Your name rolls off his tongue when you both pull away from the kiss, he says it like it’s a blessing, like a prayer. Your eyes make contact again and you stare at each other for a moment, lovingly, adoringly, and then, you both smile and giggle and press your lips back against each other, pecking one another again and again.

“My Eddie,” you whisper as you admire the marks you left on him.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he realizes that this isn’t just a moment, that this isn’t just for now, for tonight, that you waited for it just like he has. He looks down at you, brushing away and tucking your hair behind your ear as he caresses your cheek, his heart soaring in his chest. “I can’t believe this happened.”

You giggle at him, “I’m glad it happened.”

“Yeah?” He grins lazily, eyes dropping to your chest as he leans down and presses his lips to your jaw, “I’m fucking on top of the world right now.”

You brush your fingers through his curls, giggling yet again.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork, right?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, one that questions more than just this. He wants to be yours, he wants it so badly.

You nod happily, eyes flashing with happiness.

“Mhmm, you’re mine, all mine.”

“Fuck,” he whispers as he feels his sensitive dick twitching at your words, heart bursting inside of him, “I’m yours, all yours.”

You tug him closer and closer, breathing against his lips as you eye him hungrily again, you feel him leaking out of you and it only makes your thighs burn again, “and I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps as his fingers dip inside of you, he groans at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you, he pushes it back into you with a moan, “you’re mine, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, Eddie,” you mewl, pushing your hips up and chasing for more already.

“You want more?”

You nod, “yes… more, please!”

Not needing to be told twice, he slowly pushes his fingers and his cum back into you, making you both moan at that.

“You know what, I'm glad we did this today,” Eddie mumbles against your lips.

“Yeah?” You moan, arching your back in pleasure when he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Mhmm, that means I get to fuck you over and over and over for the whole weekend,” he smirks before he slams his lips against yours again, kissing you passionately and sensually while his fingers move and in out of you, creating a mess with his cum leaking out of you and your own wetness sticking to your thighs and his.

You both fill the room with filthy noises, needy and desperately you touch each other, grabbing and pulling at each others hair as the night goes on, continuing to mark each other up, to taste one another, to fuck like animals in heat, the movie long forgotten as his tongue laps at your pussy when he is kneeled on the ground with your legs dangling of his shoulders and your fingers pull at his hair roughly.

This night never ends, the pleasure continuing until the early morning hours, until you can no longer take it, until you both get too sensitive, until you’re both nothing but a panting, sweaty mess and even then, you still kiss and cling to one another.

The night was filled with desperation, with pent up emotions, with filthiness yet with love and adoration, and this night has changed you both forever, for good.

“So… What you’re telling me is–…” Steve begins, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched as he stands before you and Eddie with a stern look on his face. You are both on his couch, looking up at him like scolded children. “You need to buy me a new… bed?”

You are blushing furiously, embarrassment written all over your face. You glare at Robin who is standing in the corner, sipping on her soda with an amused look on her face.

“Uh… yeah.”

You know how badly Eddie wants to laugh, he is smug, you can see it on his face but he stays quiet, for a second at least.

“And a new arm chair?” Steve mumbles, looking between you both.

“Yeah.” Eddie snorts to which you elbow him, shushing him.

“Don’t forget the flower vase,” Robin snickers.

Steve throws his hands up, “and a fucking flower vase, thanks Robin!”

You put your finger up and straighten your back, “actually, the flower vase fell by itself–”

“Because you were fucking on top of the table!” Steve retorts to which your boyfriend chuckles in satisfaction, not being embarrassed by anything in the slightest.

You turn to look at him, he only smirks at you and shrugs, holding your thigh tighter than before.

“I’d buy a new couch too–”

“Eddie!”

Robin moves closer and eyes you both, eyeing the matching marks on your necks.

“I hope you used protection, at least.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looking at you both expectedly, your flustered face gives you away completely as you sink deeper into the couch, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in Eddie’s neck.

“Great, now I might be a fucking uncle.”

“Godfather,” Eddie corrects him, making you giggle.

“Go to hell,” Steve shakes his head, though he can’t hide the look on his face and how delighted he is to hear that he would be considered a godfather if it were to happen. And despite the clear distaste on his face after hearing what you did at his cabin, he can’t help but feel happy for you both.

Robin looks down with a smile on her face when Eddie wraps his arm around you and kisses your cheek softly and Steve’s eyes soften as well.

He sighs and rolls his eyes as he finally takes a seat, he reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“I’m happy my plan worked but you both will go back, replace the furniture and clean everything up before I lose my shit and I kill you before my parents kill me.”

You nod at him with wide eyes, while Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “clean up? Oh, we did clean up and besides, we didn’t waste a single drop.”

“Eddie,” you whine as you bury your face in your hands while Robin groans in disgust.

Steve only sighs but his lips twitch slightly, curling into a smirk as he nods at Eddie.

“At least I know your children aren’t running around my cabin.”

You give Eddie a warning glance but he is already smirking at you, gripping your thigh harder, slipping under your skirt.

“They’re somewhere else.”

“Oh, gross!” Robin coughs and turns away with a frown on her face.

“Eddie!” You whine and slap his chest to which he pulls you closer and kisses your cheek, chuckling in amusement.

Steve shakes his head, sighing.

“I’m never inviting you both to that summer house ever again.”

#my writing ♡#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things angst #stranger things smut

5K notes · View notes