#this feels like it barely fits for the prompt but it popped into my head and i had to write it down!

[semperama]

for the kissing meme: buck/eddie, 24.

-as a reward

Buck makes it all the way back to his loft before he breaks and texts Eddie.

Don’t do it, man, he says. Don’t let them get to you.

Sure, Eddie’s been getting nothing but shit from the entire 118 since he came back from Texas sporting a mustache. And sure, Buck has joined in on the teasing—he had to, even if he felt like he needed to have his fingers crossed behind his back the entire time. But after Eddie laughed off today’s latest round of 70s porn star jokes and promised he’d come in for his next shift clean-shaven, Buck felt—something a lot like panic. Churning stomach, shaking hands. When Eddie said goodbye in the locker room, thumping Buck on the shoulder, Buck almost reached out to stop him, reached to run his thumb across his upper lip, because—no. No.

I knew you didn’t hate it, Eddie texts back a couple minutes later. And Buck groans, even though he’s not shocked something gave him away—the flush in his cheeks or the way he laughed a little too loud at everyone else’s Freddie Mercury jokes or the way he couldn’t stop looking.

Come on. You know we all have to get on your case. But you should keep it.

The time has come, Buck. You’ll live.

And sure, Buck gets it. It was a—a crisis mustache, or whatever. A temporary change, and now that Christopher’s back and everyone’s together and everything is good, why does he still need it? But Buck just—he can’t explain it, can’t examine it, but it feels like he’ll be losing something if Eddie loses the facial hair. It feels like someone scooping up the last bite of a dessert he never got to try, or learning he missed the window on a museum exhibit he really wanted to see.

Please? Buck types it out and sends it before he can think too hard about it. Please. For me?

Eddie doesn’t respond to that. Ten minutes go by, then twenty. He probably got in the shower, probably is shaving it off right now, all that dark hair swirling down the drain. Tomorrow Buck will go over for dinner and video games with Chris, and Eddie will look…normal. Everything will be back to normal. Why does that feel like something Buck can’t handle, doesn’t want?

He’s halfway through prepping dinner, forcing himself to go through the motions so he’ll stop feeling shaky and fragile inside, when someone knocks at his door. He wipes his hands off, frowning, and goes to the door, and—it’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie, with a mustache.

“’For me?’” Eddie says.

Buck should feel ashamed, hearing his frankly unhinged message parroted back to him, but he’s too busy sighing with relief and—reaching, reaching out like he wanted to before, his palm cradling Eddie’s jaw and his thumb swiping across the hair at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. It’s better than he thought it would be, a little spiky at the ends but…soft too. Soft enough he wants to rub his lips against it.

So he does.

“Buck,” Eddie says, amused, his lips brushing Buck’s, the mustache tickling his skin. It’s not quite a kiss, not yet, but—it could be. It will be, soon.

“Shut up,” Buck says, heat flooding his face. Then, “Thank you.” And then he tips his head down a little and presses his mouth to Eddie’s in earnest, tonguing his top lip and groaning at the prickle, the newness, just what he wanted, what he asked for.

Eddie wraps an arm around his waist, iron band of muscle, and walks him backward into the loft, lets the door fall shut. “For you,” he murmurs against Buck’s mouth.

Buck moves his head left to right, lets the hair rasp across his cheek, his mouth, his chin. He licks again, kisses again, wants to burrow in and stay. “Thank you,” he says again. It’s silly. Stupid. But Eddie did this for him, and now Buck wants to give him everything, anything.

“Buck,” Eddie says, all fondness and gravel. “Just kiss me.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

[takamimami]

hii! 🫀 anon here. i saw ur event post and just knew i HAD to request!!

i wanted to request a law x fem reader nsfw piece with 1. Our bodies fit so well together and 2. Everything alright?” “I just missed you.”(from the fluff prompt) if two isn’t okay then you can scratch the 2nd one! maybee some size kink and tummy bulge too 😽 also i love that you use angel sm in your writing law saying absolutely filthy shit w the angel pet name would be the end of me

congrats on the 100 followers <3!!! you deserve every single one and more!

Ohhhhh 🫀 anon, my precious, thank you so so much for your kind words and continued support <3 I'm not going to lie, I squealed a lil bit when I read this DELICIOUS request. I hope I did your idea and our moody boy justice with this, and I hope you enjoy the read :3

Law x F!Reader - NSFW - “Our bodies fit so well together" & "Everything alright?” “I just missed you.” STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; overstimulation, law makes you squirt :3, mirror sex, pussy-drunk law, fluff and smut, lots of praising, law edging himself bc he missed you, law calls you 'angel' --- word count 1.2k

The drag of Law’s thick cock along your walls has you panting as he thrusts into you slowly, each deep thrust sending a shock wave of pleasure through your entire being. The two of you had been at this for hours, both your bodies slick with sweat as a hint of concern creeps into the back of your mind at the fact that your boyfriend hadn’t finished yet. He’d just returned from a stint with the Straw Hats in Punk Hazard, and instead of enjoying the warm welcome the crew had prepared for him, he whisked you away to his quarters almost immediately. The two of you had barely gotten the door shut before his fingers were inside you - not that you minded - but it was a slight cause for concern you knew you’d have to address when this was over.

You knew Law to enjoy teasing and edging both of you occasionally when you went at it, but you’d lost count of how many orgasms he’d pulled from you tonight a while ago. You knew he was close - you could practically feel his cock pulse each time he bottomed out inside of you, his head kissing your cervix as he held you to his chest and groaned into your neck. But just when his thrusts increased pace and you were sure he would tumble over into euphoric bliss with you, he pulled out of you completely.

“Everything okay?” You ask, looking up at him as he stands from the bed, his hulking frame hovering over you as he pulls you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He leans over, his chest muscles rippling as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you into his arms, carrying you in the direction of the bathroom and setting you down on the counter before hitching your legs around his hips. His grey eyes are glossy as he looks down at you, pupils blown out with lust as his raspy voice cuts through the silence.

“‘M fine, angel, I just missed you,” he croons roughly as he slides his hips forward into yours, his eyes dropping down to where you two are once again connected as he sheaths himself inside your velvet walls once more. “Missed you so fucking much.”

Your back arches and your lips fall open with a moan as he pumps himself into you roughly, his short and shallow thrusts prodding at the gummy walls of your g-spot. Law smiles wickedly at the affirmation, eyes trained on the slight bulge of him in your abdomen as he works himself deeper and harder inside of you. He pulls you to the very edge of the counter, the veins in his arms popping as he supports the weight of you with one arm slung under your hips, the other pressing down on your lower abdomen where his eyes had been trained moments ago. 

You knew this spelled out the end for you, your body immediately going slack against the cool tile as you felt the familiar sensation rise in your gut. Your mind was spinning as you prepared for an earth-shattering orgasm, one Law somehow knew how to pull from you like it was his god-given purpose in life. 

“Relax angel,” he coos, chest now hovering over you, his larger frame encompassing nearly all of you as he looks down at you, his face quite possibly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in this pussy-drunk haze he was in. You comply, and the cord inside you tightens as you screw your eyes shut, each one of Law’s thrusts pressing you harder and harder into the counter.

“That’s it, angel, make a mess for me.”

His words snap the cord, your orgasm crashing over you harshly as your hips begin to buck into his thrusts. Law digs his fingers into your hips as he holds you steady, leaning into the counter for support as he thrusts into your soaking cunt. Your release begins to spray out of you, splashing onto his torso and the floor as he pulls out, the pressure being too much so he instead replaces his cock with his fingers, curling them up into your g-spot and pulling even more waves of pleasure from you.

Your eyes remain shut, stars twinkling behind your eyelids as waves of pleasure ripple through your body. You’re not sure if you’re even making any sounds, but your mouth goes dry as your orgasm starts to subside, Law’s fingers working tirelessly against you until he’s sure he has pulled every last drop from you. 

He can’t resist the temptation to drop to his knees and swipe his tongue over your swollen lips, a strangled cry ripping out of your chest from the over-stimulation as your hand pushes his face away.

“Wait, wait,” you pant breathlessly, needing a moment to recover from the intensity of your last orgasm. Law chuckles below you, standing up to hover over you again, his body coated in your release as he presses his entire self into you, pulling you into a sitting position.

Your body is weak, hopelessly so, and you can’t help the groan that leaves your body when your eyes drop down to Law’s cock, the tip blushed and swollen.

“How have you not come, yet?” you ask with a laugh, tensing as he chuckles back and slides you off the edge of the counter. Your legs are shaky as they try to keep you upright, and you’re grateful for Law’s strong arm around your waist otherwise you may have ended up on the floor.

“I just can’t get enough of you,” he croons, your eyes meeting his in the mirror before trailing along the tattooed arms that held you flush against him. You hiss as he slides back into your sensitive cunt, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck to pepper gentle kisses there. “You got one more for me, angel?”

You moan lightly and lean your head back against his shoulder, feeling your walls clamp around him as he begins moving inside you again. 

“Look how perfectly our bodies fit together,” he rasps, and you open your eyes to meet his fiery gaze in the mirror. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hips jacking into yours as your back arches with each movement. “It’s like you were made for me.”

You hum as his pace increases, a hand sliding down to rub gentle circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. Your moan comes out as more of a whimper from the contact, and your hands fly out to brace yourself on the counter in front of you as Law presses himself deeper inside of you. 

“You’re gripping me so tight, angel,” Law groans, feeling the familiar flutter starting in your core as he speaks, “So, fucking, tight… So perfect.”

His babbling is met with a string of moans from you, your brain going fuzzy from the praise. “Law, come for me,” you beckon, teetering on the edge of release as you clamp down on his length, trying to bring him over the edge with you.

You’re successful, and Law buries his face into your neck again as he feels his own cord snap, thrusts growing sloppy as his cock pulses inside you. You’re so absorbed in watching Law shatter behind you that you barely comprehend the way your body shakes in his arms, milking every last drop from him while he strings together curses into your neck.

His hips finally still, and he holds you tightly against him - his breathing shaky as he tries to ground himself again. He hisses when he finally pulls himself from your grip, an instant rush of both your releases trails down your leg.

He loosens his grip around your body and moves his hands to your hips, gingerly leading you over to the tub and running the two of you a warm bath. He sprinkles some essential oils into the tub before scooping you up into his arms and settling into the water. You straddle him as he leans back against the tiles, your head resting on his chest as the water soothes your now sore muscles.

“I love you, angel.”

The words pull your gaze up to him, lifting your head so that you’re at eye level with him, before connecting your lips to his in a gentle kiss. When you pull away you can see a hint of something lingering in his eyes, and you know there is something under the surface that he was still unpacking. You don’t press it, instead offering him a gentle smile to tell him that you’ll be here when he’s ready to talk.

“I love you, Law, and I missed you, too.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 1

SUMMARY: Jake is stuck at base for a mind-numbing training session, while you’re home enjoying a much-needed day off. Bored and missing him, you decide to have a little fun by slipping into his favorite lacy lingerie and sending him a few teasing photos. What starts as playful fun turns into a tantalizing game of anticipation as Jake struggles to focus on anything other than getting home to you—and making you pay for being such a tease.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm a little late getting this one posted. Work and life got the best of me today! But here is Day 1 of the Kinktober prompts!

PROMPT: "Damn, you're such a tease."

KINK: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WARNINGS: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WORD COUNT: 562

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

It was one of those rare days off, the kind where you could lounge around the apartment, free from any obligations or stress. You had the place to yourself, and although it was peaceful, something was missing: Jake.

Jake was stuck at base, caught up in yet another training session. You could practically hear his groans when he left this morning, muttering about how he could fly his aircraft blindfolded and still ace this review. You’d been texting back and forth with him all morning, and from the sound of it, he was bored out of his mind.

You’d been missing him too—his presence, his touch, the playful banter you shared. And then an idea popped into your head. You glanced toward your dresser, your lips curling into a mischievous smile as you remembered Jake's favorite lacy lingerie set tucked inside.

A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right?

Grinning, you slipped into the soft, delicate fabric, adjusting the lace until it fit perfectly against your skin. The deep, sultry red contrasted beautifully with your complexion, and you couldn’t help but admire the way it hugged your curves. You knew this set drove Jake crazy—he’d told you so more than once.

You grabbed your phone and posed in front of the mirror, snapping a few playful shots. One with you standing straight, one where you tugged the hem of the lace teasingly, and one of you sitting on the edge of the bed, just enough skin showing to keep it innocent… yet tempting.

With a smirk, you sent the first picture to Jake, captioning it with a simple, “Miss you.”

You barely had to wait a minute before your phone buzzed. Jake’s name lit up the screen, and you opened the message to see his reply: “Damn, you’re such a tease.”

You giggled, feeling a rush of satisfaction. It was good to know you could get to him, even when he was stuck in a stuffy classroom. But you weren’t done yet.

Biting your lip, you snapped another picture—this time lying on the bed, your body half-covered by the sheets. The lacy set peeked out just enough to leave plenty to the imagination, but still give Jake something to think about.

“Thought you could use a distraction. How’s that training going?” you typed, hitting send.

His response came back almost instantly: “Training? What training? All I’m thinking about now is how fast I can get home.”

You could practically picture him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on anything but the images you’d sent.

Feeling playful, you teased him again. “Aw, don’t you still have a few hours left? Guess you’ll just have to be patient.”

Another message buzzed in: “You’re killing me, sweetheart. Wait ‘til I get home. We’ll see who’s teasing who.”

You felt a warm shiver run down your spine at his words, knowing full well what was waiting for you once Jake finally got back. But for now, you enjoyed the thought of him struggling through his training session, knowing you had him wrapped around your finger.

Leaning back against the pillows, you smiled to yourself, imagining how this little game would play out once Jake was home. His frustration would build throughout the day, and by the time he walked through that door, he’d be ready to turn the tables on you in the best possible way.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 25 || The Change of Events

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, heavy sexual tension, & semi-smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——SUKUNA'S LIPS WERE ON YOURS IN the next second and the kiss you share with him while carefully stroking the outline of his hard cock starts slow yet quickly grows hot and heavy.

There's a deep, low, guttural, and almost feral groan that he allows himself to pour into your mouth as his tongue enters it. The movement of your hand stutters for a second as Sukuna moves to grab ahold of your ass. A strong grip was felt against your rear, prompting an immediate moan from you.

If the bit of alcohol you drank didn't have you stupidly horny then Sukuna most definitely did. Your worries about this being like what happened with Naoya all over again are quick to dissipate. You and Naoya didn't even kiss, not that one is always needed for sex to feel good but, still.

Sukuna's way of kissing you sent chills down your spine, his large hand simply toying with the fat of your ass while you run your fingers over his leaking member. Your body was hot, his tongue was eager, aggressive even.

Multiple times as he makes out with you, you feel him smile. Sometimes it's right after you let out a moan or a hum and other times it seems to be when you touch his dick right. Either way, his constant smiling let you know you were doing something right.

His hand releases your ass for only a moment before he gives it a harsh smack, making you squirm in surprise against him. You tried to pull away from his mouth for air but Sukuna's free hand moved to grab ahold of your neck, tugging you right back into him.

It was so hot too, the way his large rough fingers pressed into your neck, squeezing slightly as he forced you back into a kiss. Sukuna kissed you so aggressively that it made you feel small and helpless in his hold.

At some point, you shifted your hand and you were attempting to reach into his boxers, only to be stopped by him giving your lower lip a bite and tug that makes you whimper.

When Sukuna releases your lip he smiles, "You want my cock down your throat, don't you?"

Your lips were wet from his tongue and soft pants left you. With low lustful eyes and an aroused nod of your head, "Mhmm." You hum eagerly.

His hand leaves your neck and he moves his index and middle finger to your lips, weighing your bottom lip down and seeming to take a look inside your mouth for a second. Sukuna chuckles, the sound only adding to your arousal, "Aww, but your mouth is so small..."

You push your head forward and take his fingers into your mouth without him even telling you to, your tongue quickly sucking over his thick digits before you suck them and pull off with a little pop.

"It's not," You argue back with a soft voice.

You feel his cock twitch against your hand, "Oh but it is... I'll never fit in there," Sukuna comments.

Your hand moves to the band of his boxers again and you sneakily slip one finger beneath, just barely feeling the base of his hard dick against you. "Make it fit," You order.

The man starts chuckling again. He's far more entertained by you than he expected himself to be, "Make it fit?" He shrugs, "Alright, don't be mad when your poor little throat is in pain tomorrow."

You could care less about that right now. You don't remember the last time you were this eager to suck someone off. Hell, you wanted Sukuna to throat fuck you more than anything-- holding your head in place, shoving his massive cock into your mouth, groaning and grunting with each thrust while you choked and gagged on it.

You were so horny.

The fingers that'd just been in your mouth move to his own and he licks the taste of your tongue off as if his own wasn't just in your mouth.

With one last squeeze to your ass, "On your knees." Sukuna orders.

You're not sure you've ever scrambled to the ground fast enough in your life. It was pathetic but it's not the first time you've acted in such a way. As you slid down, your hand left his pants and you kept your eye up on his dark maroon ones.

Sukuna shifts where he stands a little, parting the distance between his legs ever so slightly. His big arms go back a little as he rests his hands on the counter again, seeming to have no intentions of helping you do anything.

He nods his chin to you, "Kiss it."

You blink before looking down at the bulge in front of you, your thighs squeezing together like crazy. Bringing your hands up to the band of both his sweats and his boxers, you were about to pull them down and kiss his cock bare, assuming that's what he meant.

"Nono, not like that," Sukuna instructs. The slight lustful smile on his face never leaves, "No hands."

You swallow hard. You're so needy to get some kind of action that being told not to use your hands to speed up the process brings a pout to your face-- one he takes in the sight of happily.

With the slightest roll of your eyes, you move your hands behind your back.

Sukuna raises a brow, "Keep acting like a brat and you won't get anything."

You sigh and then push up on your knees a bit. Sukuna watches the desperate way you sink your teeth into the fabric of his sweatpants, carefully maneuvering your head so that you can pull the item down. It soon pools around his ankles and you quickly move to follow suit with his boxers.

"Stop," Sukuna orders. You freeze immediately on command, your mouth having been nearing his boxers, "I said kiss it first."

You frown. You want to kiss his cock without the stupid fabric in the way and not being able to do so is frustrating you. Even so, you don't argue with his words, pushing your lips to the straining of his dick against that last layer of clothing.

"Mhmmm, there you go," Sukuna coos, his deep hum and low voice making you a drenched mess below. "Now, tell me how bad you want it."

The faintest whine leaves you before you decide to press your tongue against his clothed cock, licking a single stripe before answering, "I want it so bad," You voice out timidly.

Embarrassment is creeping up on you but you're trying to shove it down.

Sukuna frowns to mock the pout on your face, "Yeah? Where do you want it, hmm?"

You shift over to where the tip of his cock is, noticing how much precum has left the fabric wet, and decide to suck on it through his boxers. The faintest grunt is heard leaving his throat and Sukuna pushes his hips forward, pressing himself against your tongue.

"Answer me," He says sternly.

You pull away only a little bit and gaze up at him with wide pleading eyes, "Down my throat. Sukuna, please." You beg, the sound driving him over the edge.

A heavy breath leaves his lips and just as he opens his mouth to instruct you further, there's a loud knock coming from the bedroom door. Sukuna instantly throws his head back and lets out a frustrated groan.

"Fuck off, I'm busy," Sukuna shouts angrily. Anyone who dares to interrupt him at a time like this surely has a wish for death.

He looks back down at you and gestures his head for you to continue. You lean forward and your teeth nearly latch onto the waistband, so close to revealing the very thing you're so eager to feel in your mouth.

Only to be stopped by another banging against the room door, this time followed by some guy calling Sukuna's name. The man above you shifts a hand to the top of your head and pushes you back away from him slightly. You sit back on your heels as his hand then leaves your head and moves to tug his sweats back up.

Sukuna looks so pissed off that that vein in his forehead begins to pop out again. It was almost... cute how quickly he got upset, at least when it's not directed at you. He seemed like he was about to throw a temper tantrum.

The man moves to step past you on the floor, uttering a quick hold on as he tries to leave the bathroom. His phone buzzes on the counter and his head snaps back before he snatches the device up. Sukuna's whole face sinks and he looks like he's about to kill someone.

"These fucking idiots..." He sighs, unlocking his phone and responding to something. You sit idly on the floor, staring up at him until he looks down at you again.

With a sigh Sukuna shakes his head, "Someone threatened to call the cops and shut this party down so, I gotta' go." He explains.

With an innocent blink of your eyes, "Do you... want me to stay here until you come back?" You ask, tilting your head.

Fuck, you look so damn cute like that. He wants to forget the party and reward you for offering such a thing by ramming his cock into your mouth just like he knows you want him to.

Sukuna grits his teeth and shakes his head, "Tempting. But no, these situations take far too long. Don't wait on me." He tells you.

You frown and he looks away from you, each expression you hold only making it difficult for him to hold his composure. A small, "Okay," Leaves your lips and the softness of your voice makes his cock twitch.

You're so obedient to him and it turns him on to another degree. Even so, the threat of cops being called is worrisome for Sukuna because there are all kinds of activities with illegal drugs taking place within the house he owns.

He starts turning away but then pauses just barely out of the bathroom, "Next week." Sukuna says, "Same place, same time," He turns his head back to look at you, "No party, just you and me. Got it?"

You nod your head eagerly and he raises a brow. The man then turns to you one final time and crouches down to you, holding his hand out.

"Your phone," He hums, "I'll give you my number."

You hastily scramble for the item and soon hand it to him unlocked and on a blank contact page. Sukuna types his info in and hands it back.

He then moves a hand to your chin and forces your head up a little as he looks at you. Sukuna smiles wickedly at the lust in your eyes and the arousal written all over your face.

"Next week." He repeats, "Understand?"

"Yes," You murmur, nodding slightly.

With another dark chuckle, his hand goes to the top of your head and he... pats you? Then, he stands, "What an obedient girl you are," Sukuna points out before scoffing and shaking his head.

His hand then leaves you and he exits the bathroom. You listen to the way he furthers away from the bathroom, soon hearing the way his door flies open and he immediately starts yelling at someone. You can even hear how the chatting that occurred in the hallway gets quiet at the sound of Sukuna yelling.

The bedroom door slams and the sounds die out again.

You're left on that bathroom floor so fucking horny that you think you're getting dizzy from it. You had half a mind to stay where you were, shut and lock the bathroom door, and satisfy yourself but-- you'll never be able to please yourself in the way all these men you've interacted with do.

With that thought, you remember that Gojo is somewhere inside this house.

He'd fuck you with no questions. Hell, even thinking about it makes your cunt throb. Even if he doesn't use his cock, you think about those hands of his. They're so big, his fingers long enough to reach spots inside you with only one thrust.

"Fuck," You breathe out due to your own imagination before shuffling to your feet.

Gojo could get you off by just fingering you and you'd so gratefully accept that. A little groan leaves your lips as you get your phone out and go to Gojo's contact.

You stare at it and the way you left him on seen some time ago. Your fingers move to text him but you stop, fingertips hovering over the screen. With a sigh, you shut your eyes.

You can't.

You can't sleep with Gojo again. He's grown far too attached to you as it is, any more sex with him and he might lose his mind and try proposing to you next. That last thought makes you chuckle, knowing that that's probably something his crazy ass would do.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you turn your phone off. There's a bunch of guys at this party, maybe you'll grab someone on your way out-

No. That's just being a needy little slut. You hate the way this list has altered your way of thinking. A few months ago, you would've just rubbed it out and called it a day.

Even so, you currently can't find satisfaction in that so to gather your thoughts, you're going to try sobering up.

To do so, you make your way out the bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs, through the party-- hearing commotion going on somewhere deeper inside, and quickly out the front doors.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Outside, there's a bunch of partygoers scattered all over the place. The music and commotion from inside die down a little and you feel refreshed as the chilly air slaps you in the face as soon as you start walking outside.

You walk down the main path. When you reach the sidewalk, you start walking a little, seeing other big houses further down the street. You had no set destination and simply planned on taking a little walk to cool off.

As you do so, you see cars parked everywhere, some of them even moving a little and making it very obvious what some people were up to.

Do you wish you were receiving that kind of pleasure right now? Hell yeah.

Car sex doesn't sound that bad right now too. You've done it maybe four times; twice with Geto and twice with Choso.

The thought of Choso makes your stomach churn. You love the way he pleases you. One of the times you fucked in his car, he had your hand holding onto the grab-handle on the ceiling of his car in the backseat for dear life. You remember being completely fucked out as he thrusted his cock up into you.

A sigh leaves your lips, you miss his dick. You're horny so most of your thoughts are surrounding sex and the men you've been with, the memory of Choso's constant praises and whines as you rode him replaying in your mind...

'You fuck me so well, princess.'

'Keep going, m'about t-to cum.'

'Fuuu-uuck, c'mon, please baby, cum one more time f'me.'

'That's ittt, make a fuckin' mess of me.'

'Look at me while you do it.'

'Good fuckin' girl.'

Oh, you're so wet just thinking about it that it's not even funny anymore.

With that, you were just seconds away from calling Gojo, thinking that he'd have to do for now and fucking him would be better than nothing you suppose...

What stopped you from doing so was the sighting of a familiar man standing at his car not too far from you. The streetlights illuminated his tall muscular body and you could recognize the man from a mile away based on his physique alone.

It was Toji Fushiguro.

The sight of him brings flashes of your time with him to the forefront of your brain, remembering the way he had you bent over his desk and how you came as soon as he thrusted into you.

You shake the memory away and carefully approach him, "Mr. Fushiguro?"

He was tapping away at his phone before he heard your soft voice come from his left, quickly turning to look at you as you approached him.

Toji blinks multiple times at the sight of you in such a tight and revealing dark red dress, quickly noticing how one of the straps is hanging off your shoulder and recognizing the look in your eyes.

His eyebrows raise slightly, "What're you doin' out here all alone, doll?"

You fold your arms under your chest as a slight breeze brushes against your skin, "I was trying to sober up," You sigh, making your way to his side.

He's facing his car door and you got a lot closer to him than he expected you to but, he doesn't mind.

Toji looks down at you, "How much did you drink?"

"Not a lot," You murmur.

He hums and nods his head, then furrows his brows for a moment, "I see, wait-," He blinks, "How old are you again?"

You giggle, "I'm twenty-two Mr. Fushiguro, how could you forget..."

Toji pouts slightly, "I didn't forget..."

"Yeah you diddd..." You hum, moving to poke his arm, "That's not nice y'know."

"Do you know how many drunk college students I've dealt with tonight?" Toji sighed heavily, "I've lost track of how many were drinking underage, sorry that I forgot how old you were for a moment." He utters sassily.

You chuckle and your fingers move to play with the fabric of his shirt, occasionally feeling his biceps beneath it, "Bet you didn't forget while you fucked me..."

He freezes, his skin tensing at the recollection. "You're right, I didn't forget while I fucked you."

Nobody was around so the two of you were able to speak freely, still keeping your voices low just in case.

Toji moves to shut his phone off and slips it into his pocket, putting his full attention on you.

"So," You hum, still playing with the sleeve of his shirt, "What're you doing out here alone, Mr. Fushiguro?"

He chuckles deeply, "Wouldn't you like to know..."

"Yeah, that's why I asked." You reply bluntly, your eyes still fixated on what you're toying with.

His gaze is down on you the whole time, "What'd I tell you about that attitude of yours?"

"I don't remember," You murmur, carefully shifting your gaze up to him, "Remind me?"

Your tone was so sultry and your look so clearly told him you were horny. He recognized it from the day he'd slept with you.

Toji suddenly turns so that his body is facing you and not his car, your hand leaving his arm and simply moving to his chest. You continue to play with his shirt and he leans over against his car a bit while peering down at you.

"Remind you?" Toji repeats, scoffing afterward, "You don't want that, doll."

You bite down on your lower lip and lean forward a little, "Yeah I do..."

He swallows deeply, "You don't."

"Yes I do Mr. Fushiguro," You argue back, purposefully pouting a bit. "Put me in my place, sir." You uttered sensually.

Those words went straight to the older man's cock, making him clear his throat in reaction. "You're drunk," Toji says in response.

"No," You reply, sliding your hand down to his waist and then sneakily wrapping your arms around him. You hug his large body and press your chest against him, your head angled upward, "Not drunk, just horny."

Toji looks down at you, seeing the way your breasts are squished together against him, the way your eyes are wide and needy, and feeling how you hug him so desperately-- as if to silently convince him to fuck you.

"Mr. Fushiguro," You whisper, his eyes dropping to your soft lips as you do so.

"What?" He hums.

You bat your eyes at him and tilt your head, "Can I give you head?" You offer shamelessly.

He chokes, having expected you to say something along those lines but still being surprised nonetheless. "Wh-What?" Toji coughs.

You giggle and lean back a little bit, "Can I..." Your arm moves from around him and to his abdomen, " Give you..." You carefully trail your hand down, "Head?"

Toji's eyes bat in surprise. Are you the same woman who was so shy and needy for him that day in his classroom? Well, to some extent, yes, you're still needy and shy in front of him but the bluntness is what he didn't expect.

The scared corner of his lips twitch as he scoffs, "You're being very naughty right now..."

"I know but," Your hand goes even further and Toji doesn't stop you as you palm his dick through his clothing, "You're already hard so... you might as well let me help you."

He inhales in a deep breath, "And you wanna help me by sucking me off?"

"Toji, it's not that complicated y'know." You utter, the use of his first name causing him to throb against your hand, "Either you let me suck your dick or you don't."

His eyes narrow at you, "Did you just call me by my first name?"

"I did."

"Did I ever give you permission to do so?" Toji asks, raising a brow.

You shrug and run your hands over the bulge in his pants, "No... Sorry, sir."

He scoffs again, "You're really fucking horny right now, aren't you?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod, "Mhm."

With a roll of his eyes, "This is no way to talk to a professor, y'know."

"I know," You hum, "So how about we stop talking, get into your car, and you let me sit in between your legs while you fuck your cock into my mouth?"

For a second time that night, Toji Fushiguro choked on air. The tip of his cock drips in precum at the sound of your lewd words, "What the hell has you acting like this much of a slut, hm?"

You push up on your tippy toes a little and your lips ghost the skin of his neck before you plant a kiss there, "This guy was teasing me too much..." You say, halfway telling the truth.

"And he left you horny enough to come try seducing a professor?" Toji asks.

You graze the skin of his neck with your teeth, your hand squeezing around his erection, "I'm not trying to seduce a professor," You pull your head away so that you can look him in the eyes, "I already did that." You lean up and kiss his sharp jawline, "I'm trying to get this professor to let me do it again."

A deep and low hum leaves his lips as you kiss his jawline and Toji swallows hard. With a roll of his eyes and a hefty sigh, "Fine."

You smile and pull away from him with eager eyes.

Toji nods his head toward his vehicle, "Get in the damn car."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳���𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[katerina-marie]

The Tragedy of a Duality

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader and (Past) Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader

Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6, Chp 7 (Final)

In the present, you are a sorcerer and the cherished wife of the Honored One. In an era long gone, remembered by only one, you were ordinarily human and the beloved bride of the King of Curses. How fitting it would be, in an evening of destruction, to have your heart torn in two.

I stumbled upon this post by @godletmebeanf1wag (thank you for the idea!) a while back and was inspired, so here's my interpretation of it.

I also listened to Speak Up by Pop ETC on repeat while writing this entire thing, so I encourage you to take a listen. I feel like it ties in to parts of the story well :)

Content: JJK Universe and Canon Events (tho tweaked to incorporate reader), Fluff, Angst (the prompt is a spoiler enough), Flashbacks, Ambiguous ending, Violence, Death, Female reader but left descriptively vague, No use of y/n, True Form Sukuna in the past, ****Itadori Yuji is Sukuna's vessel in the present, Innuendos, Allusions to + Vaguely described sex so avoid accordingly. Will add more CW to each chapter if needed. ****Nothing inappropriate will happen between Vessel Itadori/Sukuna and reader in the present because he's obvi a minor and her student. All romance/physical interactions between reader and Sukuna will take place in flashbacks when he's in his true form.****

WC: 3.8k

Chapter 1

Many, Many Years Before Present

There are beams of golden sunlight that stagger through the gaps of deciduous trees, and if you look closely, dust and debris haze them past the point of being diaphanous. In the midst of them, your caravan is paused at the gaping mouth of the woods. Two paths diverge from the worn dirt road in front of you. The one to the left would keep you all deep in the coverage of foliage and darkness. The other leads you to a bustling village that remains unbothered, and you can just faintly hear the noise of it from where it lies below a sloping hill. 

You suspect your presence in this one would produce the same reaction as all the others before it: the bowing of knees, faces full of fright and wonder, and the same hushed whispers of barely concealed unrest that are shared in the shadows. Your choice would be to avoid it altogether, but the decision is not left to you. 

 “Must we?” 

You lift your face up towards your husband, and he is already watching you from the corner of his lower eye. The other stares straight ahead and into the awaiting village, his vision infinitely more capable than your own. He doesn’t answer you right away, but surely he could hear the wariness in your voice. Weeks of traveling through newly acquired lands is never something you would grow fond of. No matter how gilded the tents or plush the bedding, neither would compare when a palace is what you call home, and you are eager to return to it. 

“Sukuna?” 

You tentatively try to garner his attention, to pull his focus off what lies ahead and onto you. You reach out to lay a hand on the arm not concealed by his robes when a sussaration of fabric alerts to you Uraume’s sudden presence in front of you both. The clenching of your teeth sends small bursts of pain through your jaw when you realize that you are going to be outnumbered by your husband’s most trusted advisor. 

They bow quickly and by the time they are upright, Sukuna has nodded his permission and they cross their arms primly into their sleeves. 

“We must proceed through the village. Establishing your authority is paramount in these outer lying areas.” 

When you breathe out a sigh of annoyance, Uraume’s head jerks from Sukuna to you, and though their expression is perfectly impassive, their eyes hold an almost imperceptible hint of disdain. 

“Such majesty demands to be worshiped.”

You do not necessarily disagree, but the idea of parading yourselves in front of people who are less than keen to see you leaves a sense of unease in your stomach, and the unflinching way Uraume keeps hold of your eyes does not abate the sensation. Sukuna would never permit disrespect towards you—not from anyone—but he does not deign to involve himself in child-like skirmishes, and Uraume makes sure to keep your interactions as close to such as possible to go undetected. 

Sukuna answers with a single, elegant nod of his head and you have to hold your tongue to prevent yourself from voicing your contradictory opinion. He would listen to it, consider it even, but you know such conversations were best left to be had out of the public eye. 

“We continue forward,” Sukuna calls out, and his voice carries loud and authoritatively through the trees. Uraume bows again and then disappears as quickly as they appeared, leaving the both of you to continue leading the procession out from the woods. 

“Fret not,” he murmurs, lifting his arm just enough so you could slide your hand into the crook of his elbow. “I assure you all will be well.” 

When you arrive at the outskirts of the village, the entirety of the caravan behind you, people stop in their tracks to gape and stare. Mothers yank their children behind their legs while men’s hands twitch towards whatever part of their body their weapon is tied to. Sukuna sweeps his eyes from side to side, taking in old wood structures and stalls offering various goods, and people duck their heads and fall into bows, unwilling or unable to keep their gaze on the sight before them. 

You suppose it is not the rich, plum-colored fabric of your matching robes as they drag and dance over the ground the two of you walk on, nor is it the lengthy procession behind you. The sheer sight of Sukuna must be what drives these villagers to their knees or draws muttered curses from their lips. 

“A monster,” they hiss under their breath, and if you were anyone else you would agree.

 Sukuna towers above everyone, and the breadth of his shoulders are in of themselves inhuman. If it is not his sheer size, however, it must be the second set of arms that rest just below the first and the extra pair of eyes underneath the others while the right side of his face resembles something akin to disfigurement. Maybe it is even the markings, black and jagged and appearing even in places not displayed currently. He is a beast, in simple terms, vicious as he is cunning, and the villagers would be wise to be wary. 

Most are, from what you can see. They cast down their eyes and swear fealty to an inhuman king, too afraid to do anything that could be considered dissent. The ones that tremble in his shadow and speak blessings to your feet offer no threat to your life, nor Sukuna’s reign. 

But there are those that lurk in shadowed corners and whisper under bated breath to one another. They lower their heads just enough to disguise their contempt, but you feel the heavy cloud of tension and anger amongst those who sow seeds of discontent, and it drives you closer into Sukuna’s side. 

“We should not have come,” you whisper to him from between lips that hardly part in an effort to not displace the expression of serene boredom from your face. Sukuna says nothing, but he slips his lower right arm across your back. “Uraume is wrong. These people are beyond displeased.” 

Nervousness hastens your words and your eyes jump from every darkened alley to each barely concealed scowl that could be spotted in the crowd.  Where allegiance and obedience aren’t found, violence and retribution are surely promised. 

You tug gently on Sukuna’s sleeve. “We must do something to assuage their fears, to bribe them into forgetting their hatred for us,” you insist, and normally you would scale back the desperation in your voice if a tingling at the back of your mind is not convincing you that something is going to go very wrong. You bounce a nail off the pad of your thumb, and the sting of it distracts you.

“We can discuss this back in our tents,” he says back quietly, but his tone, while not angry, brooks no further questioning on the topic. The dismissal stings some, but after nearly three years of marriage, you have learned a thing or two when it comes to swaying the opinions of your husband. 

So you say nothing more and focus on walking forward with a plainly demure smile on your face. When the dirt road begins to spread wide again on the opposite end of the village and gives a glimpse into another section of forest, some of the earlier anxiety slips from your mind. But, something has you turning your head back briefly, and there’s not much to take in from what you had not already: the careful blankness of Uraume’s face from where they trail a couple feet behind you and Sukuna, the mindless shuffling of attendants and servants, and then the gathering crowd at the very back. They watch intently as the procession leaves the village and apprehension swirls in your belly again as you turn forward.

Hours later, in the dark of the night, the makeshift camp is silent as everyone rests from the day’s journey. You and Sukuna are sequestered in a grandiose tent in front of all the others. It is large enough to hold a bed sized for the two of you, a table and chairs in a corner, as well as a cushioned stool and small vanity off to one side that holds what you need to refresh from the day. Strategically placed candles give off a diffused glow to the space and allow your eyes just enough light to do your tasks. 

You turn from your seat at it and clear your throat to catch Sukuna’s attention from where he is sitting across the room from you. Documents are spread out on the table and he scribbles onto a piece of parchment every few minutes. When he looks up and sees the expectant tilt of your brows and the bounce of your leg as it’s crossed over the other, his lips quirk to one side in amusement and he sets down his work to focus on you. 

“You are unhappy with me,” Sukuna remarks. He sits back against the chair he is in and tosses his upper arms along the back of it lazily while the hands of his lower arms twine together in his lap. “Speak.” 

Your response is an undignified snort, and you poke your tongue into your cheek to refrain from snipping at him. On weary legs, you stand from your stool and smooth your nightgown down your knees before padding across the plush carpets draped over the ground to lean against the side of the bed closest to your husband. 

“Not necessarily,” you start, and this time it’s Sukuna’s turn to arch an eyebrow at you. “Maybe a little…perturbed.” 

He sighs and glances around the walls of your tent, and while you know he would hear you out, he is also growing exasperated with the repeated conversation. The two of you walk a delicate balance between the supreme authority Sukuna holds and the wisdom you have to share. You would not dare to undermine it, nor question it in front of anyone should it be perceived as disobedience or weakness on his part. But in the seclusion of your chambers—or your tent as of late—you cautiously advise him with lessons on humanity. 

“I have assured you, there is nothing for you to be worried about.” 

“I understand that,” you say, though you shake your head, “but something has felt wrong today, Sukuna. These villages are not pleased with you taking over rulership of the lands. A revolt would not be unexpected.” 

His expression hardens and he slowly leans forward onto his elbows as he keeps eye contact with you. “You are well aware of what would take place should such a thing happen.” 

Murder. Violence. A complete decimation of anyone who fails to comply with his sovereignty. 

You do not fear your husband, and you are not concerned for your safety in his presence, but it would be a lie for you to say that he does not intimidate you. He is otherworldly, something predatory in nature, and your body, separate from your mind, is all too conscious of how plainly human (prey-like) you are compared to him. The stillness of his body as he observes you and the deep, threatening edge to his voice sends a shiver down your spine and you have to swallow audibly before you can continue. 

“I am aware,” you tell him, and he seems marginally pleased at hearing you admit it. “It’s within your authority and I would not question it.” 

It pains you to say so, if it isn’t entirely true and untrue. You have yet to reconcile the burden of the status you hold as Sukuna’s wife. You lie awake some nights wondering when you might get used to it. Though maybe you never will, and will end your days wishing you could have had just him without all of it. 

“It is just…” you trail off, unable to get the words out of your mouth as something hot wells up behind your eyes and tightens your throat. Sukuna looks mildly alarmed at the emotion on your face and begins to stand, no doubt to come comfort you, but you hold up a palm to him and he freezes. 

“I can empathize with them, Sukuna.” Your voice is a little shaky, but you blink away the moisture on your lashes and straighten your countenance the best you can to appear strong and able in front of him. “I was one of them once, before you found me and chose me. I am human first, yet you were able to gain my trust over time.” 

Sukuna’s features soften and he sits back upright. You have no delusion in thinking that your husband is weak for anything or anyone, but you do suspect that the love he has for you gives glimpses into a shred of humanity that he maybe once had and allows no one to see. 

You smile weakly at him and tangle your fingers into the fabric of your nightgown. “I will not get in the way of what you decide is best, but perhaps we can approach this differently—bring with us provisions and goods or whatever it takes to earn loyalty first before resorting directly to bloodshed. That is all I request.” 

Sukuna is quiet in the wake of what you said, and there is a pensive edge to his face as he considers you. When a minute goes by and he has said nothing, you push off the side of the bed and turn to get into it, feeling both dejected and ignored. Before you can, a large hand catches your shoulder and halts your movement. You look back and Sukuna is standing over you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“This will make you happy?” he asks. 

You nod once, but say nothing, and Sukuna lets out a defeated exhale through his nose. He crosses one set of arms while he reaches towards you with another, and you can do nothing but comply as he spins you around to face him. 

“Very well,” he concedes. You feel a victorious grin twitching the corner of your lips, so you duck your head in mock bashfulness in order to hide it. “I’ll discuss it with Uraume tomorrow.” 

The victory is short lived and your mouth falls into a pout as you snap your head up towards him, and you know that contempt is pinching your features. Sukuna simply laughs and his own smile breaks through the rigidity of his face. 

“Their opinion will not come before yours, do not worry,” he soothes, brushing his hands up and down your shoulders, but your eyes narrow at the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Swear it?” you ask haughtily. You tip your nose into the air and watch as his gaze turns flinty. Sukuna lowers his head closer to yours and the hands on your shoulders drop to your hips to clench the skin there through your nightgown. 

“My word is not enough?” he growls, tightening his hold slightly. You just shrug and offer him a coy flutter of your lashes. Teasing Sukuna isn’t something you take part in regularly, but if a bit of attitude on your part is enough to rile him up, then you’re happy to indulge in your attempt at retribution. 

He must see the mischievousness on your face because he pushes you backwards onto the bed. Your breath leaves you in a hushed oomph and your wrists are being held by your ears at the same time Sukuna is using his lower arms to gather your nightgown in his hands and shove it up your thighs. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, even though you know quite well what is about to happen as Sukuna transfers your wrists into one of his hands to kneel between your knees. His answering smirk is nothing short of wickedly promising, and the gleam in his red eyes has heat curling in your stomach. 

He lowers his head to kiss along your thighs and you just barely hear him murmur into your skin, “such majesty demands to be worshiped.” 

Some time later, when you lie across Sukuna’s chest sated and only half awake, you are faintly aware of a hushed voice calling out for him from the entrance of your tent. The hand in your hair stills and he shifts you to one side of him as he answers back quietly. You nuzzle further into the crook of his arm and somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you recognize the voice as belonging to Uraume. They whisper back and forth to one another before Sukuna is slipping out from under you. You groan out a protest and he places a kiss to your temple as he draws the blankets higher up your back. You nestle under them to search for the remaining body heat he leaves behind, and you are already drifting off into deeper sleep when he promises you that he will return soon. 

The faintest rustling outside your tent is what wakes you first. It is apparent that Sukuna is not in bed with you, and from the dying glow of the candles, you know that some hours have passed and it is well into the middle of the night. You blink fog from your eyes and roll from your side onto your back. His side of the bed is cold, and while the blankets have kept you warm enough, the soft breeze from the small vents in the tent chill your skin. With another roll, you reach down on the other side of the bed and pick up your discarded nightgown off the floor. 

You’ve just pulled the fabric over your head and settled it down your body when another scuff of something pricks your ears. You go still and squint in an attempt to peer a bit better into the darkness of your tent. When a moment goes by and no other sound is heard, you sit up against your pillows and consider what it might be. 

Sukuna would never leave you unguarded, nor would he venture too far without taking you with him for the sake of your protection. Yet, goosebumps still erupt over your skin and icy nervousness begins to prickle at the back of your mind. The tent itself looks the same as it did from earlier. Sukuna’s robes lay scattered on the floor and some wayward pillows have ended up at the foot of the bed. Nothing else is displaced and the flaps of your tent remain tied shut. 

The idea of calling out for a guard crosses your mind and you swing your feet over the edge of the bed when a glint of steel from a dark corner captures your attention. You can just barely see a shadow slink towards you as you inhale a great breath, intent on letting out a cry. Terror floods your mind and body, and for a moment, your muscles lock in place. When it’s too late, you try to frantically crawl backwards away from the moving figure. Your last thought is to wonder if Sukuna is near enough to hear the snick of a blade being drawn and the beginning of your scream before it’s cruelly cut off. 

-----------------------------------

Three Years Before Present

An hour or two outside the city, there is an inn that sits nestled on the edges of a quiet forest. Evening has brought reprieve from the summer sun, but along with it, a humid rain shower dampens the earth and muffles the sound of joyful laughter and a jazzy piano drifting out from inside the dining lounge of the inn. Just beyond, stringed lights that glow golden are strewn between a cluster of fruit trees, and surrounding them are a modest grouping of white wooden chairs with flowers draping along their backs. A couple hours before, when the rain hadn’t yet come and the early sunset broke through the trees, your closest friends and peers gathered in those chairs to watch you exchange vows with the man who’s chest you now lean against. 

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” 

Your voice is hushed, but you angle your head back and it knocks gently against Satoru’s shoulder. He hums in response and you feel it where his cheek is pressed into your temple. His arms are bracketed around the tops of yours and cross over your chest. The delicate train of your dress is looped over his forearm to keep it off the damp patio, and the white of it is a stark contrast against the black of his tux. 

Just behind the two of you, cheers sound through from inside as a cork is popped, and you giggle at the celebratory noise of your friends. Dinner has come and gone, cake has already been served, and now that drinks flowed, mingling and dancing took over the rest of the evening. When your cheeks had flushed warm and Satoru’s tinted pink, you had covertly pulled your new husband by the wrist out a backdoor to find solace in the dark of the night and the relative quiet of outside. Now, as the two of you look out over the very spot where you traded rings just some time ago, the solitude is a welcomed opportunity to bask in the entirety of it. 

“It really is,” Satoru murmurs. The breath of his words skitter over the shell of your ear, and he squeezes you tighter to his chest when you shiver. “I’m sorry it started to rain, though.” 

You release a content sigh and snuggle in deeper to the warmth of his arms. When you turn your head up towards him, Satoru answers you with a kiss, and the heady rush that comes from feeling his lips against yours makes you wish it was time for the two of you to hurry away for your own night of celebration. But, there is still merriment to be had and people waiting to share their congratulations, so you break away from Satoru when the air in your lungs is no more and the adoring smile on his face certainly matches yours. 

“Don’t be,” you whisper, and he cocks his head curiously. 

The smell of rain and the sound it makes when it hits the roof of the inn or bounces off the leaves of the trees is something you find pleasant. You’ve always enjoyed the rain, and now is no exception, no matter if it forces your reception inside and mists your skin. 

“I’m not bothered by it,” you assure him, and Satoru seems appeased. You take another moment of quiet to glance back out at the hazy glow of the lights and inhale the crispness of the air before the two of you need to return to the party that’s going on inside for the both of you. 

“Besides,” you add, squeezing Satoru’s hand, and the cool metal of his wedding ring makes the skin of your palm tingle. “Haven’t you heard? Rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck.” 

-----------------------------

If you take the time to read this, thank you very much! Most of this fic is written, so it shouldn't take too long for the rest of it come out once it's edited.

Also on Ao3.

I'm happy to tag anyone who is interested in the following chapters.

[alloftheimagines]

jamie tartt | if somebody hurts you, i wanna fight

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+

domestic abuse, violence, trauma, the aftermath of an abusive relationship in which jamie finds out your boyfriend, his teammate, is abusing you. takes place when he's playing for manchester city.

prompt: Hey there! I would love to send a prompt request in for Jamie tartt:) number 29, I don’t know why but to me it fits him well! Nothing specific, thank you! 🥰

Jamie sees the bruises and knows. He’s never had a good feeling about your relationship with Tom, his teammate, but you’ve ignored his warnings despite being friends since childhood.

And now you’re hiding bruises. Anger flares in him, and it’s an effort not to reach out as you get up from the couch to grab popcorn, the staple of any movie night. He thought it strange you turned up on his doorstep after months of barely seeing you, but now he thinks he understands. Your T-shirt rode up for only a moment at your hip before you tugged it down, but he saw the purple welt. His jaw ticks as he listens to you shuffle about, but he can only wait so long. Fingers flexing at his side, he heads in to hear popcorn popping in the microwave.

“Do you want a beer?” you ask, oblivious. When he doesn’t reply, your brows furrow and you look up from the kitchen counter. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Has he been hurting you?” he questions steadily.

“What?” You’re a terrible actor, but you try nonetheless, eyes widening in feigned confusion. 

Jamie takes a deep breath. “Don’t lie to me. I saw the bruises just now. There’s only reason why you wouldn’t tell me about them.”

It makes him sick as he realises the truth of those words; you’d hide it because you know Jamie would react badly, perhaps even sacrificing his spot on the team. Tom’s more popular with the fans, Man City’s star player. If Jamie confronted him… He knew it would be game over. That’s why you’d kept your distance. 

And yet he still wanted to. He was already imagining it, shoving Tom against the lockers and beating him the way he’d beaten you. He’d teach him a lesson; nobody would ever hurt you again. 

He wouldn’t let them. 

You pale, tugging at the hem of your shirt again self-consciously. “I fell.”

Jamie shakes his head, barely even listening now. Lost to his fury. “I’ll teach that wanker a lesson. I’ll fucking kill ‘im. I knew he was trouble. I knew he was no fucking good for you—” 

“Jamie, please.” You grab his arm, eyes flooding with tears as you look at him. It’s enough for him to halt, still glaring. “Don’t. Please. I’m handling it.”

“Are you still with ‘im?” 

You hesitate at that, a look of shame darkening your features. 

“Then you’re not fucking handling it,” he snaps. 

“He won’t let me leave,” you whisper, chin wobbling. “I tried. That’s why he… I tried.”

His shoulders heaved with a sigh, but he softened, sympathy swirling in his eyes. “I can help you, love. You should have told me. You used to tell me everythin’.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as he cups your jaw, catching them. 

“Hey,” he breathes gently. “It’s okay. You’re safe ‘ere. You know that, don’t you?” 

A nod. He pulls you into his chest, and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering as it all comes spilling out. “I’m sorry. I thought he loved me. The first time… He was drunk. I thought he was just drunk. But then he kept… I’m just sorry.”

“No need to apologise, babe.” He plants a kiss in your hair. The microwave dings, the last remaining kernels popping behind the glass, but neither of you move to get it. “It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.” He closes his eyes, pain searing through him. He can’t bare to think of you hurting like this. He should have realised sooner. Should have known. “How long’s it been going on?”

“A couple of months.”

Too long, then. It’s always going to be too long. “Stay ‘ere with me, yeah?” he asks. “He won’t get to you ‘ere.” 

“I don’t want you involved in this—”

“You’re my best fucking friend, and I’m not letting him do this to you again. Never.” He pulls away and forces you to meet his gaze. “He won’t fuckin’ touch you again.”

“I’m begging you. Don’t confront him. Don’t do anything to risk your career. Please. Please promise me.”

His nostrils flare, but he nods. It isn’t quite a promise, though — not one he’s willing to keep, at least. 

***

He does his best. He survives practices with the fucker all week while you hide away in his house, rarely getting out of your pyjamas. He has to force you to eat most nights, though you always have a home-cooked meal on the table. He can’t enjoy them, too busy wondering if it’s a forced habit — if maybe you were punished if you didn’t have dinner waiting for Tom. 

And then Tom struts into the locker room before a Sunday match in Man City’s home stadium, his gaze already narrowed on Jamie. Wordlessly, he nudges past the other players, and the hair on the back of Jamie’s back prickles as he stops lacing his boot to look up at him. 

“I bet you think you’re a right hero, eh?” Tom sneers. “Hiding her away from me. What’d she tell you?”

Jamie’s knuckles whiten, entire body tensing, but then he thinks of his promise to you. “You dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” he replies stiffly, drawing his lace tight. 

Tom scoffs. “I know you’re the first person she’d run to.”

This time, Jamie bites, standing up to match his eye level and squaring his shoulders. “And you hate that, don’t you? It must make your fuckin' blood boil. Does it make you feel good, being an abusive twat, or are you that far gone that you don’t care either way?”

Tom slams Jamie’s locker shut, the picture of aggression. Jamie thinks of you facing him, alone in his big old house where no one is there to step in. He thinks of the way you must have flinched at that scorn, and resolves not to on your behalf. He might be breaking one promise, but he’ll keep another: Tom’ll never touch you again. 

“You gonna beat me up as well?” he asks, and that anger he’d been suppressing so well is bubbling now; he’s a volcano ready to erupt. 

“Oi!” The team manager steps in, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a job to do today. Whatever the issue is, you save it ‘til later. Am I clear?”

Jamie doesn’t back down, his eyes flaring with dangerous defiance. Tom is the first to nod,  but not before offering a smarmy smirk — as though he’s won. “Yes, boss.”

“Jamie?” 

“Yeah,” Jamie mutters finally — for you, he thinks. Anything for you. 

*

It doesn’t stop there, though. Tom carries his bitterness onto the pitch, ignoring Jamie through the game so that he’s never passed the ball, never able to score. He’s tackled him more than a few times as though they’re on different teams, and Jamie knows then that he can’t play this game anymore. He won’t. He’ll quit on Monday, find another club to sign him. Maybe even grovel to Ted and go back to Richmond. Anything to get you both out of this. 

He tries to be the bigger man, but he’s never been any good at it, so when Tom trips him in another fight for the ball, Jamie can’t do it anymore. His vision blurs into angry red lines as he stands, shins throbbing from the fall, and fists Tom’s sweaty shirt in his hands. 

“Someone needs to put you in your fucking place,” he spits, and when Tom only grins again, he launches. His fist meets Tom’s hard jaw, and pain flashes through Jamie’s knuckles. Tom sniffs, spits, and the crowd in the stadium falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop. And then Tom lunges back, and Jamie feels the blow through every bone in his body. 

It doesn’t stop him from punching him again. “See how you fuckin’ like it!” he’s screaming, again and again and again, all scrambling limbs and fierce hits between them. His knuckles and mouth turn bloody, and so do Tom's. Finally, they’re yanked away from one another.

Even as Jamie is pulled off the pitch, he’s bellowing across the field: “You’re nothing, you! A piece of fucking shit!” 

“And who are you?” Tom calls. “Her knight in shining armour? You’re useless. You’re nobody!” 

Jamie’s heard that more than a few times now. He no longer sees Tom’s face, but his own father’s. That’s why he couldn’t let this go, he realises. He could never stand up to his own bully, so he’s stood up to yours instead.

Spitting blood from his mouth, he leaves the pitch — knowing it might be for the last time. Knowing that if it is, it was worth it.

*

You saw it all on TV, and you’ve been waiting for the door to swing open ever since. Finally, it does — and you don’t even know what to say. Jamie’s mouth is swollen and his nose bloody, and you want to shout at him for being so stupid, for doing the one thing you asked him not to — in front of everyone. But in the end, you can only sigh, wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“I know I fucked it up,” he rasps. “Maybe I should be sorry, but'm not. He fuckin’ deserved it.”

“And what about your job?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You still wear your pyjamas, too afraid to go home and get fresh clothes. Too depressed to even try.

Jamie shrugs, throwing down his bag. “Don’t know yet. Doesn’t matter. I’m not playing on the same team as a dickhead like that.”

“But where will you play now?” Panic rises in you as you think about this means. You’ve never known Jamie without football, and to imagine him losing it now, because of you… It’s almost worse than what Tom did to you, maybe because you care more about your best friend than you ever could yourself. It’s wrong, but it’s true. 

“I dunno. It doesn’t matter.” He sniffs, and you sigh, softening as you move towards him to examine his injuries. 

Without a word, you head into the kitchen to wrap some ice in a towel. He follows slowly, sluggishly, as though he has no fight left in him. He used it all on the pitch. A stadium of fucking people. God, you’re angry. With Tom, with Jamie, with everyone. You shove the ice pack into his chest, blood pumping in your ears. 

“It fucking matters,” you snap. “This is your life. I asked you not to ruin it because of me—”

“My life was ruined the minute you started dating that fucking prick!” he shouts. 

You frown, confused. “What?” Your voice trembles. 

Jamie purses his lip, shaking his head as he presses the ice to his bruised jaw. “Forget it. I did what I needed to. It wasn’t just for you, either. You’re not the only one who’s been bullied before. I’m sick of pushing it aside. Sick of 'em getting away with it. I can’t fight back for myself, but I can at least do it for you.”

You understand then. His dad. Tears sting your eyes.  “Jamie…” You make to reach out, but he draws back as though your touch is venom. It hurts. You stumble back, feeling heavy and wrong. This is your fault. All of it.

“I shouldn’t have come to you. I shouldn’t have put you in this position," you say.

“Stop it. I told you it isn’t your fault.”

“It is.” You close your eyes, cheeks growing damp.

“Babe…” He’s there in a heartbeat, cupping your face with bloody hands. “Don’t. Please, don’t. Just look at me a minute.”

You do. 

“I don’t give a shit about what this means for me. I don’t care if I’m never signed again. I only care that you’re safe. The dick was taunting me, and everyone will see that, but either way… you’re what matters. Nothin’ else.”

You can’t speak, your throat thick with emotion. 

“I know you didn’t tell me because you knew this would happen, but I need you to understand that it’s happened because I love you. Because I always have and I always will. And if somebody hurts you, I’m not letting them get away with it.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. I know that. I don’t wanna be like ‘im, I don’t want you to see me like that. But I wasn’t going to let him keep doing it. Not to me or to you.”

You hate it. Of course you do. But you love him, and you know that if the roles were reversed, you’d choose him over anything. You know that this wasn’t an act of violence, but of love and pent-up anger. 

“You’re not like him,” you say gently. “You could never be like him.”

He kisses your forehead, and your eyes flutter shut again as you lean into him. 

“You’re worth it,” he whispers. “You’re worth all of it. I just wish I could’ve been there for you sooner.”

You tuck yourself into his chest as he squeezes you tightly, smelling of grass and sweat and dirt. You haven’t felt safe in a long time. You haven’t felt loved in a long time, either. “You’re here now,” you say. 

He nods, chin brushing the crown of your head. “‘S gonna be okay now. I’ve got you.” 

You finally believe him.

[deepdarkdelights]

Instinct | Taehyung x Reader

Pairing: Hybrid Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Stalking (in the animal sense lol) Fear, Blood, Murder, Kind of Cannibalism? Hunting Animals and Humans, Depictions of Dead Bodies, Non-consensual touching, Human Experimentation, Depictions of Gore, Break In, Attempted Murder, Light Spice at End, Insinuated Dub-Con, Taehyung is kind of a switch tbh

Preview: He was huddled in the middle of the road, his arms wrapped around himself as he remained crouched on the wet pavement. But you knew he was looking at you. His golden eyes were glowing back at you, like a predator glaring at you from the depths of the jungle. There was something inside you that knew that he was dangerous, an echo of intuition from thousands of years before you. But you were a modern human, you were good at ignoring your instincts. 

A/N: I wrote this in two days due to your guys' interest in the prompt. I chose Tae instead of Jimin, he only has two fics on my blog! Anyways it’s two in the morning and I’m really tired, this is really short compared to the majority of my works but I hope you still enjoy it. ILY and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments ~ good night my loves 💜

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, the words cracked and broken. 

“No, you’re not.” You sighed.  

He always did this. He always turned on the tears every time you called him out on his bullshit and you had a terrible habit of falling for it every time. He cried, he apologized, but in a few days he was back on his usual shit. 

“But I am, I really am!” He insisted, tears pooling in pretty brown eyes. 

“Really? I don’t think he sees it that way,” You said with a jerk of your head in the direction of the limp body splayed on the ground. “In fact, I really doubt he sees much anymore.”

“But he-“

“No!” You yelled, spurring a flinch from him, “You always have some excuse but not this time! I am tired of spending my evenings scrubbing blood out of the grout!” 

He could only pout in response because there was no way of getting around it, you were right. It was unfair that you always had to be the one to clean up his messes. But he just couldn’t help himself, he was a killer by design. Not nature, design. 

You let out another laborious, tired sigh. It seemed that was all you did these days, ever since you had found Taehyung. 

You had almost hit him with your car. It was late at night, a new moon to be exact, the darkness thick and just barely penetrable by your headlights. He had come out of nowhere, his lithe body trapped between two beams of light before you swerved out of the way just missing him by mere inches. 

You could remember the feeling of your tight grasp on the leather of the steering wheel, the way your throat constricted and how your chest rapidly rose and fell, and the sound of catchy pop music that was so ill fitting and off putting for such a dramatic turn of events. It was ingrained in your memory, a turning point in your life that you would never forget. 

He was huddled in the middle of the road, his arms wrapped around himself as he remained crouched on the wet pavement. But you knew he was looking at you. His golden eyes were glowing back at you, like a predator glaring at you from the depths of the jungle. There was something inside you that knew that he was dangerous, an echo of intuition from thousands of years before you. But you were a modern human, you were good at ignoring your instincts. 

As you approached him you noticed several things about him. The dirt and blood that stained his honey skin, his taunt, tense, strong muscles, and of course the ears protruding from his thick, dark curls, and the tail that swung in agitation from his tailbone. 

Taehyung was, quite literally, one of a kind. 

An embryo spliced with the DNA of an apex predator, something that had never existed before him, a hybrid. 

He had hissed at you, stopping you four feet away from his crumpled form. His teeth glinted in the light, a set of fangs protruding from the top row of his teeth with a smaller matching set on the bottom. That noise had every nerve in your body tingling in fright, yet still you persisted. 

You made yourself smaller, lowering yourself to the ground so that you were lower than he was with your arms at your sides, every vulnerable point of your body open and exposed to him. 

You remembered the feeling of his nose nudging at your pulse point, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your neck, the rumble of a growl deep in his chest before it faded to a gentle chuff as he nuzzled his face against the column of your throat.  There were serrated teeth hidden behind beautiful full lips, one little bite would sever a major artery and blood would arch through the dark sky. 

Taehyung was a dangerous brand of beautiful. 

You often liked to joke to yourself that you were a lonely woman who took in a stray cat. It was easier to use humor to veil the harsh reality of what you had actually brought into your home. 

Taehyung quickly became attached to you, it was almost like he had imprinted on you. It was the only way that you could explain his sudden and intense adoration towards you especially when you remembered the way he looked at you when he first saw you. It was like he was hungry. 

That hunger was ever present in his eyes, buried beneath the loving gaze it's embers still burned. The fiery gold cooled to a deep brown, his eyes wide in wonderment as he watched you. 

You hissed in pain when he dug his fingers into your arms as you tried to help lower him into the tub. A hiss died in his throat as he slowly sunk into the warm water, a gentle purr took its place. 

“There you go,” You hummed as you helped him wash, the tub water steadily growing murky as you scrubbed the grime and blood from his skin. 

The noise he made as you washed his hair, massaging his scalp and the base of his ears, was heavenly. A beautiful baritone groan that melted into a purr. After all, panthers were still cats. 

When you pulled the drain plug and went to grab a towel, he spoke to you for the first time. 

His hold on your arm tightened, his soft eyes turned primal once more. “Don’t leave.” 

His voice was deep and raspy. It sounded like he hadn’t spoken in a long time, it sounded animalistic. It suited him well. 

Over time you learned Taehyung never wanted to be alone. He clung to you at all times no matter what you were doing and despite your protests he followed you to bed every night. He would wrap you up tightly in his embrace sealing you into his prison-like grasp with a leg draped over your hip. His adoration was constricting. 

“It was cold,” He finally explained to you, “They kept me in a room all by myself. It was all metal and concrete, they fed me with long silver tongs. I was always alone, the only touch I knew, hurt.” 

You held him tighter that night, your heart ached for your panther. All he wanted was for someone to love him, he was just as human as anyone else. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” He whispered, nudging the back of your head with his nose and breathing in your scent as his pretty fingers smoothed over your ribs in a slow, circular pattern. 

In reality, it wasn’t you that would end up hurting anyone. 

You had noticed something was wrong when he lost his appetite. He would stare down at his plate with a bored and confused look in his eyes, poking at whatever he was supposed to be eating with a lack of interest. 

“Please, Tae,” You would beg, using the soft and soothing voice you knew he responded well to, “Just a few bites for me? You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?” 

He would acquise with those big adoring eyes before taking small and faux enthusiastic bites. But it was clear he wasn’t enjoying it and you had an idea as to why that was. But it was easier for your own sanity if you ignored the glaring problem. 

It became unignorable the night a man broke into your house. 

Taehyung had heard it first, the shattering of glass and the metal squeak of door hinges. He had crept out of bed and stalked into the hallway, clinging to the shadows as he watched the man attempt to sneak further into your home. He was trespassing into his territory and that was a dire mistake. 

You were awoken by the screaming. You jolted upright and were greeted by your pitch black bedroom. The screams persisted, deep, panicked, blood curdling screams followed by a wet gurgle and then an ever scarier silence. 

That feeling was there again, that intuition that was buried inside of you that was begging you to lock and barricade the door and not go investigating the source of those screams. But Taehyung was missing and you were scared without him. 

The hallway was dark, but a single beam of moonlight shone through the broken window of the front door and illuminated the carnage in front of you. 

Taehyung was bent over the body of a man. His tail was slowly skirting over the floor in delight as he ripped a chunk of flesh from the man’s shoulder and tilted his head back. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the blood on his face gleaming in the moonlight. 

You could see the man on the floor now, his throat had been ripped open and blood was steadily pooling around him. His eyes were vacant, his jaw was slack. He was dead. Taehyung had killed him. 

Taehyung was eating him. 

There had always been a part of you that had considered this to be a possibility. It explained why Taehyung was in the state he was in the night that you had found him. It explained how he had escaped that facility and why he wasn’t hungry for days after. He had killed and consumed his handlers. 

Despite the panther ears and tail, you often forgot that Taehyung wasn’t entirely human. He was so sweet with you, so clingy and adorable. But he was still an apex predator. He didn’t want to be fed with tongs or served cooked meals. He needed to hunt, it was ingrained in his DNA. 

You watched in fascinated horror as his teeth and textured tongue expertly removed flesh from bone. He was finally eating. 

You took a step back only to trip over a bag that had belonged to the intruder. Out of it spilled horrifyingly familiar items. Duct tape, zip ties, knives. It was a kill kit. Your breathing stuttered and your heart dropped. There was not a doubt in your mind as to what that man had planned to do, and Taehyung had stopped him. He protected you. 

His golden eyes were looking at you now, their narrowed predatory gaze relaxing, and his soft round eyes returned. He rose up from his animalistic crouch with a fluidity no normal man could possess and slowly approached you. 

You closed your eyes as he neared you, your body on fire from genuine fear. It was a toxic blend, the love and the fear that you felt for him. You flinched when his large hand cupped your face and held your breath when you felt his lips softly drag over your cheek leaving a streak of warm blood in their wake. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, a stray tear escaping his eye and rolling down your cheek, “I’m so hungry.” 

When you opened your eyes you were met with quite a sight. Taehyung had always been beautiful, the most beautiful man that you had ever seen. But the way he looked now made you realize how sick you were. How could you think he looked beautiful with those full lips stained red and the glaze of a shed tear streaked down the curve of his face. 

Taehyung never asked to be made, and now he had to suffer the consequences of his creation. 

“It’s okay baby,” You cooed, your thumb brushing a bead of blood from his lower lip that he chased with his tongue, swiping it off of the tip of your finger. “Finish your meal.” 

~~~~~~~

There was a shift that night. 

The relationship between the two of you was changing. You could see it in the way he watched you. It was a different kind of hunger, one for a companionship he had never been able to have. 

And his regular appetite was changing too. 

You tried taking him to the forest, letting him hunt small and big game. And it worked, but the human side of him would often combat the animal side. He craved the complexity of hunting humans. He craved satiating his wrath against humans, the very beings that had created him.

Animals worked in the short term, but it was never long before another man ended up dead in your yard or in this case, on the kitchen floor. 

“You said it was okay if it was bad people!” Taehyung tried, his ears pressing down flat against his skull as his tail twitched behind him.

“Yes, bad people Tae! Intruders, rapists, murderers, not delivery guys!” 

“He entered my territory-“

“This is my house, Tae! My house! Don’t start with the territory shit again.”

“I can’t help it, you know that! You don’t feel what I feel, it’s instinctual, I need to do this!”

You gripped your hair tightly in distress before leaning against the counter and dropping your head into your hands. 

“People are going to start noticing, Tae. You can’t keep doing this. If it’s not the police then it’s going to be the people that made you and they’ll take you away from me, is that what you want?”

“No!” He yelled, grabbing you by your shoulders and spinning you around to face him. “I want to stay with you, please don’t let them take me away!” 

You softened as he began to cry again, his tears wearing away at you like they always did even though you were very aware of the fact that you couldn’t keep letting him do this. You cupped his cheek and lightly wiped his tears away as he bumped the side of his face against your hand before laying a bloody kiss to your palm. 

You couldn’t think rationally when he treated you like this. Your head was also hazy with desire when he did this. It was completely and utterly unfair. 

“Come on, I’ll put you to bed.” You hummed before taking his hand and guiding him to your shared room. 

It was even harder to think clearly when he looked so adorable, wide eyed and curled up beneath your blankets. That was why you needed the distance. You needed to think about what more you could do, you couldn’t keep letting him kill innocent guys whose worst crime was getting a little handsy, like the delivery guy. You knew what it was, you knew what desire looked like in someone’s eyes. Taehyung was wiping out any man he saw as competition. He had said it himself, it was instinctual.  

Your heart ached when his eyes filled with confusion and it tore in half when despair overtook him as you shut and locked the door, trapping him on the other side. You could hear him scramble across the floor and you watched as the door knob jiggled. 

“Please open the door!” He called through the wood, “Why are you doing this, please let me out!”

“Just calm down Taehyung, go to sleep, I'll be right back.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, please open the door, I’ll be good I promise! I won’t hurt you!” 

“I just need some space, just lay down, I’ll be back.” You said firmly despite how horrible you felt for confining him to your room. 

“No, no, no, no! Don’t leave me, please! I’ll be good!” He continued to yell and continued to break your heart. 

You couldn’t bear to listen to his anguished, panicked cries especially with the knowledge that you were the cause of them. 

You could still hear his yelling and banging on the door as you dragged the body out of the kitchen, a long and laborious effort that left a large streak of blood behind you. This wasn’t the first time that you had to do this but usually you had Taehyung to take care of all the heavy lifting while you took care of the cleanup. It was a morbid, macabre chore, but one you had come accustomed to frighteningly quick.

In your backyard, there were several piles of dirt. Some had been freshly turned over while others had sat undisturbed for some time. Above each pile sat a freshly planted rose bush. There had been a time where your backyard was barren and neglected. Ever since Taehyung had entered your life, you had done quite a bit of gardening…against your will. 

You huffed in exhaustion as you patted the soil smooth with your shovel. You would need to pick up another rose bush tomorrow. 

You had figured this would be the best way to deal with the problem, and it helped Taehyung in some odd, primal way. Sometimes he would sit outside with a satisfied look on his face like he was proud of what he had done. You knew it was because it felt that he had eliminated another threat or competitor. It meant that he had you all to himself again. 

Fear and love are a volatile blend. Could you look past your fear because you loved him? Or did you love him because you were afraid? Afraid of what would happen if you didn’t shower him with affection and attention. Would he turn on you too?

The sound of a loud crack frightened you causing you to drop the shovel. It clattered to the ground and rolled over in the grass, suddenly becoming far more interesting than it had been moments ago. 

You glanced back up at the house and watched, frozen in shock, as the door was thrown open and slammed up against the siding of the house. Taehyung stood on the back steps, his hands bloody from clawing at and breaking through your bedroom door. His chest was heaving from exertion and anxiety and for the first time in a long while, he scared you. His gaze narrowed in on you, those panther eyes glowing with hunger and desire once they found you. 

With blood and dirt caked beneath your nails you were reminded of the kill he made not all that long ago. The fear you felt was all too real. And, on instinct, you turned and you ran. 

You really should have known better. He was an apex predator, he was built for the chase and for the hunt. You had watched the way he enjoyed tracking and stalking his prey before going in for the kill. But in reality, everything you had done up until this point had not made sense. You should have kept driving that night, you shouldn’t have brought him home, you certainly shouldn’t have let him sleep in your bed, and you definitely should have ran the first time he had killed and consumed another human being. 

Running was instinct, it was the only thing that you did that made sense. 

But you couldn’t make it far. You were exhausted from dragging and burying that body, you were running on empty with a dash of adrenaline. And Taehyung, he was stronger than you, faster than you, and could even see in the dark. It was embarrassing that you had even attempted to escape him. 

His strides were completely silent, you had realized he was closing in on you too late and within seconds his arms were wrapped around your chest and dragging you down into the grass. 

It had happened so quickly that you didn’t register it, you laid on your back, frozen in the grass as you processed what happened. And once you looked up and caught sight of his canines you began to writhe beneath him, managing to turn over and scramble a foot away before he grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back beneath him. He caged you in between his arms and pressed his body weight against you until you collapsed chest first into the ground. 

“Taehyung, wait!” You cried as you felt him shove his face in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

You closed your eyes then, waiting for him to make the fatal bite that you had seen him deliver time and time again. But there was nothing. You jerked with a surprised cry as you felt his tongue glide over your pulse point in slow languid laps. 

“Tae, what are you-“ He cut you off with a menacing growl, one that told you you were not going to dissuade him from doing what he felt needed to be done. 

An involuntary gasp parted your lips as you felt his hips grind down against you, his hands sliding up towards your wrists and holding them in an iron grip as his slow licks transitioned into hot, wet, open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. He was making sure he marked up every inch of skin that was exposed to him. 

“I can’t help it,” He whined, his voice breathy and deep as he ground himself against you even harder than before, spurring a soft cry from you. “I need you.” 

You supposed this was the better alternative to him killing you. But still, it didn’t feel quite right.

“I can’t.” You groaned. 

A menacing snarl echoed beside your ear and in one quick movement he flipped you over onto your back and pulled your legs tightly over his hips. His hold was so strong he wasn’t giving you an inch to move unless it was against him and in the way that he desired. 

And in a moment of pure need he firmly gripped your jaw and pressed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Everything about him was primal, even the way that he kissed. It wasn’t particularly skilled, it was definitely his first, but it didn’t lack passion or desire. He wouldn’t even let you breathe, your lungs burning and singing in desperation for air as he moaned into your mouth while desperately rutting against you. 

“Don’t leave me,” He moaned in between desperate, relentless kisses. 

‘Tae-,” You tried again only for your words to be smothered once more. 

“No, I won’t let you leave me.” 

[willows-peak]

Another multi x reader will be published tomorrow!! (Hopefully) so have this nastiness

Cockwarming heian era sukuna. Sitting on your knees in front of his throne, bare with your arms behind your back, your tongue out while he slaps his tip onto it. Pushing your head down and watching your plush lips stretch out to take his size,, keeping you still with his strong and big hand while he smirks down at you

When you whine from how sore your jaw is, he thrusts up into the back of your throat until you gag around his cock.

Hes not above letting others see you like this, too, he's more than happy ordering around his servants while you're drooling around him, bobbing your head back and forth while you can hear quick footsteps rush out the door to his chamber. "They were looking right at you, bet they want your mouth too. Wanna fuck this tight throat over n' over again. You want that, huh?"

You'd shake your head around his base, careful of your teeth grazing over the delicate veins of his girth while he laughs. "You just want my dick, don't you?" He prompts, pulling your head back enough for you to look up at him and nod eagerly. With a quick pop, his tip rested an inch away from your plush, swollen lips, a bead of pre cum forming at the tip. "Yes, my lord, I only want you, no one else."

Sukuna would smile and shove himself back into your awaiting mouth, because who said you could speak just yet?

Mm,,, maybe uraume comes in to hand him his meal, and he catches them staring at you two a little too much. "Leave the plate there, come here." And they'd hurriedly walk over to him, kneeling at his foot and trying to ignore the wet sounds of your throat as you swallowed the mix of saliva and precum swirling together in your mouth

"You getting tired, girl?" He'd ask, laughing under his breath at the weary nod you gave up at him. "Get up on my lap, then. Uraume, take care of this, quick." He'd motion to his bottom cock, all but neglected from your mouth as he seats you against the cock soaked with your drool, your back facing his chest so you get a perfect view of Uraume wasting no time with fitting his girthy cock into their mouth, feeling his top one poke against your hole, twitching up against it

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Air Mattress (Discord Drabble)

“Will you stop squirming!”

Steve grunts something that sounds like, “Okay,” and continues jostling the air mattress they have been forced to sleep on.

“Steve!” Eddie spits, blinking hard against the darkness shrouding the Henderson’s living room.

“This stupid thing is hurting my back,” Steve grumbles, turning onto his side.

His face must be a mere inch from Eddie’s because now he can feel his boyfriend’s hot breath on his neck and – 

Eddie shakes his head.

Nope, not now!

Stupid tiny air mattress and its close quarters that can barely fit two people!

He moves his arm in an attempt to elbow Steve back over, only he connects with soft, impossibly warm, bare flesh.

“Did you take your clothes off?” he splutters and Steve gripes like he is the one causing all the ruckus.

“Was too hot,” he says and yep – he’s breathing that right into Eddie’s ear now as he hooks an arm around him to pull him closer and –

“Oh my god. You have a boner!” he shrieks at full volume.

“Quiet…” Steve chides through a yawn, pressing their bodies flush and –

“You wanna do something about it?” Eddie grins up to the stucco ceiling as he flicks off the blanket.

“‘Kay…” Steve says, his sleepy voice indicating an equally mischievous smile.

He rolls onto his back and pulls Eddie with him, the mattress slipping on the floor and giving a plastic-sounding squeak as they place all their conjoined weight into the middle. Eddie wriggles around, feeling the sides of their temporary bedding rock as he shifts his legs to straddle his partner and – 

Pop!

[missmeinyourbones]

leah don't you think prompts number 8, 24, and 25 would fit dabi so well 🫶🏻

oh my GOD. my stomach dropped reading this request. i already did 25 so i hope u can forgive me for this being just 8 and 24.

NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

cw: afab!reader, referred to as "my girl" once, overstim, dirty talk, cum play, spit, kinda mean/mocking dabi, touya may be into soft sex but dabi is a Freak send tweet

you can't.

it's the only thing your mind can conjure up right now. the only word playing like a record on repeat. if your brain is on fire then your body is hell itself because every inch of you is burning like sin. it feels so good that it feels wrong and all you can think is—

can't, can't, can't.

you aren't even sure you're saying it out loud, until you feel dabi's thumbs on your spitty lips, rubbing and parting them open to stick his digits inside.

"can't?" he scoffs through rough thrusts, "can't what?"

you don't even know what you're trying to say, what you're trying to get him to do.

he mocks your cries as you suck on this finger, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. you look pathetic and he wants to swallow you whole.

"can't take it? speak up, baby."

"i can't—"

he nearly growls when he presses down on your stomach, "yes, you can."

he pulls out of you with a lewd pop, and though your lungs thank him for the temporary mercy, your body betrays you. shaking and whimpering at the emptiness, you thrash beneath him.

dabi shimmies upwards, off of the weight of his forearms and onto his knees above you.

he takes his flushed cock, veins so prominent he can nearly see the blood running through them, and he taps his head at your sticky hole.

he hisses in amusement when you jump and gasp at the teasing.

"you can take it, you've done it before," he mumbles beneath his breath before letting his hips buck themselves into you slightly.

his mouth pulls upward into a sickeningly sweet smile when he reminds you.

"in fact," he watches your hands grip the sheets beneath you until your knuckles turn white, "you do it every fuckin' time, right?"

he watches as his tip just barely gets swallowed by you, your hole quivering to stretch around him as it takes him in and pushes him out with a tacky squelch. it's disgusting and dabi decides wants to see it every time he closes his eyes.

"take my dick like a champ, baby," he lets himself rut against your hips, tip hardly moving inside of you, "cause you love it, right?"

he's hovering back over you, still barely fucking himself into you as he lets his hand find your jaw once more. he's caressing you softly compared to his mocking words.

his delicate touch forcing your head to slightly nod when he cruelly coos into your eyes, "yeah? right?"

the sound of your sloppy cunt is echoing in his mind, so he indulges himself in looking back down to where you two connect.

it's borderline insane, how his cock disappears into you before reappearing with a mere pull of his hips. it's magic, he thinks, both the anatomy of it all and how he's managing to control himself right now.

"look," he taunts, reaching forward to grab your neck and tilt it downwards.

and he's right. strings of cum and spit webbing you together as he continues to fuck you with only his tip. he nearly salivates when whispering, "look how messy you are."

your whines and gasps ignite something so primal in him, something he didn't even think he had until he's suddenly alarmingly aware of it, pressing you beneath him and letting his tongue find your pulsing skin.

"so you'll take it," he decides, pushing himself completely inside of you again.

"cause my girl's not a quitter, right?"

[superblysubpar]

#82 from the first smut prompt list SCREAMS enemies to lovers hate fucking with either steve or eddie. bonus points for rockstar!eddie or king!steve

Hello lovely! SO. This dialogue actually fit perfectly in a little thing I'm working on - not quite hate fucking, but I've got this little modern!eddie one shot that's almost done. He's not quite a rockstar, but he does play with his band still from time to time. Anyways, enjoy the 500ish word teaser of it and let me know what you all think! Ready for the oneshot? 👀

Pushed up against the brick, barely a block down from the bar, and he had his tongue licking into you. A hand on your hip that dared to rise higher and higher, rucking up your sweater until his nails could scratch your side, till his fingers could rest against your ribs, thumb playing with the lace he found. His other palm was flat against the cold stone, legs spread wide, taking up space and caging you in. 

His lips were sure, warm, tinged with the bourbon of his cocktail and the cigarette you interrupted. They moved over yours gracefully, silky and smooth, parting your mouth easily and swallowing your sigh. The sort of kiss that felt like your lips touched something electric, a quick prick of a shock straight down your spine until you felt warmth flow through your body, surging and shooting across your veins. Passion and confidence explode out of him as he keeps kissing you like his life depends on it, pulling your bottom lip between his and tugging, teeth biting into the soft skin a little mean. Underwear growing far more damp than you were expecting it to tonight, wet lace and cotton sticky with arousal. 

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the smooth and hard pecs beneath the black cotton shirt, and you can’t help but wonder how many more tattoos like the ones that disappeared under his sleeves lie beneath it. He releases your lip with a pop, breathing heavily and giving you another quick peck as your fingers descend, scratching as they go and making him shiver. 

He noses at your cheek, lips ghosting over your jaw as you breathe heavily, chests bumping as you both catch your breaths. Your fingers reach the hem, tugging it free from where it’s tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. His hand has dropped, toying with the edge of your skirt, fingers daring to skim the thigh beneath it and he swallows harshly as they trail higher. The skin beneath your tights has erupted in goosebumps and you shake your head, laughing breathlessly.

“I…what the fuck am I doing. I don’t like you. You’re not my type.”

He smirks, fingers landing where your body wanted him most, feeling how wet you are, the damp patch on the outside of your tights. He chuckles as your body arches against the brick at the press of one finger, then two, and the gentle circles he makes against your clit sending your stomach into knots even through the layers. 

A kiss pressed to the hinge of your jaw, nose dragging down your neck as his open mouth leaves a trail of hot breath and more goosebumps and your hips circle his wrist, pressing down onto his fingers with more weight. 

“Really? Because your pussy’s saying something different, sweetheart.”

Groaning at his crude comment, it quickly turns into a whine as his mouth latches onto your neck. His lips pressed gently in a kiss before his teeth tug at the skin between them, your fingers pull at his belt loops, needing more. 

Fuck, maybe Robin and Steve were right about this after all. 

[stvharrngton]

Hiii sweet cheeks!! Can I request "don't be shy now, sit on my face." Prompt for the 1k celebration pretty please, I just LOVE your smut and I know you are going to make some masterpiece with this prompt.

And congratulations again on this milestone, you are truly an amazing writer and deserve the absolute best, I love you so much babe❤️💫.

thank you my love for your kind words! ilysm! here it is, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting 💘

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), face sitting

prompt: “don’t be shy now, sit on my face”

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

Steve’s back was flush with the mattress, the fabric of your sheets soft against his bare back. His head was propped up against the pillows, your hands grasping at his broad shoulders, fingers leaving little crescent marks for later.

Large palms resting on your bare thighs, your tits pressing against the smattering of hair across his chest, your shirt and bra thrown off long ago. Your lips melded together perfectly, fitted between one another like you were made for each other.

You’re not sure how a simple, innocent make out session on Steve’s bed led to you both being half naked with you sat atop his lap, but you weren’t complaining. Tongues licking into each other all pretty, small sighs and gasps being swallowed by the other’s mouth.

Steve moved his hands to the swell of your ass below your skirt, squeezing at the flesh tightly. You keened at his touch, a sweet sigh leaving your lips as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. Then his lips moved to your neck, sucking and licking at the tender skin there.

He’d no doubt leave a hickey, and you’d scold him for it tomorrow morning. But Steve didn’t care.

Steve hummed against your skin as his hands rubbed up and down your sides softly, your breath heavy in his ear. He pushed you back a little, his neck stretching so he could mouth at your tits. Engulfing one of the pert buds in his mouth, tongue swirling before releasing with a pop. He groped at the soft flesh gently, cupping and squeezing at your chest.

You mewled at his touch, feeling your arousal poole at your core beneath the soft cotton of your underwear. You could feel the dampness between your legs grow and you were sure you were leaving a small damp patch on Steve’s light grey sweats.

“So pretty, baby,” Steve cooed into your skin, tongue still lapping at your nipple, “my gorgeous girl.”

“Steve,” you whined. Eyes rolling to the back of your head at his words.

“Can we try something new, sweetheart?”

A little noise rumbled at the back of your throat. You nodded gingerly at his question.

“Can we— Do you wanna sit on my face?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at his proposal, your lips pursing together at the thought. Images of holding yourself up above Steve as he lapped at your cunt from below, strong hands all over your ass and hips, flashed through your mind. It made your pussy flutter, a tingle running down your spine.

“Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.” Steve spoke softly, hand cupping your cheek carefully, “I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, the pressure in your stomach building evermore. You nodded shyly, a strangled ‘okay’ tumbling past your lips.

Steve groaned at your response, his teeth teasing his bottom lip. He tapped your ass urging you to get up, leaning up to hook his fingers into your underwear to pull them down your legs. You moved to unzip your skirt before Steve stopped you.

“Leave it on, baby.” Steve hushed, pulling your hands in his as he lay back down.

You laced your fingers together as you pressed your knees into the pillows either side of his head. Fingers now gripping the headboard of his bed, Steve’s arms wrapped around your thighs to grip your hips to hold you steady over him.

It was a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. The boy a near wreck beneath you just at the sight of you. His cock strained against his sweats as he took in your wet pussy with his hungry eyes.

You were dripping. Sopping wet. The pool of slick gathered at your hole, trickling down your thighs and towards your ass. You felt dirty. The good kind of dirty.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned out, fingers digging into your hips, “you’re so fuckin’ wet already. This all for me?”

“Yeah, Steve, fuck,” you whined as his tongue darted out to lick into you all sweet and soft, “all for you.”

Steve’s tongue lapped at your core, the tip curling into your leaking entrance. His ministrations were so soft, so gentle, yet so hot. You clung to the headboard for dear life as he began to suck on your clit, the nub throbbing against his plush lips.

He was always so messy with it, his own saliva mixing with your slick. The mix of his spit and your juices smearing all over his mouth and chin, his nose pressed right into your clit as his hands brought you down against his mouth properly.

You mewled above him, head rolling back in pleasure as Steve continued to lick and suck at you in all the right places. Fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, you bunched it up towards your stomach, your free hand moving up your bare skin to grasp and play with your tits.

Steve moved his hands south to grasp at the flesh of your ass. He squeezed and pulled at the supple skin, his palm coming down in a playful slap. Lips sucking on your clit harshly as you rolled your nipple between finger and thumb, a loud moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” you whined, “how are you always so good at this.”

Steve groaned into your cunt, the hum against your clit sent vibrations right up your spine. The pressure was building in your stomach, the coil turning and twisting as you edged closer to your orgasm. Your hips were rocking involuntarily now, dragging your pussy over the flat of Steve’s tongue.

He urged you on with his fingers still digging in your ass, his brows pinched together in concentration as his eyes were squeezed shut. You reached down to tangle your fingers into his wild hair, pulling on his soft locks as you fucked yourself on his mouth.

You heard the groan that rumbled in the back of his throat as he breathed it into your pussy. Steve’s hips rutting off the bed, fucking his strained cock into thin air.

“Just like that, Steve,” you whimpered, teeth gritting together as you hissed, “‘m gonna cum, oh Steve.”

Steve’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he felt you grind your cunt down onto his mouth, using him how you pleased. His tongue unrelenting, licking and sucking harshly at your core, lapping up all your juices.

Your orgasm peaked, white hot pleasure rolling throughout your spent body, “Oh, don’t stop, please don’t stop, Steve.” You cried, head rolled back in euphoria as you tugged on Steve’s hair.

Jumbles of moans and whines tumbled past your lips as you writhed above Steve, his tongue still licking into you as your orgasm leaked all over his face. The tip of his nose still nudging your clit until you couldn’t take much more, the overstimulation taking over.

You moved gingerly off his mouth, sliding down to sit your bare pussy on his stomach. Breath heavy as you leant back on your palms, yelping when Steve reached his thumb out to brush over your clit.

Steve settled his palms on your thighs, stroking soothingly across the doughy flesh. Your slick still dripping down his chin, his tongue darting out to lick at the remnants of your orgasm. He grinned at your spent figure sitting atop of him.

“Was that good, pretty girl, hm?” He cooed.

“So good.” You said with a breathy chuckle.

[allaboutnayeli]

messy kisses [j.gutiérrez x reader]

prompt: jana does your makeup and then you two mess it up.

author notes: there is no tigres fanfiction and that's actually disgraceful 💔 so i decided it's my job to introduce the girlies to woso tumblr, starting with my babygirl jana. enjoy it y'all, it's a cute lil fic! P.S. i know nothing about makeup so don't kill me if this is inaccurate thanks! (and badly translated spanish, duolingo is my worst enemy).

"if you poke my eye with that, i will hit you," you move your face out of the way of the eyeliner in jana's hand. she was trying to do your makeup for the first time ever after begging you, but it wasn't going so well so far.

"it wasn't even about to go into your eye. stop, amor," she giggles as her free hand moves your face back where she wants. placing a kiss on the corner of your eye which the eyeliner poked you. "it just feels like that sometimes," jana shrugs. adjusting herself on your lap as best as she could with your hands gripping her waist. still a frown sits on your lips as you look up at her. the woman was already pulling out her signature puppy eyes that you couldn't resist. you try to look away from her, but jana's hands are strong, so you couldn't even get out of her grasp.

jana mumbles a pretty please as she leans down and pecks your lips. pulling away with a small pout on her lips; puppy dog eyes and a pout? she was pulling out the big guns.

you just roll your eyes before throwing your head back against the couch, "ugh, fine, continue on. but if that thing pokes my eye, i'm calling the cops."

"you don't even like the cops, bebe," jana immediately gets back to working on your eyeliner. going slow so you could feel as comfortable as possible. "i like brooklyn nine-nine, so basically the same thing," you reply.

"so not the same thing, but keep telling yourself that," your girlfriend basically whispers as she focuses all her energy into doing the eyeliner. with comfortable silence settling in-between you two, it's easy for you to start to appreciate the cute face of your girlfriend. the mexican player have recently dyed her brunette hair red and the color was really doing wonders for her. of course jana is always gorgeous, but she has a new sparkle with the new hair color; it fits her. the cute habit of hers where she sticks out her tongue in concentration is showing as the eyeliner presses against your skin. you fight the urge to poke her tongue like you always do when that habit pops out, but you would rather not be poked in the eye so you don't.

it feels like an hour passed by the time jana is done. pulling away slightly to look at her work. "perfecto, te queda adorable," the redhead giggles. admiring how the black sharpens out your eye shape. now it's your turn to pout as you say, "okay, great, so does this mean we're done?"

"of course not, mi amor! i haven't even done your other eye yet," jana rolls her eyes. giving you a small pinch on the cheek. a light groan leaves your lips, pulling her hand away from your cheek. "babe, my love, my pretty girl, can we please just stop all this and go watch some netflix? i'll even massage your shoulders how you like it," you reason.

the mention of a massage almost makes jana give in, almost. however, of course she couldn't let you have a day of peace as she shakes her head. already getting back into position to do eyeliner on your bare eye.

"nope, just sit back and relax. just relax, bonita. i'm going to make you look better than an instagram model," jana says, her tongue already getting ready to poke out of the side of her mouth. you groan hearing her words, but still does exactly what she says. i mean she is your girlfriend.

it takes way longer than it should for jana to finish the makeup; you kept trying to distract her and beg for her to just cuddle up with her, but the woman always refused. too determined to get the makeup on your skin.

a mix of pink and white eyeshadow sits on your eyelids while a rosy pink colors your lips. a dark shade of red lip liner sharpening out the pink color. you begged jana to not put any foundation or contour on you and she let you get that one little thing for this once, but the next time she does your makeup she's doing everything. regardless of your complaining.

now it was time for the final boss; "time for fake lashes, princesa," jana says mischievously, holding up a pack of the shall not be named item in her hand. she can already tell you are about to fight against this too with that scared expression on your face.

"babe, nooo!" you whine as she walks closer to you. you put your hands up, grabbing onto her waist. pulling her down onto the couch before straddling her. "even contour would have been better. can't we just do that instead?" you lay on top of her. forcing her down with your weight (those days at the gym have been helping out truly).

"nope, that offer expired when you said no the first time," the mexican player giggles. giving your cheek some kisses. "but babe.." you try one more time to change her mind, but nope. jana just kisses the tip of your nose when you pulled away to look at her.

"absolutely not. get up off of me and lay back, you know, just relax," she says.

now jana is straddling you by the waist, giggling as you keep moving your face. trying to avoid your inevitable fate. it didn't matter if she needed to tape your face down to the couch, you were going to get these lashes on your face, no matter what.

"bonita, please, just calm down," the redhead tries to reason. using her free hand to grip onto your face, holding it still.

"no, babe, you don't get it! what if it glues on and never comes off?" you try to bite at her hand, but she pinches your cheek making you finally give in. letting out a soft hmph of annoyance as you can tell jana won't be letting up any time soon. "it wouldn't do that, my lashes are nice. i swear. just relax, bebe, i got you," she smiles. moving slightly to grab the lash glue bottle near your head.

you watch as she puts some of the glue on the lash strip, making sure it wasn't too much. then she leans down close to you; again her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth like it always does when she's concentrated. at least you will have a great view while being basically tortured.

finally jana puts a lash on your lash line, mumbling out a soft is this okay? as her eyes peer down at yours. "always, baby," you mumble back up at her. your hands holding onto her waist, rubbing gently on the skin there. once jana thinks she's been holding onto the lash long enough, she lets out. her hands going to hold onto your face. leaning down to kiss you.

you giggle into the kiss. the feeling of the lash on you doesn't feel bad; a little funny, but not bad. jana presses down on you, pulling away to look at your face fully.

"you're so pretty.. you know that right?" she says softly. one of her hands holding your face, her thumb playing with your lower lip. before you can even say some sarcastic comment, she says, "not because of the makeup or the single lash you have on," that makes you chuckle. "i'm just in love with your face and you and everything about you and just you. i don't know," she says softly.

"if you love me so much then you are going to not put that other lash on, right?"

"nope. i can't leave my baby with just one lash on," the mexican player laughs. leaning down to kiss the pout that sits on your face. grabbing another lash for your other eye. doing the same process of putting the glue onto the lash strip before putting onto you. letting it sit for a minute or two, jana giving a kiss as an reward for you being so still.

"now can we finally just go cuddle? i don't even want to wash this all off yet," you murmur as you pull her fully onto you.

"whatever you want, princesa," she says into your neck.

you two are now cuddling on the makeshift bed in the living room. you have pushed all the parts of the couch together to make one huge cushion and just threw blankets and pillows over it. jana having grabbed some snacks from the kitchen so you two can munch while lazing around watching bottoms.

"between us, am i the loser girlfriend and you're my super hot cheerleader girlfriend or no?" you say as you lay your head on jana's chest. "loser girlfriend probably, but in a good way. i swear," she plays with your hair as her eyes focus on the tv screen.

your makeup was already a little smudged from laying your face against the redhead, but it wasn't that bad. that was until jana asks, "would you make a fight club just to get me to pay attention to you or no?"

"of course, babe. i would even beat your ass to show my love," you say. smiling once she leans down to kiss you. "very hot of me, huh?" you mumble against her lips.

"so hot," she mumbles back. moving her hand onto the back of your neck to pull you back into the kiss. it lasts long as you eventually have to pull away for air. panting as you admire how pretty jana looks; her lips slightly swollen.

"your lipstick.." she pouts as she looks at how smudged your lipstick and lip liner is now. "noo, my hard work," she rolls her eyes before giggling, "it's my fault i guess."

"all your fault. i didn't tell you to kiss me," you pull her back into a cuddle. jana wraps her arms around your waist, her turn to snuggle her face into your chest now.

"mhm, whatever, you're just too pretty and irresistible."

"whatever. shut up and watch the movie."

© thinkingaboutjaedyn

credit to @/cafekitsune for the dividers

[arctrooper69]

Born for This

This is my gift for @starborncyare-deactivated202303 as a part of the @cloneficgiftexchange (which you should go and check out bc there are a TON of amazing fic authors).

Prompt: "Cyar'ika no." // "But it followed me back to camp!"

P.S. Sorry for posting so late tonight. I meant to post it earlier but life got in the way. Hope you like it though!

Holy crap I tagged the wrong person 😱😱😱 I'm so sorry!

Warnings: None?

--------------------------------------------------

"Where in the kriffing galaxy have you be -" Kix stuttered, cutting himself off as you walked through the door holding what looked like a large bundle of towels. Whatever you were carrying barely fit in your arms. "Uh...what is that?"

Before you could respond, the bundle began to wiggle and two long angular ears popped out of the top.

Kix's look of concern flipped to one of disbelief in a matter of nanoseconds.

Oh Force, not again.

Jesse and Hardcase had brought him an injured tooka the week before and it had wrecked havoc in his med bay when it got loose. Kix desperately hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of that disaster.

Though, despite his initial worries, he had to smile. You did look awfully cute sporting that wide grin of yours. He loved how the tip of your nose crinkled when you were truly happy.

Kix took a step forward, curiously peering at the creature cocooned in your arms.

Oh. Kriff.

He almost wished it was a feral tooka.

He slid his hand down his face and took a deep breath as he stepped back. "Cyar'ika," he said evenly, keeping his voice as calm as he could muster. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

You looked down as the creature in question poked his head out from beneath the towel, large yellow eyes curiously gazing around the room.

"This little guy?" You cooed at the large cub. He barely fit in your arms.

"Little!?" Kix almost yelled, shooting you an incredulous look. "That thing is a gundark and could very easily tear you apart!"

As if on cue, the cub let out a purring growl before yawning, displaying rows of razor sharp teeth.

You frowned. "His name is Tiny and I don't think he likes what you just said about him."

Kix pinched the bridge of his nose, not quite believing the scene before him.

"You named it!?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

"And....what made you decide to bring it here?"

The gundark whined, knocking his head against your shoulder, blinking up at you.

"He was wandering around just outside the base. I think there's something wrong with his paw. He was limping and I thought you could help him!"

"It is a gundark, cyar'ika. Please get it out of my med bay before it eats someone."

Your expression fell. "But he's hurt! He doesn't have a mom anymore! We have to keep him!"

"No. Absolutely not. Go outside. Put it down immediately and go wash your hands."

"But he followed me back to camp! I think he thinks I'm his mom now. Please at least just help me patch him up!"

Kix sighed. Part of him wanted to yell at you, tell you that the cub was dangerous, that it could seriously hurt you. Kix had seen brothers be torn to pieces by these creatures. He could still hear their screams as they were eaten alive. He wanted that danger as far away from you as possible.

On the other hand, the amount of compassion you displayed towards this injured animal was the same kindness he'd seen you show daily as you helped nurse his wounded brothers back to health. You were born for this - he saw it everyday. Watching you be so gentle towards such a bloodthirsty creature stirred something inside of him. You were strong, he knew that, and as much as he tried to keep you out of trouble, danger just followed along behind, but you faced it head on with such a genuine, loving thoughtfulness. It was part of who you were.

Maybe it was time to act on those feelings that had been growing stronger day by day.

Kix chuckled softly as his hand grazed your shoulder. He smiled warmly, latching onto that growing sparkle of dedicated excitement in your eyes.

"Alright, cyar'ika. Let's see what we're working with."

--------------------------------------------------

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[hey-august]

omg #5 for a blue bottle with quotes #1 “Give me that.” and #6“I like this.”? and super congrats on 250!! Your writing is wonderful <3 <3

Thaaaank you so much, anon!! I appreciate this so much! 🩷 I'm glad bottle was the first one I got to write - it was the first one I came up with when creating the prompt list. 🥹🥹

Prompts: Bottle (blue), "Give me that." "I like this." Teaser: "Messages in a bottle - feelings and thoughts sent into the world by cowards who were too afraid to keep them." Warnings: SFW. Not an established relationship. Some negative feelings of not being enough, stagnant, and not fitting in. Word count: ~1.4k

Check out my 250 Follower Prompt Event and see fulfilled prompts here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Captain, we found another one!”

Buggy’s head whipped around before the rest of his body turned, facing away from the shoreline he had been studying. Cabaji held up a bottle. It was sealed and unlabeled. The blue glass turned translucent in the sunlight and revealed a shadow within.

“Give me that!” Buggy shouted as a hand zoomed over to snatch the bottle. He held it aloft to study the movement inside while questioning Cabaji. It was by luck that one of the crew noticed the odd bobbing in the water not long ago. 

The pirate captain retreated to his quarters, footsteps moving in time with the drumming in his chest. He was certain this was another one. The bottle and the wax coating the top were familiar. Fingers picked at the trails that hardened along the neck of the bottle, a fruitless attempt at assessing how long ago the container was filled, sealed, and tossed. Just like all the others, the material stuck fast. No softness indicating recent activity, nor crumbling from an extended passing of time.

Buggy pulled out a knife from one of his coat’s interior pockets and deftly cut along the mouth of the bottle before sticking the knife into the wax covered cork. He tugged. And tugged again. And once more. Barely any movement. He slapped the heel of the bottle, hoping it would jostle the cork. Nothing. Shit. Gripping the wooden handle tightly, he tried twisting next. And tried. An awful screeching squeak filled the room as the cork whined from the motion. Satisfied with the movement, he pulled again. Nope.

Frustration coursed through his muscles, trembling his hand and shaking the bottle. If he wasn’t so worried about the object inside, Buggy would have welcomed the tinkling of smashed glass long ago. The captain collapsed into the chair behind his desk and eyed the sapphire bottle. He chewed on his lip and sucked his teeth, letting the thoughts in his head run their courses. With a silent nod, he nested the bottle between his knees and gripped the neck in one hand. Disconnecting an arm, that hand gripped the knife handle once more and drew back. After a few tense seconds, the cork popped with a hollow sound. As if his lungs had been corked as well, Buggy released his own breath.

Finally, he was able to tease out the paper inside and unfold it. The papers were never rolled, always folded. It seemed to be easier to stuff them inside the bottles this way. Familiar handwriting filled his vision. Familiar, yet unknown. Buggy didn’t know the author, but had come across enough bottles and letters to create a one-sided connection. Well, sort of one-sided. While the pirate had read seven (soon to be eight) letters, he currently had six bottles in his possession - three brown, one green, and the newest blue bottle. He had used two other bottles to send his own letters out to sea, filled with anonymous responses and shameless hope that they may find their way back to the owner.

Why, though? Why did these writings have such a hold on him? Buggy wasn’t sure. At first he thought they were silly. Of course he expected the first few to be treasure maps, not words from an unknown person. Messages in a bottle - feelings and thoughts sent into the world by cowards who were too afraid to keep them. But in each one, he learned more about the author. About you. He felt special reading your innermost thoughts. The ones that you couldn’t trust to anyone, so you released them to find their own journey or disappear.

You wrote about sunrises and sunsets. How you wished you could live among the colors on the horizon. The ink captured your loneliness and longing in words that matched the ache Buggy held inside. Feelings of not belonging, of not being enough, not doing enough, of fear, and of regret. You wrote about pain. And happiness. Sometimes you drew pictures of seashells you found. Of the seagulls that woke you up each morning. The crabs that you believed bullied you whenever you walked along the shore. So many details, but never enough about who you actually were.

Buggy wanted to know more. He wanted to offer you what you wanted - to live in a world of color. To find a place where you belong. Even though there was a slim chance his own responses would find you, there was a chance. Maybe. Eight of your own letters found their way to him, so perhaps that luck could extend the other way.

Afraid of skimming your letter too fast and speeding through the moment with excitement, Buggy dragged a finger below each word. He paced himself, wanting to savor the warmth of another new connection with you. He also admired each detail, as if it were art. Splotches where the ink flowed too fast, the places where you forgot to dot your i’s, the inconsistent spacing when you wrote too fast or worried about running out of room, the way your a’s always tilted to the side. 

In this letter, he could see your handwriting change along with the intent behind your message. What started with lighthearted musings and observations soon turned emotional. Shakey thoughts about the world beyond the one you knew. Concerns that you were wasting your life just dreaming. Hopes for a sign - something that would pull you out of the pit you felt trapped in.

Despite all that you poured onto the paper, there was still space for your little scribbles. Scattered seagulls looked at Buggy from the margins of the paper, as if waiting for him to do something. Even though he was only seeing them second-hand, the pirate could see the annoyed endearment you held for those noisy shits. But it was the picture you drew towards the bottom of the paper that really caught Buggy’s attention.

“Oh, this works. I like this…” he muttered to himself while leaning in. 

He pulled the paper close to scrutinize the lighthouse you drew. Your house. In a previous letter you mentioned living in a lighthouse, but that was barely enough information to do anything with. There was no way he could go up to each lighthouse he sailed past and successfully ask if someone had been sending messages in a bottle. Well, he tried it once and nearly got knocked out. You must be somewhere in this area, based on where the bottles were picked up. Now he had a visual to reference and a little more hope to hold.

---

Stepping around the crab holes littering the beach, you headed towards the edge of the water for your morning walk. A cool breeze swept past and dragged grains of sand to meet your bare feet. Unlike you, the sun was still waking up. A blanket of creamy orange and fiery red blended into the slate-blue of the retreating night.

Among the caws from the seagulls and the whispers of incoming waves was a soft but high-pitched scrape. The sound of something being dragged along the sand. It wasn’t long before you came across the source - a blue bottle rolling on the shore. You picked it up cautiously, wondering if it was one of your own tossed bottles.

Back at home, you picked off the wax top and untied the soggy red and white striped fabric wrapped around the neck. It took a few tries before you were able to pull out the paper inside. A paper filled with loopy handwriting in blue ink. A letter that felt like it was intended for you. Someone wrote about receiving a message in this very bottle, a message that they read multiple times before finally replying, in hopes the bottle would find it’s way back. The swirls of ink were comforting, building words that unfurled in your chest. Words that made you feel seen and heard, despite the anonymity.

You had started writing to release some of the thoughts that had been plaguing your mind. A part of you hoped they would find someone who felt similarly, but you believed it was more likely that the pieces of you would sink to the ocean floor and cease to exist. And if your bottles were found, you never expected the sentiments would be returned. And yet, fate felt differently.

Hot tears stung your eyes and fell onto the paper before you pushed it away. Tears brought by the comfort of a stranger. Someone who also experienced hardships and struggles, and carried fear. But they also lived. They described a vibrant life, the kind you dreamed of. The kind you’ll keep dreaming of, growing from the seed embedded in this letter and from the care a stranger held for you.

[film-in-my-soul]

the world will follow after | 2,617 | MacksDramaticShenanigans / @stevethehairington

Summary: Another glance at the clock and Steve really has to leave now. He barely has time to shove the piece of toast Eddie, so graciously, made for him (crisp, but not too crunchy, and definitely not burnt, with just the right amount of butter spread thin across the top) into his mouth before he’s running towards the door. He’s about two steps away from it, hand already reaching for the knob, when Eddie catches him. He gives Steve's shoulders a squeeze, then spins Steve around and reaches for his collar next, fussing with it until it’s straightened and flat. He pats Steve twice on the chest and gives him a smile. “All set now,” he says. Then, “have a nice day at work.” Steve, at the complete whim of his scrambled brain, smiles back, tells Eddie thanks, glances at his watch, curses under his breath, then leans in to kiss Eddie goodbye. Then, just as quickly, he’s out the door and in his car and finally on his way to work. It isn’t until he’s halfway there that it hits him what he’s just done. He kissed Eddie Munson.

temptations of trouble | 2,812 | MacksDramaticShenanigans / @stevethehairington

Summary: Eddie ignores the flip flopping in his stomach as he meets Steve’s gaze and fits his palms to either side of Steve’s jaw. Cradles his face like he’s something special now. (Because he is.) And then he leans in to kiss him. Right on those pretty pink lips of his. It’s short and sweet like it always is, but when Eddie pulls back and opens his eyes, he’s met with Steve’s, wide as fucking saucers, goggling unblinkingly back at him. He can feel Robin’s stare boring into the side of his face, can feel the tiny pinpricks of Nancy’s and Jonathan’s and Argyle’s on his back too. The whole room is quiet enough to hear a god damn pin drop. Eddie is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell that’s all about when it finally catches up with him. He just fucking kissed Steve fucking Harrington. On the mouth.

(see more recommendations below!)

promise me nothing, live 'til we die | 2,968 | MacksDramaticShenanigans / @stevethehairington

Summary: “You’ve seriously never had your first kiss, though?” Eddie snorts. “Why do you sound so disbelieving? Come on, Harrington. I don’t exactly have a long line of suitors winding out my front door, vying for my hand or anything. Nobody wants to swap spit with the local freak. They might catch something.” He gives Steve a scrutinizing look. “I’m not like you, King Steve.” “I’m not worried about catching anything from you,” Steve says. Eddie tilts his head, perplexed. “Okay… thanks?” Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean, if no one else wants to, I will.” “Will what? Line up outside my door?” Eddie scoffs. “Kiss you,” Steve says and knocks all the air out of Eddie’s chest. “I’ll do it.” Eddie’s eyes have got to be as big as dinner plates as he blinks at Steve. “What?”

waiting for the hammer to fall | 1,264 | stellarpoint (pettifogger) / @heybluechild

Summary: From the stereo, Freddie Mercury’s voice kicks in with a familiar refrain. Steve taps along to the beat against the steering wheel. From the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie watching him. “What?” Steve prompts. “I like this song.” “You— what?” “I like this song. Dude, I literally own this album. Look.” He gestures towards the glove compartment, which Eddie pops open. Sure enough, among the cassettes crammed in with the BMW’s instruction manual and Steve’s registration info, Queen’s The Works is nestled between a copy of Born in the U.S.A. and Abbey Road. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Eddie says, not missing a beat. A sharkish grin spreads across his face. “The King isn’t as much of a square as I assumed.”

Nine Stops | 2,406 | Aww_Canon_No

Summary: And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah. Yep. Yes. Steve is kissing him. It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it. Eddie sees Steve on the train. And he looks really, really tired.

this is the year | 3,818 | alchemystique / @alchemistc

Summary: “I need your help,” Eddie tells him the moment Wayne pulls the screen door open. He’s all nervous energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his thumb in his mouth and hair even messier than usual, a little wild-eyed, the way he sometimes gets in the middle of learning a new song, writing out a new campaign. “If you’ll let me in the door I’ll do my best,” Wayne tells him, and Eddie bounds back three steps, tapping his fingers against his thigh. The TV’s on, tuned to – “Are you watching baseball?” “No,” Eddie says, automatic, and then, “Yeah. Shit, yes.”

don't go on the patio (beware of the pool) | 3,970 | alchemystique / @alchemistc

Summary: “Hey, what is it called if I like people without boobies?” And that is – well that’s just not fair, is it? Because Robin had spent years fighting herself about it before she was willing to even entertain the idea that she was super not into boys, and even now she panics if some one so much as hints about a predilection that might not be super straight, and Steve is just looking at her with earnest eyes like one cuddle with a dude while some shirtless actor on the TV beat some commies up is all it took for him to come to terms with his sexuality and how is that fair? “Do you want to tell me something?” “Yeah, but answer the question first.”

starts with an h, sounds like potential | 4,430 | formosus_iniquis / @formosusiniquis

Summary: Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes. Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication.

Welcome Home (Shed Your Skin and Expose Your Bones) | 5,019 | zade / @racetrackthehiggins

Summary: Eddie makes a bet to break into the defunct(ish) Hawkins Lab. It doesn't go according to plan.

three minute record, baby | 6,677 | alchemystique / @alchemistc

Summary: The sun, already dipping low in the sky, catches his eye in flashes as he drives past miles and miles of yellow and green, fallen leaves flying out behind the back wheels as he careens down the road at speeds he hasn’t driven since he was younger and stupider and still thought there was a chance his parents might love him. The crossbreeze flowing past him has a bite, as summer bleeds into fall and the sun falls low earlier every day – he’s glad of the sun-kissed warmth of the sweatshirt swimming around his wrists, glad of the cutting chill of the wind against his face, cold enough he can blame the streaking tears on the icy breeze. He makes it twenty minutes past the town limits before he has to pull the BMW off to the side of the road and scream.

sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy | 6,716 | MacksDramaticShenanigans / @stevethehairington

Summary: Eddie scoots down on the bed until he’s level with Steve and turns onto his side, shifting closer in the process. The movement draws Steve, and his head lolls to the side to see what Eddie is up to. It brings them nearly nose to nose, and Eddie goes a little bit cross-eyed focusing on Steve. Steve doesn’t flinch away from the closeness. Just breathes and blinks. And then his eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and right back up, so quick that Eddie’s hazy brain would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t been anticipating it. Eddie takes it as the invitation it has to be, and slowly, slowly closes the distance. His nose does bump into Steve’s as he enters his space, but he pauses, hesitates with his mouth hovering a hair’s breadth away from Steve’s. He waits for the rejection, for the brutal shove away, for the disgusted “what the fuck man?”. But they don’t come. What does come is Steve’s mouth, pushing forward to press against Eddie’s.

I Wanna Kiss You (But I Want it too Much) | 13,607 | xiaq / @xiaq

Summary: "I knew I liked girls," Robin says, "because I wanted to kiss girls.” “Yeah. But how did you know it was more than the normal amount?” “…the normal amount,” she repeats. “Well, sure.” Steve scrubs a hand through his hair. “Everyone wants to kiss everyone a little bit, right? Like. How did you know it was more than the normal heterosexual amount?” Robin cannot believe she’s going to have to say this out loud. She glances around the empty store just to make sure no one has somehow teleported in during the last two minutes. “Steve. Steven. There is no normal heterosexual amount of wanting to kiss people of the same gender.” He crosses his arms. “Well, that can’t be right.”

try to make this life my own | 13,969 | teiresias (kindlywest) / @stststevie

Summary: Steve learns that his parents have left their lives in Hawkins behind permanently when he wakes up and the bathroom lights don't turn on.

when you hold me tight | 2,050 | emchant3d / @emchant3d

Summary: Eddie didn’t get it at first. But now, months later, now that they’ve saved the world and they’ve gotten closer and they’re friends, they’re more, he’s starting to understand. The aftermath of Steve downplaying his injuries from the bats.

Wiggle and Flourish | 2,456 | AidaRonan / @aidaronan

Summary: Eddie says his bedroom is where the magic happens. Apparently he means it.

you had a pocket full of horses (trojan, some of them used) | 2,712 | fivecenturiesverse / @fivecenturiesverse

Summary: Steve propositions Eddie for sex one lazy afternoon at his house. Eddie definitely doesn't say no.

You Haven’t Even Asked But The Answer Is Yes | 2,988 | Sharpbutsoft (BuckysButt) / @sharpbutsoft

Summary: It’s Steve’s fault, he’ll maintain, for handing the phone over, too lazy to get up off the sofa and find his glasses. And how was Eddie to predict that, while searching for the email confirming their reservation in Enzo’s when they’re back in Hawkins next week, he’d find something else. But typing en into the search bar was enough to conjure, for just a second - a split second, even, but long enough for Eddie to read it - an email. A delivery confirmation email. A delivery confirmation email for an Engagement Ring.

Straight Knife Through The Heart | 4,958 | relenafanel / @relenafanel

Summary: Steve has no idea why he ever agreed to attend something called Death Fest. It has no resemblance to any sort of music and he's feeling cranky about it. Enter Eddie Munson. In Leather Pants. (and Steve is maybe embracing a more fluid sexuality)

Like Strangers Laugh And Like Subways Feel | 5,932 | beetlesandstars / @beetlesandstarss & fly_agaric

Summary: Hoisting his bat in the air, Steve unlocks the door and wrenches it open. Eddie Munson falls into him, up against his legs, half sprawled out across the step. Steve drops his bat with a clatter. Or: Eddie shows up on Steve's doorstep, hurt, panicked, and in need of a helping hand.

things i know/things i want to learn | 3,683 | formosus_iniquis / @formosusiniquis

Summary: He knows it's crazy. He knows it borders on batshit even. He knows it's weird and obsessive and, frankly, a little unhealthy. But Nancy Wheeler started it. "Jon is sweet, and he tries so I feel bad for even thinking it, but he just doesn't have as much fun when he's down there and you can tell. I mean, you know, when Steve did that thing he does with his tongue-"

My Right Hand Man | 4,085 | entanglednow / @entanglednow

Summary: In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

where it counts | 4,704 | Adure / @toburnup

Summary: They finish the movie and when Steve pulls away, it's like Eddie's been branded, Steve's palm permanently emblazoned on his skin through his jeans. He must notice Eddie's hard-on but he doesn't say anything. They talk about the movie while Eddie keeps the blanket piled in his lap and wills his dick to calm down. "Next week?" Eddie asks on his way out, voice clumsy, tripping between words. "Yeah," Steve holds the door open for him, smiles easily like Eddie's not holding his jacket in front of him. So fucking obvious. "Next week." (Steve and Eddie have a series of movie nights.)

when you find out, it's all you're gonna hear | 6,059 | QueerOnTilMorning

Summary: “Um,” says Robin. She can pack more scorn into an “um” than anyone he’s ever met. Steve looks at her with his eyebrows raised, but she just keeps scowling at him. Finally, he says, “Um, what?” “Why are you flirting with Eddie Munson?” OR: Another getting-together fic. Steve has a crush, Robin has a concern.

the space between | 6,236 | amiparanoidmuch (p1013)

Summary: It's just that Steve likes to take care of people. He likes to be needed. And God, does Eddie need him right now. So, they'd started this weird codependent sleep thing with the best of intentions. A way to find comfort, to get rest, to process what happened to them with someone who understood, who they didn't have to lie to. That's all it was meant to be.

Whole Lotta Love | 9,632 | stereobone / @stereobone

Summary: Steve scoffs. "I think if I was dating someone, Robin, I would be the first to know about it." "Would you, though?" Robin says.

The Sun Is Gone, but I Have a Light | 10,106 | ofmdLins

Summary: Eddie Munson isn't a very good vampire. He doesn't like to hunt and has never bitten a human in the couple of years since being turned. The problem is that animal blood can only sustain him for so long. Chicago, Illinois, 1993. Eddie follows the recommendation of another vampire to visit a 'donor,' a human who lets vampires feed off them for a living. What he's not expecting is for said donor to be a ghost from high school past in the shape of Steve Harrington.

you gotta get a reaction | 10,700 | jk_rockin / @jkrockin

Summary: Steve actually likes Judas Priest. The guy who sings for them has a good voice, and admitting this out loud is apparently enough for Eddie to successfully wheedle him into agreeing to drive eighty goddamn miles to Indianapolis to go see a band with him. Not that it took all that much wheedling. Turns out Steve is kind of a pushover for Eddie Munson.

Some Things Cosmic | 12,442 | stereobone / @stereobone

Summary: Steve has a dream about Eddie. And another. And another. And another...

it must be something in the water | 13,961 | rosefire / @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e

Summary: “Oh my god,” Steve said, panic threading his voice, “Oh my god oh my god —” “Hey, dude, relax, okay, we’re gonna — they’re gonna figure out we’re stuck in here and get us out. We’re gonna be fine,” Eddie said, actively tamping down the wave of frustration rising up in him. He felt his lips pull back from his teeth, a little, slamming the button for the lobby over and over, pressing the emergency call button, remembering he didn’t have his phone. He was too close to his fucking rut for this shit. “We’ve just gotta calm the fuck down —” “No,” Steve whined, “I — I can’t —” and Eddie whipped his head around, alarmed. Steve was flushed now, and the faint sheen on his face had been upgraded to actual beads of sweat, pooling at his temples. His pupils were dilated, and while Eddie stood, frozen, because he’d never in his life heard Steve sound like that, Steve shouldered off his backpack and unzipped his windbreaker with shaking hands, still gasping for air. “Hey, Steve, dude, we’re gonna be fine,” Eddie tried again, only then Steve whipped his windbreaker off his shoulders towards him and Eddie got a face full of his scent, and that wasn’t just warm rising off of him, that was heat.

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey | 13,973 | pricklywhicket / @messessentialist

Summary: The Hawkins Public Pool is open from Memorial Day to Labor Day, 8AM to 8PM, seven days a week. It employs three lifeguards, two of whom work each day: one from 8 to 2, and one from 2 to 8. Objectively, Eddie knows that it’s weird for him to know this. Why should a guy who Does Not Swim concern himself with the work roster of a public pool he Does Not Swim at? Or: Lifeguard Steve and Eddie meet up at the pool after hours.

Lover, Come Over | 14,917 | ParadimeShifts / @paradimeshifts7

Summary: “Rough day?” Eddie pries, raising an eyebrow, and Steve glances up at him with a shy smile before he returns his eyes to the ground. “Rough year,” he mutters, huffing out a weak semblance of a laugh. ----- Steve Harrington is the last person Eddie expects to see sitting on the curb when he responds to the call, but there he is, looking like absolute hell. Sometimes, love is right on time.

cybersex by Adure / @toburnup

3 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 7,382

Part 1 Summary: With a self-satisfied groan, he rolls over and taps her icon to send her the video. Steve presses send and closes his eyes, feels each muscle relax. A minute or two later, his phone chimes and he opens one eye to read the text. But—it’s not Emma. It’s Eddie who texted him and he frowns, swipes it open. Eddie: lol Steve sits up and fear sparks in his stomach. His hands are shaking as he scrolls up and— Yep, sent the video to Eddie.

rising moon by jk_rockin / @jkrockin

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 13,456

Part 1 Summary: Steve gets bitten by a strange dog one hot summer night. It takes him a month, and a little outside help, to work out what's wrong with him.

you are young and life is long (and there is time to kill today) by heartofwinterfell / @nancywheeeler

2 Part Series | Rated M | Total Words: 70,165

Part 1 Summary: Eddie Munson’s no hero. Too bad the universe—or whatever’s gonna be left of it—didn’t get the memo.

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